Eddie (David Zayas) and Ani (Katy Sullivan) face adversity in Cost of Living (photo © Jeremy Daniel)
COST OF LIVING
Samuel J. Friedman Theatre
261 West Forty-Seventh St. between Broadway & Eighth Ave.
Tuesday – Sunday through November 6, $74-$298
www.manhattantheatreclub.com
When I saw Manhattan Theatre Club’s production of Martyna Majok’s Cost of Living at New York City Center’s Stage I five and a half years ago, I did not anticipate that it would win the Pulitzer Prize for Drama. I also never imagined that the show, which I called “a tender, emotional play about four lonely people seeking connections,” would eventually transfer to Broadway. But Cost of Living has made a terrific transition to MTC’s Samuel J. Friedman Theatre, with all its tenderness, emotion — and sense of humor — fully intact. In fact, it is now even better.
The play is once again directed by Obie winner Jo Bonney on Wilson Chin’s set, which rotates between the homes of John (Gregg Mozgala), a Harvard grad working on his PhD at Princeton and confined to a wheelchair with cerebral palsy, and Ani (Katy Sullivan), a quadriplegic also in a wheelchair.
While John is looking for a caregiver and interviews and hires Jess (Kara Young), a Princeton grad scrambling to make a living by working multiple jobs and who assures John that despite her slight build she can handle his needs, Ani initially refuses help from her ex-husband, Eddie (David Zayas), a former truck driver with a new girlfriend.
The play opens with Eddie sitting at a bar, talking to an unseen person in what is essentially a long, compelling monologue delivered directly to the audience. “The shit that happens is not to be understood. That’s from the Bible,” he says. “That life is good for people. I was thankful for every day they ain’t invented yet the trucker-robots. That life is good. The road. Sky. The scenery. Except the loneliness. Except in the case of all the, y’know, loneliness. This was what my wife was good for. Not that this was the only thing.”
John (Gregg Mozgala) and Jess (Kara Young) come to an agreement in Cost of Living (photo © Jeremy Daniel)
The loneliness and vulnerability experienced by all four characters is palpable, expressed most effectively in scenes of back-to-back caretaking. In the first, Jess washes John in the shower, moving him out of his chair and then back into it, followed by Eddie giving Ani a bath.
Describing his sensations, John tells Jess that his body feels as if he’s constantly under attack. “That’s what it’s like. Under my skin. From underneath my skin. Like people hitting me from beneath my skin. And that’s what you’ll be working with. Every morning. Is touching, shaving, undressing, washing, and clothing — that. That’s what I’m like.”
Meanwhile, Eddie visits Ani on a day her nurse hasn’t shown up, so Eddie asks Ani to hire him instead. “What do you think’s gonna happen you come take care of me a few hours a day? Huh?” she spurts out. “You brush my teeth a couple mornings, dump my bedpan a few times, and BOOM, conscience — fuck-shit, clap yer hands when I say Boom. . . . Yer not doin’ penance on me.”
The separate storylines merge at the end in an uneasy finale that acknowledges that we all encounter tremendously painful issues in life, regardless of our physical or psychological situations, which is further established during the curtain call.
Both Mozgala (Teenage Dick, Diagnosis of a Faun), who has cerebral palsy, and Sullivan (The Long Red Road, Finish Line), who was born without lower legs, return from the original cast, and both give intense, superb performances again, neither one pulling any punches. Young (Clyde’s, Halfway Bitches Go to Heaven) displays a tenacious fragility as Jess, who might be getting in over her head, while Zayas (Dexter, Anna in the Tropics) proves once more that he is one of New York City’s finest actors, balancing toughness with a sweet gentleness that shines through. Jeff Croiter’s lighting and Rob Kaplowitz’s sound capture the pervasive loneliness playing out onstage.
“Self-pity has little currency in these characters’ worlds. Humor, however, has much,” Majok (Ironbound, Sanctuary City) explains in a script note. Her and Bonney’s (Father Comes Home from the Wars, Fucking A) approach feels honest and unambiguous, as summarized in this exchange between Jess and John:
Jess: Sorry, I never worked with the, differently-abled —
John: Don’t do that.
Jess: What?
John: Don’t call it that.
Jess: Why, I —
John: Don’t call it differently-abled.
Jess: Shit, is that not the right term?
John: It’s fucking retarded. . . .
Jess: So what do I, how do I, refer to you?
John: Are you planning on talking about me?
Jess: No.
John: Why not? I’m very interesting.
The Broadway debut of Cost of Living, which was expanded from Majok’s 2015 short play John, Who’s Here from Cambridge, is a lot more than interesting, and you’ll be sure to be talking about it long after seeing it.