Do we go to the theater to be entertained? Or do we go to see a “famous” actor? Or do we go simply out of curiosity? The opening performance of the revival “Wit” had me asking all of those questions.
The original real-life drama was first seen off-Broadway in 1998, and for more than a decade (and for obvious reason) Broadway didn’t want to touch it. How do you begin to entertain an audience with a story that revolves around a woman dying from cancer?
Well, Manhattan Theatre Club producers took that challenge and I still don’t see anything entertaining or curious about the subject matter of sickness and death. “Wit” had to be the most depressing hour and forty minutes I have ever spent in the theater.
Cynthia Nixon’s choice of an emotionally challenging role, going as far as to shave her head, shows commitment to her trade, but I’m afraid she is so deeply woven in the infamous Miranda Hobbs that it’s difficult to disassociate her with the Sex and the City Empire.
In Margaret Edson’s story, Nixon plays Vivian Bearing, a dying 17th century poetry professor, who loved John Donne and his metaphysical poetry. She is expiring on stage with the help of a nurse, doctor and recent med school grad, all of whom produce a poor representation of the medical profession.
There are laughs sprinkled in the truly agonizing horrors of dying, and speaking as someone near old age, the whole experience seemed horrifying. The moaning and tears spread throughout the audience only leading me to believe that’s how the producers want you to think death will be.
I saw “Wit” with the marvelous Kathleen Chalfant back in 1999, and I should have done myself a favor by not seeing it again. Ms. Nixon, shaved head and all (which I found a ridiculous idea) did her best, but she may have bellowed one too many screams for my liking. She also gave us a lot of information about sickness that I’m not sure we really wanted to know about.
“Wit” was not for me and unless you’re a sadist, I would avoid it like the plague (which I sure hope I don’t have.)
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