Kindness

Kindness, written by Adam Rapp, now playing at Playwrights Horizons, is a somewhat absurdist, somewhat naturalistic mysterious murder but not murder play. In a world of sharp alienation and uncaring discord.

What saves the day? Ultimately, there is kindness, which is what this play is all about. Not some feel good kindness, but a bigger kindness, the forgiving kind. A cancer ridden mother who has no energy to try to understand her son and a scorned society girl who is going nowhere except perhaps one day to prison, surround a young man who is quite removed from and saddened by his life.

The society girl kills for cash and eggs on the son to kill his own mother.

If he were to kill her, would it be an act of kindness since he would be putting her out of her misery? Or would it be an act of kindness to not kill her, to let her live the remaining days of her disease ridden life, miserable, vulnerable, coughing up blood. You decide.

I keep seeing plays that have ambiguous endings. Must be the echo effect of a bunch of MFA teachers from ten years ago who are afraid to commit to a point of view for fear of appearing foolish, or maybe they don’t think people should know each other. A shame thing.

But this play, well, Adam Rapp has a special way of making it his, even with the ambiguity. It is not MFA progeny. It is his voice. True and despairing and very funny.

The acting in Kindness is wonderful. Across. Adam Rapp directed and it reminds me that directing one’s own material is often a perfect idea.

The play, while very funny in spots, left me somewhat cold, but then, after the final moments, left me crying my eyes out as I walked along Forty-Second Street beneath the circus lighting of all the urban redevelopment.

This mother/son play, the relationship really beating at the heart of the thing, is simply sad. And though many theatre goers I observed leaving the building had the look of smug subscribers who were thrilled they get to be audience members of such “edgy” “smart” fare, I just thought it was so Fucking sad.

Then I had Moo Shoo Pork.

But then I still thought it was so sad.

I survived the Moo Shoo.

And twenty-four hours passed and I still think it is so sad.