With a few refinements, it's Broadway-bound

Let me set the stage for this drama before I critique it.

Setting: The second-to-last night of a semester-long, graduate-level course for mental health practitioners on Clinical Work with Diverse Populations (called a "Diversity" class in shorthand). Having been forcibly evicted from their comfortable classroom, 13 students and one teacher are jammed into a room with insufficient seating. Class has been underway for more than 90 minutes when our scene (Act II) begins.

The characters: One professor (Latina); 13 graduate students ranging in age from 22 to mid 50s, two of whom are white men.

Act II, Scene One opens with three students -- two white men (approximate ages: early 30s and mid 50s), and one woman of mixed ethnicity in her mid 20s -- standing in front of the classroom, awaiting the cue to begin their presentation. A PowerPoint screen glows in anticipation.

This is where the play totally falls apart. Because like, dude, there's obviously been no dialogue written. It quickly becomes clear to the audience that the playwrights (because it takes three writers to create a performance this bad) haven't even defined a concept.

All the audience can tell is that the authors intended to talk about something to do with aging (or, in the more anachronistic spelling that keeps showing up on the PP slides, "ageing").

The cast members playing the roles of professor and students are clearly without their lines, as well.

Because WHAT THE FUCK do you say when people giving presentations start citing research from the 1950s and 1960s and make statements like this: "There's no information out there about women and aging, so most of this stuff talks about men"? (Did ya *see* the more than 3,200 hits on the PsychInfo database that turn up when you query "women" and "aging"? Wonder what woudda happened if you tossed the word "elderly" into the mix?)

And how should you respond when, in an effort to explain the cultural implications of working with the aging population here in the United States, you are informed of the practices (from 1969) of a "polygonous" tribe in Australia?

And what do you make of the assertion that higher rates of depression among old people (excuse me, the aged, which your presenter pronounces as if we're talking about aged cheese or wine, not the "AY-JID") ... what to make of their higher depression when you're informed that the reason they have it is because, "parts are falling off their body and they know they're gonna die and there's no use for them."

Oh, and by the way, depression for those reasons is "justifiable." Why is it "justifiable"? Because DOCTORS say so. And, so, consequently, treatment of that depression as a mental health experience may not be called for -- 'cause they're gonna die soon! That's why they're depressed! Duh!

He goes on to highlight his written point that "Death brings an end to one's sense of Self, economic productivity and (quite a few other aspects of living)." Realizing how absurd that sounds, he correct himself and notes that, in fact, it's "aging" that destroys your identity.

Excuse me?

So as this improvisational and failing stab at Theater of the Absurd -- because Augusto Boal's Theater of the Oppressed doesn't open until Wednesday -- stumbles on, uniterrupted by the speechless though rapidly writing professor, we are eventually treated to the *real* acting.

Act II, Scene Two begins. One man sits in a chair, another man stands and talks on a telephone made from a hand gesture that covers part of his mouth and obscures some of his words (because no one has cell phones to use as a prop, apparently). The man in the chair nags the man on the phone, demanding he turn up the volume, change the channel, hang up the phone, etc. Meanwhile, the man on the phone is calling hotlines that are only open 8-5 Monday through Friday, and well, it must not be that time.

Suddenly, he thinks to call another number. This time, a young woman answers. They engage in a conversation.

Woman: "Hello. Thank. You. For calling the. Hot. Line."

Man: "Hello. I'm. So. Happy. To. Find. One. That's. Open."

It's opening night, mind you, so it makes sense, doesn't it, that they should read us their dialogue in the most wooden form possible. It's as if we're watching the Old Al Gore having a stilted (even for Al Gore) conversation with ... the Old Al Gore on quaaludes.

When the *real* acting part of this theatrical freak show mercifully concludes about five minutes later, the fresh-faced young woman gets up and starts telling us about how to treat the elderly. She has posted some "brochures" on the wall behind her. They are pieces of paper approximately 20x24 inches, which she tells us are "much larger than *real* pieces of paper."

On the supposedly fake pieces of paper, there are a LOT of words. The tiny words are written with colorful markers. (And UCM is thinking, Even if you don't shrink that to the size of *real* paper, the old people are going to have trouble reading it.)

For the next 10 or 15 minutes, the young woman takes us on a point-by-point tour of what these "brochures" say. They are tips for us to consider in dealing with the elderly and their caregivers. Among other things, we are instructed on "how to talk to old people," which makes rather prominent the suggestion that we LIE to them about buying too many lightbulbs by accident and thinking maybe the Gomer would like us to switch out their dim bulbs with our brighter ones.

She informs us that "people can even start nearing the end of life in their 50s." This is amazing! Turns out what we thought could happen at *any time* really doesn't pose a threat until we're at least in our 50s. All those people who are dying at younger ages are clearly mistaken.

She also trots out one of those plastic daily pill organizers and shows it to us. Props! I love 'em. (Later, S2 wondered why our young presenter didn't also bring bed pans or adult diapers -- to show options, natch.)

Just as we think the curtain is falling on this hour-long performance, the professor asks, "Have you thought of any ways you might address the systemic issues that underlie some of the experience of depression among the elderly?"

The three actors stand, mute, clearly unable to comprehend the question. One of the class cast tries to reframe it, but it is apparent that her mind has turned mushy during the performance (though this critic may be giving her credit where none is due). UCM cuts to the chase, "Have you found any ways to stop old people from feeling worthless?"

One replies, "That is a problem of living in a capitalistic, individualistic, selfish society."

The professor asks *how* they might affect some change there. And the white man in his 50s responds, "I don't see how you can. When you retire, particularly if you are a man, you lose your identity, because your job *is* your identity. So when you take that away from a man, what do you have?"

UCM is sitting there, mind and body aching from having been tortured in this manner, and she is no longer biting her tongue. She says, Well, obviously you have *nothing.*

And she meant that on every level one can possibly conceive.

The writer regrets to announce that this was a one-night-only performance and that this critique is designed more for public humiliation than for constructive feedback. The writer regrets that there was so *little* to seize upon for constructive feedback. The writer further regrets having witnessed this performance. The writer is appalled (with SIX 'p's) to note that this performance was written, directed and acted by an alleged "peer group." The writer denies having anything whatsoever to do with these people or their performance. The opinions about old people expressed herein -- although, yes, they *are* kinda grumpy and some of them do smell funny -- are not shared by the producer of this blog. The writer would like to her money back. All $1,830 of it would be ideal. But even a refund of $50.83 to represent the hour for which she was exposed to this mockery of education would be appreciated.