Theater review: ‘I and You’ a Whitman primer — with waffle fries


THEATER REVIEW

“I and You”

Grade: B-

Through Feb. 21. 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays; 2:30 p.m. Saturdays-Sundays. $20-$30. Aurora Theatre, 128 E. Pike St., Lawrenceville. 678-226-6222, auroratheatre.com.

Bottom line: Uneven yet provocative.

When Anthony arrives unannounced in the bedroom of Caroline, he is met with the kind of welcome normally reserved for home invaders.

Caroline, we soon learn, suffers from a grave illness. The 17-year-old lives in a carefully constructed world with her stuffed turtle, her Chunky Monkey ice cream and her Elvis crush. So she has little patience for the African-American teenager who comes pleading for help with a homework assignment on Walt Whitman.

He’s a procrastinator. But wisely, he’s got waffle fries.

Little by little, then, the passionate shut-in and the sprightly basketball player strike up a relationship that reels with romance and mystery. By the end of Lauren Gunderson's "I and You," audience members will discover that the bond connecting these cultural opposites is deep and profound — a matter of life and death.

Part coming-of-age tale, part medical drama, part star-crossed love story, “I and You” — directed by Jaclyn Hofmann at Aurora Theatre — is about transition. A frightened, insecure young woman wrestling with fear and pain is ushered to a place of hope and recovery by a young man who is bursting with what Whitman calls “the barbaric yawp” of being.

Winner of the 2014 Harold and Mimi Steinberg/American Theatre Critics Association New Play Award and a hot commodity at regional playhouses around America, “I and You” is a sweet meditation on growth and personal discovery that will be remembered for its mind-blowing ending.

I, personally, admire the ideas of the play — which invite us to ponder the fuzzy line between dreams and reality, science and the supernatural, the earthly and the cosmic — far more than the characters and the narrative.

As the testy Caroline, Devon Hales deploys a canny arsenal of acting details. When her Caroline hears a Coltrane tune for the first time, her eyes sparkle with discovery and awakening. As Anthony, J.L. Reed brings youthful energy but often comes off as one-dimensional. His speaking style is singsongy, all caps, often italic. Too often, it feels like acting.

Gunderson, an Atlanta native who now lives in San Francisco, is an imaginative writer whose body of work is infused with history, science and strong female characters. I'm a big fan, particularly of "Silent Sky," which got a lovely production by Theatrical Outfit last year. However, "I and You," which has generated 23 professional productions around the country so far and is being hailed as Gunderson's breakout work, isn't her finest.

Often, it feels like adolescent entertainment dressed up with fancy ideas, and can be about as much fun as a homework assignment turned into an all-nighter.

That said, if you are in the mood for a sentimental tale with a shocking ending, go for it. You’ll talk about it on the way home, and you may find yourself reflecting on it a good deal longer than that.