SHAY
In Shay, the main disease is agoraphobia–a fear of public places–but there’s also a subplot involving anorexia nervosa. The agoraphobic is Shay, a housewife who is so afraid of contact with people that she never leaves the house. Her husband brings home the groceries as well as a paycheck, so she has no need to go outside. And she never lets anyone else in except her two grown children and her sister Marce, who lives next door. If the phone rings, Shay ignores it unless two rings are followed by a pause and then a third ring–a code known to family members only. She never answers the door either. She conducts her business with the paperboy and others by means of notes left in the milk box.
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Perhaps a strong cast could wring a few laughs, and maybe even some drama, out of this shallow, sophomoric script. But the actors assembled by the Footsteps Theatre Company are so painfully ill at ease onstage that there’s hardly a believable moment in the show. As Shay, Carol Whelan delivers her lines in such a halting fashion that she never establishes the vibrant, witty personality her character supposedly possesses. Vita Dennis has a similar problem as Shay’s sister, Marce–her delivery is so tentative that her character remains inscrutable. Paul Scheier, as Shay’s son, Reg, has a flat, monotonous delivery that undercuts his effort to make Reg seem wry and flippant. Shay’s husband, Ed, is underdeveloped by the playwright, but Terry Muller doesn’t add much to the role. Only Marge Royce, as Fran, displays any grasp of the character she portrays. Her performance actually adds an occasional spark to the proceedings.
