From Orange County Register - 10/11/07

In 'The Quality of Life,' the personal trumps the political
Review: Jane Anderson's new play fails as ideological debate but soars as a clear-eyed examination of loss.
by Paul Hodgins

Jane Anderson's new play, "The Quality of Life," is as lumpy and scarred as its scorched-earth setting.

As a balanced examination of the polarized state of America's political climate, Anderson's script – the Geffen Playhouse's first commission – fails miserably. Despite the playwright's claims of fairness, there's no doubt where her allegiances lie. On the ideological scoreboard, dour Ohio fundamentalists Bill and Dinah never stand a chance against Dinah's crunchy-granola cousin, Jeannette, and her equally New Age husband, a professor named Neil. It's a Blue State rout from the first line to the last.

But as a journey through the jagged geography of loss and sorrow, "The Quality of Life" is considerably more successful. A sea of sniffles punctuated the hearty applause at Wednesday's world-premiere performance – testament to Anderson's clear-eyed and honest appraisal of the choices we face when death takes the person we love more than any other.

As the story begins, Bill and Dinah (Scott Bakula and JoBeth Williams) are struggling to scale a mountain of grief. Their only child has been murdered (although we're given only sketchy details, it appears she perished in the 9/11 attacks or some similar terrorist atrocity). The loss has severely tested the couple's bonds of faith and shaken the foundations of their marriage.

Dinah has just learned that Jeannette (Laurie Metcalf), her Northern California cousin, is suffering through travails of her own. Her husband Neil (Dennis Boutsikaris) is dying of cancer, and they recently lost their hillside home to a wildfire. Dinah wants to visit them; Bill doesn't. "It doesn't compare to what we're going through," he mutters. (Bill is a master of such warm pronouncements.)

But Dinah prevails. When she and Bill arrive at Neil and Jeannette's abode, it's a jumble of wreckage and Age of Aquarius philosophy. Instead of rebuilding, the couple has chosen to live in a yurt, or Mongolian tent, and use the detritus of their burned home to create an impromptu art gallery. Melted aluminum window frames, a scorched camera and a stained-glass window composed of melded wine bottles adorn their denuded hilltop (François-Pierre Couture's set nicely captures the mayhem without being too fussy or cluttered).

Neil and Jeannette seem happy enough with their improvised quarters. Their only worry is the disappearance of their beloved cat. "You can always get another cat," declares Bill, in a typical display of Midwestern pragmatism bumping clumsily against more delicate West Coast sensibilities.

Dinah is more forgiving of Neil and Jeannette's situation and tolerant of their philosophy. When Neil decides to use marijuana to ease the pain of his advanced cancer, Bill waits in the car for the morally offensive moment to pass; Dinah is eventually persuaded to partake.

Anderson spends a lot of time exploring the Red State/Blue State divide, but it's a false alley filled with familiar arguments, and she continually loads the dice in favor of the graying hippies. But "The Quality of Life" finds its voice in the play's later scenes. The rounds of polemical vitriol and ideological one-upmanship mercifully fade and Neil and Jeannette must finally face the awful reality of his demise – and its consequences for her. It's possible that Anderson has two plays on her hands here, one vastly more touching and worthwhile than the other.

The actors' success with their roles is directly proportional to Anderson's success in fleshing out each character.

Neil has an endlessly inquisitive mind and a scholar's curiosity about the unknown. In a late scene, Neil delivers his final lecture. It's a fascinating examination of a South Sea tribe that tries desperately to fend off total obliteration, and in it we're given the core of his life philosophy: the struggle against the abyss makes us human and life worth living. It's not a particularly new thought, but Anderson makes the case creatively, and Boutsikaris finds the right blend of humility, laser-sharp intellect and perpetual doubt (the scholar's most valuable tool).

Neil's scenes of intimacy with Jeannette are the play's emotional core, and Boutsikaris couldn't find a better partner for such demanding passages than Laurie Metcalf. Jeannette is a character that Metcalf doesn't fully possess until these moments of naked truth, but when Jeannette's grief finally reveals itself, the actress suddenly holds your heart in her hand.

Bill and Dinah are more problematic and sketchily drawn characters, presenting Bakula and Williams with challenges that would defeat the most game and able actors. Bakula's Bill never rises above stoic cornbelt caricature. Despite Anderson's attempts to bring out Bill's deeply buried demons, in Bakula's hands he remains a bundle of tics, stoniness and Old Testament aphorisms. Williams is more successful with Dinah, whose grief and open heart make her swayable and empathetic. We end up pulling for her and wanting her to find a way out of the thicket of sorrow, fear and fundamentalism that traps her.

Anderson directed this world premiere. Perhaps she needs to take a step back from future productions and ask herself hard questions about these characters – especially Bill and Dinah. If she really wants to present a balanced political dialectic, then the Red Team needs help. And "The Quality of Life" needs a more deserving body for its poignant heart: the unflinching examination of sorrow.

Copyright 2007 The Orange County Register