The Loneliest Time of the Year
Joshua Conkel possesses one of the most deliciously off-kilter imaginations currently being put to use in New York. His MilkMilkLemonade (which New York Press named the Best Off-Off-Broadway show of 2009) was a refreshing rebuttal to the usual slew of sloppy gay plays. His Lonesome Winter, co-written with Megan Hill, proves that MilkMilkLemonade wasnt a fluke.
Lonesome Winter also reveals a much bleaker worldview. How much of the show is Conkel and how much is Hill is up for debate, but the combination of the two results in some delightfully excruciating comedy. Hill stars as Winter Lipschitz, a compulsive shopper who feeds her habit by working at the Shopping at Home network and takes cat-food sandwiches to work. Friendless and alone, Winter has only her cat, Sparkles (Conkel, made up to look like a member of a Cats bus-and-truck tour), for company. But Sparkles turns out to be less a purring companion and more of a claws-out frenemy, prone to ordering Winter to look at herself with the force of Bette Davis reminding Joan Crawford that shes still in that chair in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
Things take a turn from Cathy comics to Falalala Lifetime with the miraculous appearance of life coach Debbie Metzger-Bolger (Nicole Beerman), who appears with all the fanfare of the Angel in Angels in America. Debbie, you see, isnt quite what she claims to be. But shes determined to make this the best Christmas that Winter has ever had, though turning Winter into a functional member of society requires an attempt at suicide; numerous montages and karaoke performances; and what seems like the worlds saddest Christmas party. Along the way, Winter reconnects with her older sister Avery (Kirsten Hopkins) and makes a new friend in fellow co-worker, Bobby (Nick Lewis, making hay of his stoner character).
Like MilkMilkLemonade, the script for Lonesome Winter also serves as a blender for pop culture references, from Hoarders to the hand models on home shopping networks. But unlike so many young playwrights, Conkel and Hill refuse to let their satirical targets overwhelm their vision. Exquisitely cast and cleverly directed by Meg Sturiano in a way that minimizes the pain of the numerous set changes (a stellar music selection helps; who can be bored when Last Christmas is playing?) and prevents the montage sequences from devolving into downtime, Lonesome Winter never shies away from the loneliness of the holiday season, even as we laugh at poor Winter and Sparkles.
Sturiano embraces the pain of the script; under her guidance, Hill gives a mesmerizing performance that is somehow equal parts silent pain and quivery-voiced jokes. Shes a funny-sad woman, and that dichotomy is clearly both Conkels and Hills sweet spot.
Conkel and Hill also smartly refuse to move on when things get painful. A late-in-the-show scene between Bobby and Winter goes on and on, keeping us on the hook even as we want to look away. And Sparkles never does have a redeeming change of heart, while by plays end, Winters future looks only slightly less depressing. A last-minute reprieve proves that Conkel and Hill arent engaged in a sado-masochistic relationship with their characters (and audience), but even as the Christmas spirit blooms forth on stage, the playwrights vision is still happily askance.
Plays like Lonesome Winter and playwrights like these are exactly what New York needs right now. In a week that saw closing notices posted for The Scottsboro Boys and Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, two shows that required the audience to (of all ghastly things) think, seeing a play that doesnt shy away from reveling in darkness outlined by slivers of hope is absurdly refreshing. Absurd because plays that dont coddle the audience are in short supply these days. Take my word for it that Lonesome Winter is the funniest feel-bad show of the holiday season.
Lonesome Winter, through Dec. 19, Under St. Marks, 94 St. Marks Place (betw. Ave. A & 1st Ave.), 212-868-4444; $18.