Lowcountry Off-Broadway Reviews

The play meanders with nary a sign of tension, sexual or otherwise, until the final minutes, when Rosebrock suddenly puts on the turbo — and promptly crashes into a wall. At least you leave the theater with a jolt.

But ‘Lowcountry’ springs a few too many shock, or shock-adjacent, twists to be believable, among them the revelation that Tally and David knew each other as kids (he doesn’t recognize her), and Tally has sought him out for a confusion of reasons, including vestigial gratefulness at his kindness when her mother died when she was young, and she was ‘fat.’ The violent conclusion, in particular, seems more sensationalistic than persuasive. But ‘Lowcountry’ is at least novel in departing from the toxic-male-drama playbook: Here it is Tally, much more than the registered sex offender David, whose behavior proves most destructive.

All of it is solid context for the world that these two characters occupy, but most of it is told and not felt. As their mismatched date barrels onward, David starts to worry that Tally is making a show of her own empathy by being interested in him, and you start to worry that Rosebrock, as a playwright, is doing the same. It’s not that Tally and David’s charged cross-interrogation of each other isn’t a compelling situation, but Rosebrock keeps commenting on it from the outside—especially via Tally’s monologues that eddy like Substack posts—instead of enacting it.

While everyone has a different sense of humor, I found the behavior of the damaged and deleterious characters in Lowcountry to be more dark, twisted, off-putting, and disturbing than romantic or funny, many of the plot points to strain credibility, the bombshell ending to be unexpectedly horrific, and the intended comedy to escape me, despite the indisputable talent of the cast and their ardent embodiment of the roles.

Lowcountry makes compelling points about how actions, and interactions, shape the trajectory of our lives. I’d love to see it again, in a production with a touch more sizzle.

Eventually, there are revelations. Abby Rosebrock’s new play is evidently intended to be intriguing, even seductive in the slow way it parses out the info, with a payoff of an ending that is deliberately shocking. But from the get-go “Lowcountry” was easily the most exasperating production I’ve sat through all year.

These slow-boiling dynamics build up to a raw sexual act staged, by intimacy coordinator Ann James, as coldly mechanical yet achingly balletic.