Theatre in Review: Everything is Here (59E59) In Everything is Here, the playwright Peggy Stafford books a stay in an assisted living facility, focusing on a trio of feisty friends. They are not Golden Girls, however: Bev, out of money, is moving into severely reduced circumstances. Janice is plagued by panic attacks and suffers from kleptomaniac episodes. Bonnie seems to occupy firmer ground; then again, maybe she is a little too interested in playing Blanche DuBois in theatre exercises overseen by Grant, an actor whose career is on the oblivion track. The best thing about Meghan Finn's production is the formidable trio of leading ladies: Mia Katigbak's Janice can earn a laugh with a single skeptical look at Grant's instructions during a theatre game, yet she also conveys the unnamed fear lurking inside her. Jan Leslie Harding's Bev is shaped by a deep sadness, especially when describing her impending move to a single room that she must share with her landlord's dog. Petronia Paley is an intriguing combination of hauteur and good sense as Bonnie, who, even late in life, hasn't entirely surrendered her flirtatious manner. The weakest thing is Grant, who seems to take up a disproportionate amount of stage time. This is nothing against Pete Simpson, a reliable utility player in any production. But Grant is a stock character, too easily spoofed. Among other things, he runs around in costume as Mitch in A Streetcar Named Desire, refusing to change clothes until he learns the outcome of his audition. He also greets Bev in character, complete with a honeyed Southern accent. It's all too silly. The play also opens, unprepossessingly, in darkness, with a Grant leading the ladies through an imaging exercise, which reduces at least one of the characters to sleep. I sympathized. Overall, Everything is Here is a slice of life from the Annie Baker/Anne Washburn school, in which conflict and drama are skipped over in favor of brief, elliptical, often whimsical episodes that, ideally, create an evocative group portrait. It's a tricky approach, and Stafford's writing isn't strong or suggestive enough to fully succeed. It has its moments, including Janice jousting with Grant over the correct title of Streetcar (he thinks it begins with "The"); Bonnie, a retired airline attendant, lamenting the decline of standards in her profession; and Bev, trying to put the best face on her home, praising its excellent feng shui. In keeping with its influences, the script has a faintly surreal tone -- check out the garden gnome on Richard Hoover's set, the reference to the single duck on the premises, and the weird noises heard in the finale -- that often feel at odds with the relatively naturalistic writing. In moments of distress, the characters repair to the onstage water cooler for obsessive drinking sessions that, I guess, suggest anxiety or denial. The action is also punctuated with movement sequences, choreographed by Lisa Fagan, that add little to the proceedings. In their best moments, Katigbak, Harding, and Paley evoke a late-autumn atmosphere, the sense that these ladies are doing their best to scratch out small moments of pleasure or satisfaction even as the clock keeps ticking. Adding in Grant's failing professional efforts and the private sorrows of Nikki, a pleasant young nurse radiantly played by Suzannah Millonzi, Stafford expands her portrait to take in an entire world of disappointments, missed connections, and half-remembered regrets. The script is filled with reminders of the fragility of old age; for example, there are hushed discussions about an offstage character who sustains a fall. "I think she moved up to TWO," murmurs Bonnie, indicating the floor where intensive-care cases are housed." "Well, if Charlotte's on TWO, she's probably headed for THREE," mutters Bev. This, to be sure, is the worst-case scenario for Charlotte. The key to writing this sort of play is to offer details that suggest a deeper, fuller reality; Shannon's piecework doesn't quite add up, especially since the diminishing number of characters on stage can point us toward only one finale. The production, from the Garment District-based theatre company The Tank, in association with New Georges, is thoroughly professional, however, with Hoover's set, Yang Yu's lighting, Patricia Marjorie's costumes, and Shane Rettig's sound all making fine contributions. Everything ends on an effectively melancholy note -- including a bizarre bit of staging involving Harding and a suitcase -- and I suspect many will be touched by what it has to say about lives informed by the daily dying of the light. I'll be interested to see what Stafford does next; I can't help feeling that inside her is a stronger, more original playwright still waiting to emerge. --David Barbour 
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