THE ROOMMATE MOVES IN FOR AN ENJOYABLE STAY AT SLAC

SALT LAKE CITY — Seeing a show on opening night at SLAC feels like a neighborhood potluck where everyone knows everyone else. Walking into the upstairs theatre at the historic former church house one can’t help but admire the room crowned with its signature onion dome. SLAC opens its 54th season with the Utah premiere of Jen Silverman’s The Roommate, directed by Teresa Sanderson. The show is a a smart, relational dramedy about two mature women from very different backgrounds. The play begins when Sharon (Dee-Dee Darby-Duffin) invites Robyn (Annette Wright), a stranger newly transplanted from New York, to share her home in Iowa. Through the story, the two learn to share physical and emotional space and discover themselves more deeply in the process.

The set by Spencer Potter is a well-designed, functionally laid out, static space with loving details that add character and charm, such as the gorgeous blue flowered wallpaper in the kitchen. Touches like the 80s era pale turquoise corded wall phone and equally vintage blue oven and fridge make the space even more inviting. This attention to detail in the set supports the show in understated ways. The audience enters through what appears to be the back porch of the home, flanked by a greenery-ensconced wall. Upbeat music by sound designer Cynthia L. Kehr Rees plays during preshow at just the right volume.

The vintage elements of the space seem a bit incongruous with the later appearance of a smart phone that somehow magically connects to the 1980-something boombox on the kitchen counter. This juxtaposition is a bit of a stretch and leaves the setting era somewhat ambiguous. Perhaps having the music playing from Robyn’s phone sound a bit more like it is emanating from a smart phone instead may have helped with this minor detail. Nevertheless, this juxtaposition of the vintage and the modern gives the sense that the home, much like Sharon herself, has aged without ever being renovated. This seems in fact, a deliberate choice by Potter and Sanderson, and is effective. Sanderson’s direction is not heavy-handed. She handles the many one-sided phone conversations expertly, the phone placed near center stage indicating the importance of the many conversations to the progression of the plot. The staging seems to evolve organically, and the production is well paced without being rushed, taking its time in all the right places.

The costuming by Elizabeth Webb Kennington is detailed, appropriate and in many ways lovely; supporting without drawing too much attention. Sharon’s jeans, comfy bathrobe and patterned apron are as befitting her character in the beginning as the fluttering dress is to her changed character at the climax. Similarly, Robyn’s flowy over-pieces and wide-legged slacks nod to her mysterious and urban past. Quick costume changes help to easily progress the story’s timeline.

Silverman’s script is chock full of realistic, often fragmented and halting dialogue—especially on the part of Sharon. Darby-Duffin handles Sharon’s character development with clear expertise. Her character is uncomfortably and consistently equal parts energy, eagerness and awkwardness. She has excellent comic timing, in line delivery, vocalizations, and even in pauses. Darby-Duffin masterfully creates and leans into the awkward. Silverman’s script does take some leaps that are difficult to swallow with Sharon’s character arc. Without spoiling the story, Sharon’s quick leap from a cautious homemaker to someone embracing unexpected risk pushes the limits of believability, though it fits the play’s heightened tone. Yet Darby-Duffin, to her credit, fully and mostly convincingly embraces the leap. Wright’s development of Robyn is endearingly quirky, and mysteriously curt, teasing the audience with allusions to her mysterious and sordid past until finally, at Sharon’s insistence, she tells all (or at least some) of her history. Much like Sharon, I found myself drawn to Robyn’s cranky hippie likeability such that her revelations only added to her appeal.

The show is a tight 95 minutes without intermission, which feels just right. It is not for all audiences, depicting alcohol and drug use, illicit activity, and other mature themes. The production humorously embraces the repeated mantra: “there is a great liberty in being bad.” It explores complicated interpersonal relationships, and self-discovery and is full of positive and powerful feminine energy—even when the women exuding such energy are unsure of themselves. After the show, as is tradition on opening night at SLAC, Artistic Director Cynthia Flemming invited the entire production company and staff to the stage for recognition and a photo op, and I was struck by how female-heavy the production is from the tech crew to the front of house staff and I think this contributes to the overall energy of the production. This, along with the well-conveyed themes, wrapped up in honest and clever dialogue, and a healthy dose of humor, left me with much to contemplate and the satisfaction of an evening well spent.