Oliver Sacks would appreciate “A Rope in the Abyss,” written and directed by Edward Elefterion, and presented by Rabbit Hole Ensemble. Four characters, three that intersect, have experienced some kind of brain trauma: Hugh suffers a brain embolism, which robs him both of his long-term and short-term memory; Mollie is an epileptic whose brain can be re-wired, not without consequences; Lori has an aneurysm and wakes from her coma an entirely different person; Russ murders his wife yet has no memory of the deed.
The frailty of human beings is on display here, as well as the changing relationships between those who have lost their memory (or their old selves) and those who still remember. Donna (Emily Hartford) tells her husband Hugh (the excellent Danny Ashkenasi) she has been cheating; when she leaves the room, Hugh has had a brain embolism and has changed irrevocably. Neither will ever be the same again. Hugh cannot remember who Donna is from one minute to another, nor can he recall the music he used to love singing, nor their favorite song (and the sad irony of Cole Porter’s “Night and Day,” sung by Donna and later reprised, is palpable). His condition remains basically the same, with little progress, for eight years. Hartford’s reactions to her husband’s inability to connect with her, her pain and her anguish, are heart-breaking. She is in an impossible position: how can she stay with Hugh, who is no longer the man she once knew, no longer shares the same memories that she has, but how can she leave him, the man that she married, when she still has all of those memories inside of her own head“
Lori (Tatiana Gomberg) is the fit, bossy, controlling mother of Harold (Dan Ajl Kitrosser) until she collapses with an aneurysm, and undergoes a radical personality change after four months in a coma. She gets a tattoo and craves junk food; she dons a Groucho mask. Lori embraces her transformation, but not so Harold, who has a tough time adjusting (especially when his mother calls him by the less-formal “Harry.”) The coma, it seems, has set Lori free, and at the same time, stopped Harold in his tracks. Gomberg plays Lori and also Mollie, a twenty-something epileptic; she is brilliant at both. Mollie can have a brain-altering operation to stop her horrendous seizures, but when she undergoes testing, she involuntarily says, “Leave my soul alone.” Mollie is also in an impossible situation: she can continue to have seizures and be herself, or have the operation that will alter her (and her soul.) How much can Mollie lose and still be herself?
Russ (also Dan Ajl Kitrosser) has murdered his wife, yet has no memory of committing the act. Russ’s story deviates from the naturalism of the others: his scenes are in verse, with the other cast members acting as a sort of Greek chorus of his mind. This is clever, but Russ’s story, despite the fine Kitrosser, feels the least realized. There’s not enough information about him, (nor stage time) to make his ordeal compelling, and as Ross is the one character that does not intersect with the others, the play would work equally well without his segments.
Playwright and director Edward Elefterion has the gift of dialogue at his agile fingertips. He has a knack for the rhythms of everyday conversation: the mundane spats between mother and son, the late-night confessions between husband and wife, the fragile doctor-patient relationship, the dry “doctor-speak” that brings no comfort to the patients nor their loved ones. He captures the incomprehension of not only those who have literally “lost their minds,” but also those that love and care for them. Each of these compelling stories could be a play in its own; to put the four together showcases the randomness of the universe, and how anyone’s life can change in a moment. Elefterion’s “A Rope in the Abyss” beautifully illustrates the lack of control we have over what we remember and what we want to forget. That is an achievement in itself.
