The phrase “the magic of theater” most likely brings to mind a musical. Grandeur, spectacle, something larger than life. Certainly that is often true, but there are some instances where “the magic of theater” refers to the exact opposite: the small vagaries of everyday life quietly rendered to the stage. These sorts of plays can make audiences feel as though they’re pressed against a living room window, peering through a gap in the drapes to eavesdrop on the characters’ lives. When it comes to Quark Theatre’s production of The Sound Inside, audiences might receive a shock. The metaphorical front door opens, and we aren’t just acknowledged — we are invited directly in.
The Sound Inside is a one-act play with a cast of only two characters. Kim Justis plays Bella Baird, a creative writing professor at Yale who has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Taylor Roberts plays Christopher Dunn, her student. Over the course of the play, the two become inadvertently close, and the line between professor and student becomes increasingly blurred.
Director Tony Isbell describes the play as an “existential mystery.” It is narrated throughout by Baird, and eventually in parts by Dunn as well. Isbell says, “The show certainly portrays the versatility of theater. It moves back and forth from direct address, where the characters talk directly to the audience, into traditional scenes between the two of them and even into meta-theatrical territory, or at least one of them acknowledges the fact that she is in a play talking to an audience. It has scenes of great pathos and emotion as well as some very funny bits, including one of the funniest monologues I’ve ever seen.”
I think I can guess which monologue Isbell is referencing, and I have to agree. Justis is superb in her delivery, so much so that my friend, local nursing student Quinlan Culver, leaned over after the monologue, gestured to her arms, and said, “I have chills.” There are ample moments that might elicit such a response from audience members, as it becomes less and less apparent just how much of what we’re watching is actually true. The concept of an unreliable narrator is familiar, but one aspect of The Sound Inside that is so fascinating is that our narrator, Bella Baird, comes across as completely, even frankly, honest. It’s Christopher Dunn who creates unsure footing for the audience. Roberts convincingly plays Dunn as a bit off somehow, in a way that’s hard to put your finger on. Dunn’s cadence of speech is strange, his mannerisms are slightly awkward, which is a stark contrast to Bella Baird’s comfortable self-assurance. The juxtaposition makes the slow crescendo of Bella’s insecurity even more compelling to watch.
This play is one that intentionally leaves many questions unanswered and up to the viewer’s interpretation. Playwright Adam Rapp seems to be drawing our attention to this by including a story within the play that ends in a similarly ambiguous way. The disparity in age between the characters leaves me wondering, “Is this simply a friendship in which age doesn’t have much importance? Is the ‘friendship’ between Dunn and Baird perpetually teetering on the edge of sexual tension?” It certainly seems the latter is true, and the actors manage to sustain that tension throughout every one of their shared scenes. The moment when Dunn begins to narrate is one that was beautifully executed by the two actors. It feels almost sweet, but at the same time, the shift in the power dynamic is almost tangible. Baird, whether she realizes it or not, has lost control, a metaphor for the entire play condensed neatly into one fleeting moment.
For Quark Theatre, Isbell says, “Our motto is ‘small plays about big ideas.’” The Sound Inside fits the bill as an intimate show that manages to explore, in its 90-minute or so run, power, feminism, truth, trust, illness, bravery, existentialism, and much more. In a simple, dressed-down black box set, Quark Theatre has managed to capture just as much allure as any big-budget musical.
Quark Theatre’s The Sound Inside runs at TheatreSouth at First Congo through March 17th.
