cancer

Join Belfry for novelist’s life-changing homecoming

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By John Lyle Belden

We often find wit and wisdom in tragic moments, and in “Joined at the Head,” playwright Catherine Butterfield looked into an event in her own life for inspiration.

In the current production, presented by The Belfry Theatre at The Cat in Carmel, directed by Larry Adams, a 30-something writer’s return to her old hometown finds her connecting with an old flame, but with an interesting twist.

Maggie Mulroney (Kat Krebs) has finally written a bestseller, a novel about a father-daughter relationship she says is inspired by hers with her own father, who died from cancer years ago. Her bookstore tour brings her to Newbridge, Mass., where she grew up. While there, Jim Burroughs (Kelly Keller), her steady boyfriend in high school, calls to invite her to his house to catch up, and to meet his wife.

Curious and nervous, she goes. His wife, coincidentally named Maggy (Dana Lesh), was a cheerleader in the next-younger class and a straight-arrow personality, so not in the social circle of misbehaving Jim and Maggie. Now, she is in a loving marriage to Jim – and struggling with advanced cancer. Though an understandably awkward meeting at first (one of many humorous moments), they find they share some personality traits as well as homonym names.

As Butterfield’s proxy, Maggie also acts as narrator, frequently stepping up to the fourth wall to elaborate on the scenes. To keep her story straight, Maggy occasionally – to Maggie’s chagrin – steps up and ensures the narrative stays on track.

In various roles are the ensemble of Lexi Gray (including a charming Bed & Breakfast proprietor), Sammie Maier (including an appearance as Maggie’s mother), Sydney Heller (including a hospital nurse), Ben Lagow (including Raymond Terwilliger of PBS station WGBH’s “Best of Boston”), Ethan Pierce, and Zach Buzan.

The story goes to numerous settings, so the simple scenic design by Scott Post (decoration by Claudia Macrae) relies on the flow of the actors and lighting by Eric Matters to nimbly help us see them in whatever places our imagination fills in, aided by a clever single panel at the center of the back of the stage.

At Adams’ urging, the three leads delve into the serious complexity of their relatable characters. We’ve seen Keller in so many modes; this shows him at his most vulnerable as the devoted husband taking on Herculean tasks as best he can. Krebs’s Maggie finds herself as the novelist who apparently writes about others to avoid taking a deeper look at herself. Something about the encounter with her namesake starts her on a journey she is afraid to admit she’s taking. Lesh, who we’ve usually seen in a supporting role or in the director’s chair, really shows her command of the stage here. Given Maggy’s struggle, and the saintly good nature with which she confronts it, if this were Broadway she’d be up for a Tony.

While there is gentle dark humor to be had in this story, the plotline of advancing disease might be a challenge for some viewers, depending on one’s own experience. This is a story not only of one woman’s bravery, but of two other people engaging their own. As in other plays in this tragicomic sort of genre, cancer may take a person’s last breath, but it does not get the last word.

Performances of “Joined at the Head” are 8 p.m. Friday, 2 p.m. Saturday and Sunday (May 22-24) at The Cat, 254 Veterans Way, near the downtown Carmel Art & Design district. For info and tickets, go to thebelfrytheatre.com or thecat.biz.

‘Wit’ in Westfield: Facing a ‘very tough’ end

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By John Lyle Belden

In ‘Wit,’ the Pulitzer-winning drama by Margaret Edson, presented by Main Street Productions in Westfield, it’s not a big spoiler to say that our central character, Vivian Bearing, Ph.D, dies at the end of aggressive stage-four ovarian cancer.

Vivian (Beverly Roche) confides as much when she enters the stage as her own narrator. Feeling the play’s run-time, she condenses the necessary flashbacks and eight months of experimental chemotherapy into having less than two hours to live. In her friendly engagement with us across the fourth wall, it feels initially like a one-woman play that happens to have several supporting actors – however, we also gain a sense of their own feelings on their endless struggle against the forces of death.

Dr. Bearing is not a medical doctor, but a renowned professor of literature, weaving her career-long study of the works of 16th century English poet John Donne (sonnets include “Death be not Proud”) into the narrative of her final days, grasping for the wit she saw in his approach to life and mortality. We see a pivotal moment of her as a college student of Donne expert E.M. Ashford (Susan Hill), engaging her attention to detail that would make Vivian notorious as a teacher herself.

“You have cancer,” Harvey Kelekian, M.D., (Mark Kamish) says frankly – which she appreciates. Being advanced stage four (there is no “stage five”), he sets up what turns out to be a brutal course of chemotherapy, telling Vivian he needs her “to be very tough.” She agrees and, somehow, will see it all through, bringing us all along.

We meet medical staff with contrasting approaches to her treatment: Dr. Kelekian’s research fellow, Dr. Jason Posner (Connor Phelan), who seems more interested in the cancerous cells than the woman they inhabit, and Nurse Susie Monahan (Becca Bartley) whose humanity and empathy become increasingly valuable as they work through the coming ordeal. 

Other roles are played smartly by Eric Bowman, Leah Hoover, MaryAnne Mathews, and Teresa Otis Skelton.

The play is directed with compassionate detail by Eric Bryant and Becky Schlomann. Bryant said he had proposed directing the play to MSP, then felt grateful when circumstances allowed him to add a co-director for a woman’s perspective. Their easy cooperation is reflected throughout the ensemble, who were encouraged in preparation to reflect on their own experiences with loved ones dying and/or working through cancer.

The background work included assistance from dramaturg Brooke Conti, Ph.D., of Cleveland, for her expertise on Donne; clinical consultant Glenn Dobbs, who aside from his involvement in local theatre is a retired OB/GYN; and intimacy director Lola LaVacious, considering the very personal and invasive nature of the disease and treatment.

“People always talk to us about the production (after a performance),” Schlomann said, but with this show, they “bring up their own stories, they find a personal connection.”

As Vivian, Roche makes that sense of kinship feel natural, as both a fascinating lecturer and an engaging guide. Her disease has cracked the professor’s cynical shell, allowing us to see the soul – with its stubborn wit – within.

Hill, whose professor has a more tempered approach to the Poet, gives us a wise mentor who bookends Vivian’s journey with a touching penultimate scene. Bartley’s Susie kindly and heroically reminds us that there is more to good medicine than doctorate-level knowledge.

Phelan’s Dr. Posner seems at times aloof, practically on the neurodivergent spectrum, but maintains his own complexity with his devotion to research and fascination with the “immortal” nature of cancer cells. Perhaps there is also a discomfort with mortality that informs his clinical distance from his very mortal patient.

This play, even with its own sense of wit among the serious goings-on, can be challenging to watch – especially if you have had any experience with the events portrayed – but it is well worth the effort to experience.

Speaking of which, it won’t be easy to reach the Westfield Basile Playhouse, 220 N. Union St., due to highway construction downtown. We found our way by driving the streets that lead to Westfield High School, then turning south on Union. Consult a maps app for alternate routes.

Performances of “Wit” are Thursday through Sunday, June 5-8. Get tickets at westfieldplayhouse.org.

IndyFringe: Scars, by Sears

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This is part of IndyFringe 2022, Aug. 18-Sept. 4 (individual performance times vary) in downtown Indianapolis. Details and tickets at IndyFringe.org.

By John Lyle Belden

One of the benefits of the Fringe festival format is that it allows performers to work on new and developing material. It gets a sort of dress rehearsal before an audience who bought inexpensive tickets to be part of the process, rolling with the technical glitches and jumbled lines, seeing the genius at work behind the eventual polished product.

Lissa Sears, a standup comic who has more worldly experience than most who picked up the mic only a few years ago, is developing her one-person show, “Scars” over the course of this year’s IndyFringe. Wendy saw a lot of potential in its first-ever presentation last weekend, and what I saw last night shows something truly special and inspiring in the making, and I encourage you to be part of the process.

Being a very out-and-proud lesbian is about the most ordinary thing about Sears. The first “scar” was internal, the onset of multiple sclerosis at age 25, temporarily paralyzing one side of her body. In her discomfort, she says she had rather it be cancer, which can be cut out. “Be careful what you wish for.”

As she approaches 40, a lump in her breast has her seeking “a girly doctor” and entering chemotherapy, and eventually surgery. Still, “you gotta embrace the suck, or the suck will embrace you.”

Throughout her journey, she defies any weakness in her body by taking up boxing, martial arts and distance running, even doing the Indy Mini Marathon with a walker. A chance encounter with performer and former Colts kicker Pat McAfee has her trying out and enjoying standup. She meets other celebrities, including the late Louie Anderson.

Removal of her breasts means she can go topless (though she’d rather not show her belly). This also leads her to the “flattie” community and more opportunities to spread a message of pride and empowerment.

Her personal motto is, “Don’t tell me I can’t,” and I wouldn’t dare say that of this constantly improving showcase of her ongoing brave life. Help a feisty, funny woman as she focuses her story, Saturday afternoon, Aug. 27, and Friday night and Saturday evening, Sept. 2-3, at the Athenaeum.

IndyFringe: ‘The Pink Hulk’

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By John Lyle Belden

(Yes, I know the 2017 Fringe Festival is over, but the shows move on to points elsewhere, and sometimes return for limited engagements at the IndyFringe theatre building. And if you have been referred here by a link or blurb — welcome! — read on:)

After beating cancer, Valerie David felt heroic. When cancer returned years later, she had to be superheroic.

But she was angry at having to endure chemotherapy again, and at the changes that  treatment would make to her life and her body, especially after exposure to radioactive rays, so her comic-book persona was clear — David (not-Banner) is The (Pink) Hulk!

Being a lymphoma survivor (as Valerie was, in her first found with cancer), I was glad to see that this narrative was about more than breast cancer. However, the fact that the second time was in the breast added a new dimension to her struggle.

The disease not only threatened her life, but how she felt about herself as a woman. Could anyone truly love her or be intimate with her after the disease had taken its toll?

Valerie relates the story of her journey and eventual triumph with frankness and humor — two of the best weapons one can muster against cancer. And most inspiring, she takes on the disease on her own terms: For instance, if she must lose her hair, she sets the date for it to be shorn off and invites her friends to make it a party.

That frankness — about both the disease and the sex life it’s potentially ruining — also makes this a show for mature audiences. But for anyone teenage and up, especially those who know first- or second-hand the difficulties of dealing with cancer, this hero’s journey is equal parts inspirational and fun.

Find The Pink Hulk’s adventures here.

IndyFringe: ‘Free the TaTas’

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By Wendy Carson and John L. Belden

Even though it sometimes seems the whole world is pink, we still must understand that awareness of breast cancer — and all cancers — includes knowing that it affects real people, including those you know (or even yourself).

Set in an atypical breast survivors support group, this show touches on how various people deal with cancer in their lives. These women are trying to overcome their grief and be upbeat, but it is no easy task.

Miss Bettye (Sandy Lomax), the octogenarian leader of the group, is outright hateful, dismissive and rude to everyone, yet you sense she feels for them. While she insists on honesty in dealing with disease, she hides the fact they could soon lose their meeting place.

The members of the group range from a starry-eyed dreamer (T. Studdard), an overworked cleaner (Tamara E’lan G.), and a desperate woman just trying anything to get by (Georgeanna Anthony). The women are trying to support each other, but Bettye keeps them at each other’s throats more often than not.

Enter into this group the indomitable presence that it Bass (China Doll), so named because her fishing-obsessed husband thinks she’s his best catch of all time. Bass tries to get everyone back on track but is met with resentment and venom at every turn. Meanwhile, she masks her own pain with humor.

Can these women turn their personal drama into a loving and supportive environment?

As they open up their journals to share with each other (and us), the true beauty of this piece is revealed. Much of the play’s content is in fact based on actual people and events. Taken as a whole, this is a hot mess that transforms into a heart blessing.

At the end, there is a short talkback session for the audience and actors to discuss their own personal journeys.

Remaining performances are Saturday night and Sunday afternoon, Aug. 26-27, at the Firefighter’s Hall, corner of Mass. Ave. and St. Clair.

Festival info: www.indyfringe.org.

Fringe review: My Sister Diane

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By John Lyle Belden

In “My Sister Diane: A Story of Hope, Humor and Hospice,” Jim May warms us up with a little about his Catholic boyhood (including how “genuflecting” spelled backwards is pronounced) and his life as a professional storyteller.

Then he relates the story of an autumn 14 years ago, when, while working on a new telling of “Noah’s Ark,” he is struck by a flood of another sort, no less devastating: His sister, the sibling he had been closest to growing up, has cancer. He and other family members fly out to see her, and talk with doctors who reveal that there is little to no hope for remission or cure. Then, the tale turns to the soothing miracle of hospice, as Diane gets to fade away in comfort with the people she loved.

A story that should have left us all in weeping puddles on the floor instead becomes uplifting and inspiring in May’s masterful hands. Instead of mourning, we celebrate the passing of a beautiful soul with one who truly loved and admired her. And for those with end-of-life decisions on their minds, the narrative provides an excellent overview of hospice care.