Theater Review - Body & soul
Echoes of Another Man ponders the source of one’s individuality
Playwright Mia McCullough avoids pairing the words “brain” and “transplant” in Echoes of Another Man, having its world premiere at Actor’s Express. Perhaps she knows that if Echoes stated the phrase “brain transplant” too overtly — if the audience dwelt too long on the notion of having one guy’s gray matter relocated into somebody else’s noggin — the play’s premise would be too ridiculous for words. Such a surgical procedure may be medically possible sooner than we think, but for now it’s a far-fetched dramatic device.
Nevertheless, Echoes examines the implications of brain switching and body donation head-on (pardon the pun). Falling somewhere between sci-fi and soap opera, Echoes of Another Man teeters on the verge of outright absurdity, but Actor’s Express stages such a straight-faced, sensitive production that we nearly buy into its mind games.
Daniel May plays a young man identified in the program as “The Patient” — because what to call him turns out to be a sticking point. At first, he’s a comatose professional golfer in his early 30s named Steve, lying in a hospital bed while his wife, Katie (Kate Donadio), struggles to remove his wedding ring. His body is a perfect match to the brain of a dying, middle-aged painter/pianist named Claude, and the play hinges on the notion of who the Patient really is once Claude’s brain is transplanted into Steve’s body.
When brilliant but daunted Dr. Park (Addae Moon) and his no-nonsense nurse, Iris (Tracey Copeland), prepare for the historic operation, their references to protesters outside the hospital and the impending media blitz give Echoes some real-world plausibility.
As Claude’s brain gradually awakens in Steve’s body, May enthusiastically enacts the Patient’s often wordless discoveries. When Iris first speaks to him, May listens with that seemingly thoughtful expression you see on infants, who could be completely oblivious, or hanging on every word. Dr. Park tests the Patient’s memory with objects from Claude’s life, and May gives especially vivid reactions to smells like fresh paint. When the Patient first sees himself in the mirror, May responds as if he’s looking at a stranger through a window.
Claude used to be a mercurial artist and diabetic with self-destructive tendencies, but May never attempts to play Claude’s “chronological” age or physical impairments. That may not be a flaw, as Echoes argues for the importance of physiological traits in shaping our identities, beginning with subtle, logical observations. In Steve’s body, Claude no longer suffers from his old allergies, but neither can he comfortably play piano with the golfer’s callused fingers.
Echoes builds on such notions as “muscle memory” to make the playwright’s bigger leaps more convincing. Just as his tastes in foods change, so does Claude no longer find a physical connection to Raina (Shannon Eubanks), his art manager and long-suffering lover. But he immediately feels a connection to Katie, even before he finds out that she’s Steve’s widow. It’s as if his flesh recognizes her flesh, or that she’s innately familiar to his senses, even though she’s a stranger to Claude’s mind.
McCullough builds a surprisingly persuasive case that the seat of the soul lies not in the brain. Our humanity belongs not just in our cerebral memory bank, but in the lifelong interaction of mind and body, which forms an identity as if by alchemy.
Like May, Donadio gives a controlled but highly demonstrative performance. When she first visits the post-op Patient in his hospital room, she can’t take her eyes off him, and we see rival emotions compete across her face. Eubanks (Donadio’s mother) evokes Raina’s complex shadings, having both the martyr complex of a disrespected lover and the mercenary nature of an art agent. She knows exactly how valuable Claude’s work has become now that he’s a world-famous medical subject.
In the second act, Echoes takes some turns that you hope will make the play rise above melodrama. At one point, the set peels back to reveal the Patient standing before Claude’s massive, swirling mural, designed so his smaller paintings can fit in it like a puzzle. We get it: He’s piecing together his memories. Katie and Raina, who become de facto romantic rivals, have a quietly effective scene when they compare their respective careers as an artist’s manager and golf caddie, each subsuming part of their identity in the service of their man.
But Echoes takes too many manipulative turns, building to a tear-jerking finale. A motif of suppressed childhood abuse provides a perfunctory explanation of Claude’s difficult personality. Echoes ultimately feels too much like a movie — the kind of self-important “issues” film released in winter for Academy Award consideration. It belongs more in the touchy-feely class of Regarding Henry than with provocative mediations like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
Echoes’ Hollywood qualities make it a strange fit at Actor’s Express, which normally specializes in more complex work. The theater finds many engrossingly “tactile” moments in the show, such as showing Claude expertly swing a golf club, even though he’s never held one before. By giving an engaging production despite Echoes’ flaws, Actor’s Express turns the adage on its head: The spirit is weak, but the flesh is willing.