‘Wit’ at Oakland Center transcends theater, art

By MILAN PAURICH

entertainment@vindy.com

YOUNGSTOWN

“Just let it stop,” college professor Dr. Vivian Bearing implores with bone-weary resignation near the end of her battle with Stage IV metastatic ovarian cancer in Margaret Edson’s “Wit.”

“It”— Vivian’s excruciating physical pain, her dehumanization at the hands of “medical professionals” who treat her more like data than a human being, the loss of her mental faculties, etc. — is something that Edson and “Wit” understand so completely, and with such breathtaking empathy, acuity, intelligence and yes, wit, that the play itself transcends theater or even art.

No wonder Edson’s masterpiece won the 1999 Pulitzer Prize for Drama.

Designed less as a conventional work of theater than an act of spiritual witness and transcendence, “Wit” is not an easy show to watch.

It makes the sort of demands most theatergoers aren’t accustomed to — and which some surely will resist.

Edson’s grueling depiction of Vivian’s suffering is so real and jaggedly honest that it’s literally painful to watch, and there’s not even an intermission to let you catch your breath. Yet I’ve rarely seen a play that satisfies — and nourishes — on so many levels.

The Robert Joki-directed production of “Wit” that opened Friday night to a gratifyingly large and visibly moved audience at the Oakland Center for the Arts is such a miraculous achievement that you might think you’re watching a dream (or nightmare) play out in real time.

Documenting the agonizing final hours of Vivian’s life, “Wit” fractures chronology in a sophisticated, albeit seamless manner. By making the audience her confidante/ confessor, Vivian (Molly Galano) fills us in on her life up until now.

The single-minded pursuit of academic excellence and scholarly achievement has cost our protagonist dearly. Vivian’s only hospital visitor is onetime mentor/fellow John Donne enthusiast E.M. Ashford (Gerri Sullivan), the teacher who first introduced her to Donne’s brain-twisting metaphysical poetry.

The only true emotional succor she receives is courtesy of a kindly nurse (Joyce Jones, fabulous as always) since her primary physician — and former student — Jason (an excellent Shaun Lipe) has about as much warmth as a funeral shroud.

On the basis of his remarkably disciplined, supremely elegant direction, you’d swear that Joki had been helming heavy-duty dramas for 50-years-plus rather than the type of campy, crowd-pleasing mu- sical comedies (“Reefer Madness,” “Bat Boy: The Musical”) he’s known for.

This may be the first time Joki has worked without a net — i.e., sans irony — and his tightrope act is literally thrilling to watch.

Buttressed by Joki’s unfussy, streamlined set design, the cast does uniformly stellar work. Be- sides splendid contributions from Jones, Lipe and Sullivan, I also was impressed with Tom Smith, Sam Luptak, Meysha Harville, Jennifer Milligan and Joki rep players Nicole Zayas and Marisa Zamary.

As Vivian, Galano delivers the sort of wondrous, career-defining performance that every actress dreams of achieving at least once in her life.

It’s such a complete immersion into character that you can’t tell where Vivian leaves off and Galano begins. Infinitely subtle and as delicately layered as a John Donne sonnet, Galano’s unforgettable tour-de-force deserves to be studied in acting classes for generations to come.

The climactic scene performed in silhouette was a tad muffled, however. (Perhaps it was an opening-night lighting glitch, but the action didn’t register as sharply as intended.)

Also, the show could have done without its superfluous musical scoring. The play is strong — and moving — enough without any additional heart-tugging. Otherwise, this just might be the Oakland’s strongest overall production since 1995’s “Falsettos.”