Half Life
House Theatre of Chicago
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Half Life has a patina of journalistic realism. Bev Spangler’s script is based on Catherine Crouch’s (unproduced) screenplay, which in turn is based on a novel by Tracy Baim, editor of Windy City Times. And as Baim tells us in three extensive program notes, her novel was based on her own reporting. (“I wrote the book as a news story, with lots of quotes,” she says.) Spangler also consulted service members. Maybe the play ends up thin onstage because it’s passed through so many filters.
Was the gas “friendly fire”? Were the soldiers guinea pigs? Are their rashes contagious? Crack Windy City Times reporter Kate tries to discover the truth. Her only resources are unfettered access to the vets and their doctor and the potentially self-incriminating leads offered to her by a deeply closeted military spokeswoman named Jen: no wonder Kate is stymied! She confesses to her editor that she “doesn’t even know where to begin” to investigate the story.
Clearly the company isn’t entirely serious. Often they seem to be lampooning their own quasianthropological endeavor. There are many ironic anachronisms, and at one point a wannabe tribal warrior breaks into a Vegas-style song and dance. But with no clear historical or mythological reference–only a meager thread of narrative and hopelessly jumbled symbolism–it’s hard to tell what they’re really up to or how seriously it should be taken. The uses the early humans find for language–naming things, exerting control over nature and each other–are obvious and repetitive. And the large cast and boisterous performances allow only the most superficial relationships to develop between characters. The result is two hours of horsing around: why would talented, intelligent people think that’s enough?
