Depression and suicide blast out an indelible emotional crater in the lives of those left behind; so often, the most nagging aspect of this grief is the degree to which the departed managed to hide his or her suffering. In Duke Geelan's "The Grand National," a mood of mounting despair emerges, without satisfying illumination of its precise nature.
In the first scene, attorney Sam (Joel Liestman) has just taken possession of the motorized American monster that shares its name with the play. He ebulliently talks gearhead minutiae with buddy Will (Nathan Christopher), though there's already a nervous sense that this happiness won't last long.
Director Bryan Bevell focuses on the interplay between the characters as Sam descends into depression, a wise move given the liberties Geelan subsequently takes. When the car's previous owner (Gus Lynch) arrives to check on it, a debate over its maintenance is sprinkled with incongruent dialogue about psychiatric medication. Sam is hearing things; no great surprise, since we're told that he rarely sleeps.
Liestman carves out his lead character with a cocky sense of humor, raw-nerve sensitivity, and the depressive's stubborn refusal to seek help. His once-healthy relationship with girlfriend Lucia (Emily Dooley) becomes wracked by his remoteness, and in a pair of hard-hitting scenes the two see their relationship unravel, with the revealing of an awful secret the benumbed Sam can only react to with stunted self-regard.
First-time playwright Geelan -- a Twin Cities attorney -- makes his share of missteps, primarily by busying the thing up. Overlapping dialogue between two scenes at once merely seems belabored, and the insertion of physicist Richard Feynman (Lynch) into the proceedings in a hallucinatory sequence feels mannered and forced.
Still, this production -- in the round, with minimal props and no set -- does justice to the heart of the play, which is the frustration born of compassion and love for someone whose moorings to life have come undone. Liestman's performance becomes increasingly befuddled and hollowed out, while Dooley unleashes viscerally frightening rage.
While not a rousing success, by the end of this hour our feelings have been prodded, provoked. Each suicide, in its way, is an attempt at blotting everything out, destroying the entire world. Here we are reminded of why this is such a devastating realization.
