Chris Hedges’ Death of the Liberal Class, published in 2010, was a rousing, if slightly bleak essay about the perils of capitalism, and how it was a beast allowed to run amok by both Republicans and Democrats, American society according to Hedges was divided essentially into two groups: the haves, and those the haves take advantage of and exploit. The idea of turning the book into a play beyond having someone just read from it, or use Al Gore-ian slides to explain the ideas was certainly admirable, and for that one must comment playwright Robert Lyons who undoubtedly had nothing but great intentions when he wrote a stage adaptation. But that’s where the commendations stop, for the outcome is lacking in both the entertainment and intellectual aspects.
The play imagines the life of an author like Hedges after the publication of his incendiary book, and in Lyons’ vision, he has left society for the Canadian wilderness where he has become a blasé embodiment of all middle-age heterosexual male fantasies, the kind of man who barely shows any interest in the world around him, or keeping up his appearance, but who nonetheless has intelligent, attractive women fighting to sleep with him and is envied by people outside his circle. This vision is presented onstage as Nick, played by the oft-hilarious Steven Rattazzi, who under Jerry Heymann’s direction is reduced to a vessel for facile metaphors, and who is often left to beg for the audience’s laughter. One of the many strange directorial choices in the play.
Nick’s daughter Andrea (Jeanette Diloné) however has taken her father’s ideas to heart and along with a skater-boy hacker (Justin Colón) has decided to make them come true and prevent the complete annihilation of the working class. If in writing, the plot seems thrilling and full of twists, the staging couldn’t have been less engaging if it tried. The actors each seemed to be starring in their own little play, with Diloné acting every cliché out of a teenage flick, while Olivia Horton and Melissa Murray, as Nick’s neighbor/mistress and wife, each left to play versions straight out of the cheesiest soft porn flicks. This Death truly should have remained exclusively in book form.
