Dead Man’s Cell Phone: Bury the Lead

Sarah Ruhl is a young American playwright who’s been honored with a
MacArthur “genius” grant, profiled by the New Yorker, and
short-listed for the Pulitzer Prize. Her 2008 play Dead Man’s Cell
Phone tackles a recognizably Ruhlian theme: The Scary Implications
of Modern Life, approached this time through the titular cell phone,
found by a thirtysomething woman on the corpse of a stranger in a city
cafe. From there things get deep and loopy, as our accidental heroine
finds herself drawn further and further into the mysterious world of
the dead stranger—a world she enters through a well-intentioned
act of dishonesty and ultimately flees in moral horror. Despite the
darkness, Dead Man’s Cell Phone plays out like a fantasia, and
the play’s realistic landscape lights up with bold bits of magic (most
notably, an extended sequence in an afterlife Laundromat).

Giving Dead Man’s Cell Phone its Seattle premiere is
ArtsWest, the ambitious West Seattle company with a hit-and-miss record
of making good on its ambitions. (In other words, a typical theater
company.) Claiming directing duties is Carol Roscoe, an ArtsWest
veteran who keeps the fantasia flowing and brings to the stage two
dynamite performances. As the dead man’s mother, Julie Jamieson
executes a pitch-perfect comedic performance of epic proportions; her
imperious matron is a living, breathing icon and a perfect example of
the heightened naturalism Ruhl calls for. Also winning: Peggy Gannon,
who nails the role of the stranger’s widow with a similar stylistic
precision.

But lost out front is Emily Grogan as our would-be heroine, who
gives one of the more distracting lead performances I’ve seen. Perhaps
aiming for the heightened style so expertly executed by Jamieson and
Gannon, Grogan produces a one-note dud in a role that should be quietly
kaleidoscopic. (Off Broadway, the role was played by Mary-Louise
Parker.) Barking out her lines in a declamatory style reminiscent of
Alice addressing the Mad Hatter, or a substitute teacher addressing a
class of kindergartners, the woefully miscast and misdirected Grogan
leaves a hole in the center of the play, ultimately sinking the
production.