Theater Review—

Lombardo’s Latest, With Superior Treatment In Hartford,

A Far Cry From Previous Visits To Hollywood

By Julie Stern

HARTFORD — As a playwright, Matthew Lombardo made a name for himself with two plays about iconic American actresses. Tallulah Bankhead was the focus of Looped and Katherine Hepburn was at center of Tea At Five, which had several very successful runs locally in the past few years. But having seen those shows in no way prepares you for his harrowing new drama, High, which is currently having its world premiere at TheaterWorks Hartford.

As the program notes explain in frank terms, this work arose from Lombardo’s own degradation as a drug user, and his struggle to free himself from an addiction to crystal meth, a substance so potent that the chance of recovery is a mere six percent.

The play is not autobiographical in the sense that it in any way follows the events of his own life, but it draws on his painfully acquired knowledge of the realities of addiction, and the perpetual struggle that must be maintained. However solid a “recovery” may seem, there will always be factors lurking to trigger a relapse.

Cody Randall is a teenaged male hustler who was found comatose alongside the body of a 14-year old boy, dead from an apparent overdose. Sullen and deliberately provocative, Cody has been kept out of jail through the intervention of a priest, who pulled strings to get Cody into the Catholic rehab center that he runs. Father Michael Delpapp is convinced that the youth can be helped by his toughest drug counselor,  Sister Jamison Connelly, despite her clear reluctance to take on the case.

It is in the meaty role of Sister Jamison that film and stage star Kathleen Turner has been packing the theater and leaving audiences stunned and shaken. Not your typical nun, the surly, foul-mouthed Jamison wants no part of the scruffy young thug, and she clearly resents Father Michael’s attempts to pull rank on her.

That she proceeds in spite of her instincts is in response to the spiritual epiphany that led her to become a nun after years of hard living. Jamison herself is a recovering alcoholic, with dark secrets in her own past, which she hints at in a series of soliloquies, recalling a childhood in which she was always the bad example, the poor student, the liar, as compared to her beloved — and perfect — younger sister.

Even as Cody begins to open up to her, revealing his own history of horrific abuse from earliest childhood, Jamison’s ambivalence grows. Her own struggles give her insight into his, enabling her to see through his lies and posturing and bravado. She understands his suffering, and realizes that there are triggers, recurrent feelings of shame and guilt, that will drive him to relapse, seeking to blot out the pain by getting high.

As Cody, Evan Jonigkeit gives a bravura performance that stands up well to Turner’s.

It is only with Michael Berresse, as Father Michael, that I have some reservations, and this is not so much the fault of the actor as it is the characterization itself. Father Michael is both hip and cocky, as befits the worldly milieu in which he operates, even as he attempts to keep Sister Jamison in her place, longing for the days when nuns gave unquestioning obedience to their superiors (“We no longer rise at dawn and spend our time making cheese and bread for the priests,” she snaps).

At the same time, the plot has to burden him with private guilt and shame of his own. It hints at murky secrets and when these are finally revealed, they turn out to be somewhat metaphysical and unconvincing.

This is a play about addiction: the ways in which it ensnares its victims, the false promises it offers, of escape and release, and the cycle of self-loathing that follows. It is also a play about religious belief, and the hope of finding miraculous redemption.

In his program notes, playwright Lombardo describes the transfiguring impact of a shaft of heavenly light that gave him the strength to pick himself up off the floor and begin the long struggle to regain control of his life. In the play, however, Sister Jamison is less sure that such a merciful solution is possible.

In the end, High is a harrowing and excruciating work, powerfully written and performed. It is a chance to see a great actress, in an intimate venue, guided by a fine director in Rob Ruggiero.

This is not a show for children. No one under 16 is admitted, and no latecomers are not allowed.

If you enjoy serious, riveting theater, and are not daunted by adult themes, this is definitely a show to see… if you can still get tickets. 

(Due to its success so far, the production of High has been extended to August 22. Call 860-527-7838 or visit TheaterworksHartford.com for curtain and ticket details.)