Theater with a View presents Martin Zimmerman’s ‘On the Exhale’ (second review)

The sense of dread naturally permeating the play’s subject is only communicated intermittently by Elaina Di Monaco’s production for Theater with a View, an outdoor venue on a verdant patch of land in Pottstown, Pennsylvania. The idyllic setting produces a welcome sense of cognitive dissonance for a work tackling heavy issues head-on, but Di Monaco and actor Nina Covalesky struggle to keep the story from slipping into melodrama or cliché.

Tragedy strikes

Covalesky plays the sole character, an unnamed college professor who loses her only child to a senseless act of gun violence. Her namelessness lends an Everywoman quality to the story, suggesting that while the calamity she endures might not be part of your experience, someday it could be.

Prior to her own brush with catastrophe, our narrator pictured herself the likely victim of gun violence: a disgruntled student, almost certainly male, would rush her office and end her life. Her vivid descriptions of this hypothetical event represent Zimmerman’s most convincing writing, evoking real-world tragedies at Virginia Tech and the University of Arizona. As a teacher, I can say without hesitation it’s a thought every person in the profession has had at least once.

Strangely, the play grows less convincing as its storytelling becomes more concrete. After Michael, the narrator’s second-grader, dies in his classroom, moments of anguish feel painfully true — a smartphone reminder to take him to soccer practice, an unmade bed that still holds his smell. But the coping mechanisms Zimmerman assigns the woman are frequently heavy with contrivance, undercutting the naturalism of earlier scenes.

The narrator, who previously railed against concealed carry and the availability of firearms, is suddenly drawn not only to gun, but to the vicious assault rifles that claimed her boy’s life. Not only does she buy the exact model used in the shooting — from the same store where the gunman got his Glock, natch — but turns out to be a markswoman to the manner born. (The play’s title refers to the opportune moment for pulling a trigger). Formerly buttoned up and overly speculative, she comes alive through target practice, becoming one with the very item that caused her whole world to collapse.

Zimmerman strikes out

If Zimmerman has a point, it remains elusive. Does he want us to believe people who’ve gone through hell can still be drawn to destruction? That seems glib. That the exorcism of grief can take many forms, even violence? Facile at best, condescending at worst. The main problem of this middle section arises from the author’s fascination with his character as a sudden, surprised pistol-packer, while failing to explore why she would even set foot in a gun store in the first place.

The play flies further off the rails in its final act, as the narrator seduces a right-wing politician with ties to the gun lobby. Zimmerman trots out every soapy chestnut for their encounter — tight dress, hotel bar, stale banter — only to upend them with a pseudo-profound denouement. But one can easily remain ahead of the writing, which zaps any mounting tension.

In Di Monaco’s production, the playing area remains bare save for one small bench, but this simplicity is undercut by frequent extranarrative fussiness. Toby Pettit’s foreboding sound design never gives the audience a moment to breathe. Zimmerman’s play, which already toes the line of polemic, doesn’t require cues to emphasize its pivotal moments; it’s already there in the text. The constant underscoring, mixed with the ambient noise that comes with producing theater al fresco, often obscure Covalesky’s delivery.

Covalesky’s performance vacillates between extreme inwardness and overacting. At times she seems to be processing emotions that don’t communicate to an audience seated mere feet away from her. But as the play grows more strident, so does her performance, all red eyes and jittery mannerisms. Di Monaco’s direction seemingly encourages this freneticism, with Covalesky needlessly moving from one end to another when stillness would suffice.

Political theater that doesn’t feel overburdened by moralizing is exceedingly rare, regardless of the issue. Zimmerman occasionally achieves it with On the Exhale, but more often than not, he shoots blanks.

To read Mark Cofta's review, click here.