“Con,” a powerful, hard-hitting and at times darkly comical new drama by Jake Shore that debuted at the Brooklyn Art Haus, begins with one of the strongest scenes I’ve seen in a long time. Starting on such a high note is a blessing and a curse. Where do you go from there? But "Con," masterfully directed by Paul Smithyman, starts strong and moves forward in surprising new ways into unpredictable territory. It is in a way a play about a mother and two sons, as much as about a father, and what happens when someone refuses to accept the terrible truth of a terrible day. It is not strictly speaking a play about dealing with what happened on 9/11. Instead it is about how some people invent another reality rather than deal with the one they are dealt.
A mother and son (played by Tracey Beltrano and Miguel Betrand) at the start are struggling with how to handle the death of a husband and father in the World Trade Center’s North Tower. He worked on the 70th floor. When the Twin Towers tumbled, all (or we believe “all”) traces of him vanished. It was as if he… evaporated. Time has passed. Wounds haven’t healed. Answers haven’t come, at least as far as we know. Certainly, there is no closure, only dust and doubt a decade after the attack. Aiden, played by Bertrand, believes his father may have made it out and run off. He keeps hope alive that his father may have made a Houdini-esque escape, effectively denying or not dealing with his death. The family may have smothered his father with responsibility. 9/11 may have been the day he was reborn. That’s a hope that, just maybe, it was a new beginning and not an end. After all, we can imagine that Aiden has wanted to escape many times before. Who hasn't?
When we find the mother has been holding out regarding clues about what happened, it looks like we’ll follow this play further into the family. There will be some deep discovery, perfectly placed revelation about what happened with the father. It will all be neatly wrapped up with a bow and the characters will go through their grief and emerge somehow cleansed. We think what follows will be a play about dealing with death, mystery and the endless sense of loss that comes from lack of closure. A family is frozen in time by tragedy. Something will dislodge them from this timeless twilight. That is not what “Con” is about. Or maybe, in a way, it is.
In fact, what follows is a deep dive into the one thing more dangerous than dealing with tragedy, and that is not dealing with it. We don't delve into the past that much in detail. Instead, we see what happens when someone unable to face “facts” fastens on to conspiracy theories that replace reality. Isaac J. Conner as Uncle Bill twists his thoughts into so many shapes, and yet gets pleasure from understanding how awful the world is. A son and an uncle won’t accept their father’s death. If you don’t accept a thing, you can never come to terms with it. Then you are frozen in that moment even more than if you face the grief. Eyes closed make even someone with 20/20 vision blind. There can be no progress, no stages of grief for Aiden, if he refuses to deal with his grief.
Greek tragedy is all about catharsis. We see people facing terrible pain, in theater, as if that inoculates us from it in our lives When a show is over, there has been no real loss. The pain is gone and we enjoy its absence. We have suffered and survived, which is strangely exhilarating. In that sense, theatrical tragedy is about realizing none of this happened to us. But what happens when, rather than catharsis, we deal with tragedy by closing our eyes or opening our mind to all sorts of things that, in the end, amount to denial? Deprived of catharsis, we never truly emerge from tragedy, which compounds the initial tragedy. There is no such thing as "alternate reality." Reality is the only game in town. To refuse to play this "game" is to refuse to live. And the only thing more tragic than dying is never to have lived. Refusing reality amounts to that.
Shore’s play, with Smithyman creating visual tableaus like moving snapshots or sculptures, is expertly and emotionally acted by a top-notch cast. It is about how rather than dealing with “reality," people can invent a world where nothing is real. Nothing exists, so no-one, really, dies. But in the process they cease to exist. This is a good production of a powerful, tight play, with intense performances worth seeing and monologues worth hearing. The reality is the sudden “evaporation,” (a word used in the play) of people leaves nothing, not even a trace, to mourn. How do we come to terms with this dead end? “Con” shows how easy it is to slide from grief and victimhood into a world where anything is possible and nothing is real, as we sever our connection to reality and humanity and connect through the idea of conspiracy to a world where someone, even if they’re evil, is in charge, rather than being left alone in the gigantic cave of the cosmos.
The show begins as Tracey Beltrano gives a moving portrayal of a mother who loses her husband and then seems to be losing her son to denial. Aiden then talks with his Uncle Bill (Isaac J. Conner) who shows us a mix of kindness and menace. Uncle Bill is a partly comic character, a snake long after Eden, whose beliefs are so rooted in conspiracy theory that they can seem comical. Connor shows us a charming, confident misguided person who by evading reality evades responsibility. But Bill is dead serious. He introduces Aidan to Jeanine, played by Leyah Rose as a tough, wounded former soldier, comically blunt and dismissive. While some people are physically wounded, these people’s psyches are all wounded. Conspiracy theory creates a strange comfort, creating villains and making us couch potato heroes. The play is a battle for Aiden’s soul with the mother on one side and Bill and Jeanine on the other. There is a darkly comic edge to this drama, as Aiden moves further from reality into a fantasy world. In a universe where someone’s trying to avoid reality, everything can be evidence of something else.
“Con” shows us how a mother, having lost her husband, is now losing her son not to a cult, but to the idea of conspiracy. By titling the play “Con,” the author is pointing us to the idea that conspiracy theory itself is a con. Kennedy was not killed by a “magic” bullet, but by an ordinary bullet that hit an exceptional man. This is a play about fact and fiction, loss and grief, refusing to feel and refusing to accept. Just as “Death of a Salesman” is about the death of an American dream based on the idea that we can all accomplish whatever we want, “Con” is about the death of a different dream. When something as simple as a few terrorists and a terrible plan can do so much damage, we all become vulnerable. Conspiracy theory goes a step further and tears down other towers of American beliefs, leaving only dust. If one individual can wreak havoc, what can we do to prevent it? But if institutions are evil, well, maybe they can be defeated or reformed or rebuilt.
This production shows us scenes enacted in several no-frills spaces as actors step out of the cage of their comfort zone, move forward and stand downstage. They are not talking to the audience or breaking the fourth wall. They are staring into space, speaking intensely and intently, not seeing other people. Theater is about connection. “Con” is a powerful meditation on what happens when we lose that connection. Just as they ignored the audience, the actors’ characters often ignore reality.
In a way, Aiden loses his father a second time, and then a third, finally losing himself. And his mother loses him, possibly the true tragedy of this play after the initial tragedy has occurred. By indicating that he refuses to accept the reality his mother presents, Aiden loses his mother, himself and his father again. Bertrand shows us a thoughtful, vulnerable character. We mourn his loss when he refuses to accept reality. He is too far gone by then. We hope he will return, but when the play ends, he has disappeared into a world of fiction where truth, as Hemingway once said of war, is the first casualty.
"Con," which runs through August 11, at the Brooklyn Art Haus, 24 Marcy Ave., is a different kind of 9/11 play. Tickets are $25 at www.bkarthaus.com (https://www.stellartickets.com/o/brooklyn-art-haus--2/events/con).
a good read
A thoughtful and interesting review.