Written by Geoffrey Nauffts; directed by Scott Edmiston; scenic design, Janie E. Howland; costume design, Carlos Aguilar; lighting design, Karen Perlow; original music and sound design, Dewey Dellay; production stage manager, Amy Weissenstein
Cast in order of appearance: Holly, Deb Martin; Brandon, Kevin Kaine; Arlene, Amelia Broome; Butch, Robert Walsh; Adam, Will McGarrahan; Luke, Dan Roach
Performances: Now through October 15, SpeakEasy Stage Company, Boston Center for the Arts, 527 Tremont Street, Boston; tickets at 617-933-8600 or www.BostonTheatreScene.com
Next Fall, making its Boston area premiere at the SpeakEasy Stage Company now through October 15, is a cunningly deceptive little play that starts out as a standard issue urban sit-com but morphs seamlessly into a drama of real substance and beauty. The first full-length stage play by actor, director and screen writer Geoffrey Nauffts (perhaps best known for his work on the TV series Brothers and Sisters), Next Fall packs a powerful punch - but in ways that are both funny and unexpected.
Examining the improbable relationship between a closeted twenty-something gay Christian man (Luke) and a self-deprecating forty-year-old gay atheist (Adam), Next Fall successfully explores the divide between fundamentalism and homosexuality without ever resorting to stereotypes or, even more impressively, preaching or partisanship. Yes, there is an ostensibly thick-necked, all-American, bible-thumping father (Butch) and a brow-beaten, addle-pated, Southern belle of a mother (Arlene) who often spew unintentional racial and ethnic epithets borne more of ignorance than antipathy. There's also the no-nonsense, ever-faithful, self-described "fag hag" (Holly) who leaves no incisive quip unspoken.
But as the play progresses, these seemingly stock characters' superficial veneers slowly, imperceptibly melt away to reveal the scarred hearts and frightened souls of good people trying to do the best they can in a complicated, unpredictable world. Neither heroes nor villains, they hang onto the beliefs that make them feel safe, even if the line that defines those beliefs gets more than a little blurry at times.
Butch, Arlene, Holly, Adam, and Brandon (an enigmatic friend of Luke's whose past relationship is not quite clear at first) have assembled in a hospital waiting room following a car accident that has left Luke in a coma. The action alternates between the present and the past five years, the time span in which Adam and Luke have been together. Through clever and comical flashbacks, we watch the couple's relationship deepen and grow, but we also see the obstacles that each places in the path of true commitment. For Luke, it's his unwillingness to come out to his parents. For Adam, it's his inability to have faith that love can be real or lasting. For both it's the very human foible of failing to recognize how precious each moment is while living it. And that is the real gut-wrenching tragedy underneath the blistering comedy in Next Fall. We may not be here to make good on our promises if we keep putting things off till "next fall."
The always insightful and heartfelt direction of last year's Elliot Norton Award honoree Scott Edmiston is in full evidence here as he teases out skillfully layered performances from his entire cast. Never heavy handed, Edmiston lets the ambiguities in Nauffts' deft script hang in the air on a delicate pause or subtle introspective glance. He leaves it up to the audience to decide if his characters know more than they are telling. As in life, there is often more power in what is left unsaid than in what is spelled out in black and white.
Edmiston's cast is led by Boston stalwart Will McGarrahan as Adam, a perfect balance of bitterness and vulnerability. Seemingly always on the verge of destroying the very relationship that can finally bring meaning into his life, McGarrahan's Adam nonetheless holds on with every taut sinew in his body and every neurotic vein that pulses in his head. His scathing curmudgeon's humor dances deliciously on the tip of his tongue while his little boy's longing heart is worn palpably on his sleeve.
Dan Roach as Luke is in contrast an innocent who exudes true love and kindness. His faith in Jesus is totally believable and unwavering, even if his faith in his own goodness is a little shaky because he sees homosexuality as a sin. Swathed in a giant Christian comforter of forgiveness and denial, however, Luke's own hypocrisy escapes him, at least until his carefully constructed cognitive limbo is threatened by Adam's badgering logic or his parents' discovery of his secret.
