Show: “Time Stands Still”
Company: AstonRep Theatre Company
Venue: Raven Theatre (6157 N Clark St)
Die Roll: 10
Early in the second act of “Time Stands Still,” a journalist lashes out at theatrical attempts to capture the experience of Iraqi war refugees. He has covered atrocities and combat incursions across the globe, and he knows better than some playwright who the victims are; how dare authors try to exoticize other people’s pain for the enlightenment of an audience! Much better, it seems, to focus on crumbling romantic relationships and domestic dramas.
Or so seems to be the message of playwright Donald Marguiles, who examines violence and its effects on a couple in AstonRep’s “Time Stands Still.” Unfortunately, hanging a lampshade on topics he is unwilling or unable to handle doesn’t immediately make the bourgeois concerns of his Western characters more compelling. His askance references to the Iraq War and its cost to investigative and photojournalists actually weaken the conflict between his characters, and while director Georgette Verdin does her level best to create unspoken trauma between her actors, little can be done to connect war crimes and one individual relationship.
We meet Sarah (Sara Pavlak McGuire) and James (Robert Tobin) at a turning point in their lives. Sarah has just returned from Iraq, where she worked as a photojournalist, and where she was injured in a roadside bomb blast. Her partner James, a writer, left the country months before, but welcomes her home to heal. He is reluctant to return to the field, while Sarah plans to power through physical therapy and fly back to Iraq in a matter of months. Richard (Rob Frankel), her editor, protests this plan, just as much as Sarah protests his relationship with a much younger and seemingly callow woman, Mandy (Kirra Silver). Over the course of several months, the audience watches the characters spar over how to best provide service to the world, and the conclusions they reach have seismic repercussions for their personal relationships.
Marguiles is at his best when he allows the characters to debate the purpose of their work. Sarah’s photography can be viewed as voyeuristic or informative, based on one’s baggage about responsible reporting. James’ growing concerns about being desensitized to violence provide shading to his character; he is clearly working through his own post-traumatic stress by endlessly watching and analyzing horror films. The trouble lies in Marguiles’ inability to connect such work concerns to Sarah and James’ romance. When Sarah chastises herself for not helping a dying mother and child late in the play, she is referring to her own failures as a partner, as much as she is criticizing the passive nature of her job. But Marguiles gives her so few opportunities to suggest this, the audience ends the play feeling cheated out of a larger emotional conversation.
Verdin works hard to create a fraying tether between Pavlak McGuire and Tobin, using dimming light and turned away faces to highlight the distance between her leads. But she can only rely on hardworking actors so much, when the script doesn’t give them space to organically inject their pain into conversations that seem — on the surface — not to be about pain. Subjects change and arguments resolve without the consequences being clear to the audience, and while Pavlak McGuire and Tobin build fine individual portraits of suffering, the weight of their pain doesn’t impact one another the way it should, nor does it account for the play’s later explosive scenes.
Jeremiah Barr’s city apartment feels just full enough to suggest people living there two months out of the year. Arielle Valene’s costumes reflect a comfortable couple, and Samantha Barr’s lights zero in on faces at their most revealing. The design elements reflect a thought out and lived in world, even if the script doesn’t allow the characters space to articulate their deepest feelings.
TEN WORD SUMMARY: Spotty script keeps debate about romance and war from sticking.
RATING: d8 – “Not Bad, Not Great”