Theater Online - New York Theater Reviews

We love in shapes, it seems.

There’s the love triangle, the sturdy building block of plays since time immemorial. The love quadrangle is less common, but its extra member expands the possibilities—how do the two people at opposite angles relate“ And then there’s the love at the center of Nicky Silver’s The Maiden’s Prayer, the sophomore effort from InProximity Theatre Company: three people all romantically entangled with a fourth. Is this a love tripod?

The object of everyone’s affection is Taylor (Josh Clayton), who, when we meet him, is the new groom of bride Cynthia (Laurie Schaefer). But we’re first introduced to the couple through the people who have known them longest. Taylor’s boyhood friend Paul (Jonathan Todd Ross) describes meeting him when he was six, and he implies (though never says) that he pretty much fell in love immediately. Meanwhile Libby (Jolie Curtsinger) details a lifetime of childhood torment at the hands of her sister, any or all of which could be paranoid delusion. She and Taylor had met in a 12-step meeting, neither one finding much success in staying sober. But somewhere along the line Taylor met Cynthia, and decided she would be his “higher power.” It worked: He broke up with Libby, married Cynthia, and has been sober ever since. Paul, in the meantime, has been filling his life with nearly anonymous sexual partners in an effort to forget the one guy he can’t have.

Which is where we begin.

Unlike InProximity’s first production, the naturalistic Orange Flower Water, The Maiden’s Prayer is more theatrical, with all the characters operating at a heightened state of wit. A fifth character is introduced, one of Paul’s one-night-stands, who with an onstage change of clothing, becomes another one-night-stand, and then a third: Andrew, who is so taken with Paul (and his apartment and cable TV) that he won’t leave when asked, or told, or… well, ever. The situation is an absurd appendix to the more dire main plotline, and often serves as a loopy counterpoint to the action, as Andrew (an ingratiatingly sweet Ari Rossen) spends most of his time talking directly to the audience about his love life.

Paul also addresses the audience, but even in his asides to us, he never expresses his love for Taylor directly. Instead, it’s clear that he’s expressing it through Libby, who will tell her sister, without shame, that she loves her husband. Ross stands out here, keeping silent as Paul’s unrequited love for Taylor hides timidly behind Libby’s fury. She’s his Greek chorus, saying what he’s unable to.

Curtsinger’s own moment of vulnerability comes as Libby explains to Paul the turn of events that led her to a surprising career choice. That choice, and the situations it leads to, bring her face to face with tenderness in unusual places. Curtsinger pulls us into these stories, carrying our sympathies with her as Libby goes about her damaged way.

Schafer and Clayton have a harder time of it. Cynthia and Taylor don’t reveal themselves as readily in Silver’s script; much of what we know about them comes from the other characters. When things take a turn for the worse between them, Schaefer manages to convey Cynthia’s pain and hurt (though we get little clue as to her motivations), but Clayton’s Taylor is still something of a cipher. His descent back into alcoholism brings us a caricature of a drunk: not unsympathetic, but too sudden and too broad to be entirely believable. It’s not helped by a ridiculous bathrobe he wears, adding a laughable element to a scene which needs to be played straight.

The Maiden’s Prayer is an involving—at times, gripping—drama. Even when it wobbles, it doesn’t fail to entertain; at times, in fact, it seems to want to keep the mood light in spite of itself. All of the characters are longing for love, but we see it much more clearly in the cases of Libby, Paul, and Andrew; Cynthia and Taylor seem viewed from a more fractured, subjective, lens, so that when they start to come into focus in the second act, we’re left wondering what’s really there.

The set, by InProximity’s resident scenic designer, James Fenton, is rich and textured—a stone patio that doubles as an apartment and a restaurant. Fenton makes the most of his space, detailing it with debris that evokes the characters’ shared past. It’s a past almost none of them can escape…even if they wanted to.