Review: BURN THIS at Road Less Traveled Theater

Grief, love and personal life challenges are all examined with fascinating detail in the engrossing production of  Lanford Wilson's  play BURN THIS now on stage at Road Less Traveled Theatre.

Wilson is a Pulitzer Prize winning author whose writing is based in reality and truth, and in BURN THIS  his four characters are all dealing with the effects of the death of a loved one and how to cope with sorrow. The talented dancer Robbie and his boyfriend Dom are killed in a boating accident before the plays starts. His two roommates, Anna and Larry, have just  returned from the funeral and Anna's boyfriend Burton comes to comfort her after having been away in Canada and  unreachable. Robbie's family was mostly estranged and uninvolved, unaware of his talents and sexuality. So when his brother Pale shows up unexpectedly to claim his belongings, drama (and comedy) ensues. 

Set in 1987, during the height of the AIDS crisis and a time when homosexuality was at the forefront, Wilson skirts the more predictable issue of death from AIDS, yet still probes the topic of gay men being shunned by their families. Anna and Larry are Robbie's "chosen family," yet true outsiders at their friend's funeral. Homophobia is a  palpable  undercurrent throughout, yet the script is as much of a story of love, relationships and loneliness, as it is with grief. 

Leah Berst gives a finely shaded performance as Anna, clearly struggling with the death of her dear friend while being endlessly taunted by his  brother, Pale. Berst is petite and embodies a dancer who is at odds with her personal grief and her inherent desires. We see her fall in love with Pale, despite her own best intentions, yet she clearly believes that her relationship with Burton would be best for her. Berst brings both spunkiness and vulnerability to this pivotal role.

Nicholas Stevens is remarkable as  Pale, the manic brother who quite literally bursts onto the scene like a cyclone of energy and pressured speech. Pale is, on the surface, a neurotic maniac, but Stevens somehow transitions from hysteria to mental breakdown to lovesickness before our very eyes and the result is brilliant. Whether it be a drunken stupor, endless tirade or  a calm quite conversation while making a proper pot of tea, Stevens is beguiling.

Kevin Craig as Larry is Anna's rock, there for her in good and bad times, all the while providing wise cracking gay quips. Craig anchors the moments of  chaos as only a true friend could and has his own personal epiphany as he examines his own existence in the big picture. The moments of levity were handled deftly by Craig and though campy, were needed.

Ricky Needham turns in a fine performance as Burton, Leah's boyfriend, who is born with a silver spoon in his mouth and endless funds. His artistic journey as author to some awful sounding sci-fi movies is fascinating. Needham brings to life the jumbled life experiences that an author looks to for inspiration, balancing the comedy needed with the outrage that comes when Pale ruins a quiet New Year's Eve with Anna.

Collin Ranney designed a highly function and evocative New York City loft and Lise Harty gave us costumes befitting of the late 1980's. 

Director John Hurley seems to have a dream cast and paces the two act play with glimpses of despair that comes from  death with strokes of  broad comedy needed for Pale's entrance. Intimacy and Fight Director Shelby Converse clearly had her work cut out for her, and guided the cast through the huge gamut of emotions and physicality needed to tell this intimate story.

This ensemble works with an intensity and believability that bespeaks reality. The emotional journey is a testament to the high level of acting brought to Wilson's entrancing script. The catharsis of the "burning" moment and the story's resolution was riveting.