THEATER REVIEW: 'Dancing Lessons'

Who’s normal, anyway? Mark St. Germain’s “Dancing Lessons” considers the question in the current production at Florida Studio Theatre. The offbeat romantic comedy explores the unlikely relationship between an autistic savant and a Broadway dancer sidelined with a crippling leg injury. That may sound like an obviously didactic set-up, but an after-school special it’s not. Germain’s two-person play is an inventive mix of brilliant dialogue, vivid characters, precise observation and a wicked sense of humor.

The action unfolds in Senga Quinn’s (Vanessa Morosco) disheveled New York City apartment. Judging by the general chaos, open pill bottles and thigh-to-ankle leg brace, she doesn’t get out much. Senga’s isolation ends when Ever Montgomery (Jason Cannon) knocks on the door. He’s her neighbor from two floors up — a brilliant science professor at the high-functioning end of the autism spectrum. (That’s the syndrome formerly known as Asperger’s.) As Ever observes, “The American Psychiatric Association decided it didn’t exist anymore, so they eliminated the classification. They say it’s elitist and want to call us all autistic, but we never voted, so I still say I have Asperger’s. I’m a rebel that way.”

Ever has clearly done his homework. Lacking any gut instinct about social cues, he has to. Right now, he’s facing a mandatory awards ceremony and dreading the unavoidable dance floor. He’s heard about Senga’s accident and wants to hire her as a coach. Ever’s done his homework there, too, and knows the going rate for a Broadway dancer: $2,153 an hour. She hesitates, then finally says “yes.”

The lesson transpires for the rest of the one-act play. More than dance steps, Ever and Senga learn the truths of each other’s worlds. With his typical Spock-like approach, Ever suggests that it’d be logical for her to find emotional fulfillment in something else than dancing, because it’s unlikely she’ll ever dance again. We later see him scrolling through human facial reactions on his iPad. He’s horrified to discover that Senga’s response to his blunt comment was fear. If Ever’s tone deaf to feelings, she’s deliberately blocking them with an emotional cocoon of lies and self isolation. Ever’s blunt, Vulcan-like honesty breaks her out. Mutual feelings break out, too. Soon, they’re the oddest romantic couple in recent theatrical history.

Germain’s play implies they’ll stay together but stays iffy on whether Senga’s leg can ever heal. There’s no tidy resolution. Life, like Senga’s apartment, is sloppy. The playwright holds a mirror to that chaos. His play feels like life, not a life lesson.

Kate Alexander’s direction flows with the playwright’s realistic intention. She avoids obvious set-up/payoff comic rhythms. You feel like a voyeur, eavesdropping on real-world conversations.

The actors sell you on the gritty reality of their characters. Morosco has professional dancing experience, and you can tell. She’s got a dancer’s chops — and the alternately haughty/insecure attitude as well. Beyond that, she gets inside the skin of her character with a warm, Julia Sweeney-esque comic performance.

Cannon (who must have researched tons of YouTube videos) has a perfect command of his autistic character’s dialogue rhythms. Emotionally, Ever’s either at a dead stop or putting the pedal to the metal.
Sometimes that’s played for laughs, at other times for heartbreak — but never feels like caricature. Feeling aside, Cannon also conveys his character’s beautiful mind — compensating for his lack of emotional wiring with a scientist’s constant observation, inference and hypothesis.

Isabel and Moriah Curley-Clay anchor this reality with masterful set design. Before the Senga character ever steps on stage, her flamboyantly messy apartment speaks volumes about her character. Nicely done.
On the surface, the characters we meet are damaged goods. But that doesn’t quite say it. The line between ability and disability isn’t so clear. Senga has a career at dancing in the most competitive city in the world because she’s better at physical movement than 99.99% of the population — and not very good at anything else. Ever’s one-track mind makes him a lousy conversationalist but an excellent scientist. Who’s normal, anyway?

You may think you know. After seeing this play, the question will linger. Whatever their level of ability or disability, the people you meet won’t look the same.

IF YOU GO
“Dancing Lessons” runs through Feb. 27, at Florida Studio Theatre’s Keating Theatre, 1241 N. Palm Ave., Sarasota. Call 366-9000 or visit floridastudiotheatre.org for more information.