Exhausting tale of infanticide allows no relief

From the first sight of director Patrick Egan's, SY '98, production of Total Abandon, a character with sluggish shoulders and glazed eyes flooding from sunken sockets, surrounded by impenetrable walls, and slumped in an uncomfortable chair, we know we are in for an exhausting experience. This play focuses on the pre- and post-trial emotions of Lenny, a man suspected of abusing his two-year-old son. His son has had severe damage inflicted on his body, and has been placed on life-support. The question of where life ends and death begins comes to the forefront as the courts debate whether to continue the support systems. Even more pressing, if Lenny's son were to be pronounced dead as a result of assault, Lenny would be charged with murder.

Lenny (Patrick Jacobi, SY '98) is an incredibly complex character. We initially see him as a victim of the state justice system. He appears to be deeply affected by his son's predicament, yet gradually Lenny's inner nature becomes clouded, and his rational self proves to be only skin-deep. We learn that he was abused by his father, and that he has recently been left by his wife. We also see that he is a compulsive liar, damaging himself with the delusion that his son is alive. Lenny's over-protective nature towards his son becomes selfish and ultimately deadly. "Loving his son to death" becomes all too real.

Lenny feels "abandoned" in a variety of ways. In brief flashback scenes, we find his father telling him that, particularly during sex, "women like to be hurt." Lenny also recounts his father's reaction to his suggestion of getting married: "Why would you want to do a thing like that?" This abusive influence has a profound effect on Lenny's dealings with women. It is later suggested that he beat his wife before she left him.

These things are revealed through the relentless purging from Lenny's lawyer Mr. Hammerstein (M.D.K. Gottlieb, TC '00), and doctors Bellmon (Aaron Cooley, SY '98) and Hirsch (Ryan Karels, BR '00). Hammerstein fluctuates in his opinions towards Lenny, while Bellmon displays more constancy is his drive to represent the medical profession, despite Lenny's emotional outbursts. Hirsch shows initial support of Lenny's explanation of the cause of his son's death: "rage-provoked, not pre-meditated." Yet we later see that this was simply a method to extract the more horrific truth from Lenny's testimony.

Gottlieb skilfully delivers the verbose phrases of Lenny's lawyer, while illuminating a progression from detached heartlessness to tender sympathy. Cooley's harsh growl is perfectly suited to focused and purposeful Bellmon, while his moments as Lenny's father convey an inherent and unadulterated nastiness. Karels develops with restraint as the duplicitous Hirsch, discreetly taking in all of Lenny's actions as supportive confidante, only to drive him to admission of the truth in an incredibly intense climax to the play.

Despite essential and energetic support from the three other characters, Total Abandon is in many ways a one-man show. Jacobi commands attention, unleashing a combination of tenderness and cruelty, both of which shock in their proximity. He is also at ease when isolated onstage. Whether thinking aloud or reminiscing on his past with his son, his monologues are timed to perfection, neither rushed nor ruined. His expression of emotion, both physical and verbal, is varied, enthralling and entirely convincing.

Brooke Hutchens's, ES '01, set is simplistic, yet effective. The stark white walls of the county courthouse holding cell create a surprisingly expansive effect in the usually claustrophobic Nick Chapel, isolating Lenny in a sea of hatred. The white lights, suggested by a single light bulb, are equally relentless in their intensity, and contrast well with the blackness of the upper level of the stage. This additional playing space is used effectively for excerpts from the court proceedings, as well as the sequences with Lenny's father. It also functions as a medium to express Lenny's deeper thoughts and conscience.

Through these moments we realize that we can never entirely trust Lenny's motives, and thus can never completely sympathize with his predicament. Total Abandon consistently catches us unawares. It pushes us towards paths we are reluctant to go down, tantalizing us with epiphany every step of the way. Yet relief never comes--we can't be released from the theater's intensely charged atmosphere. That is, at least, not until the end of the play.

Back to A&E...