Tally (Jodi Balfour) and David (Babak Tafti) get to know one another in Abby Rosebrock’s Lowcountry.
Abby Rosebrock’s 2018 dark comedy, Dido of Idaho, featured an act of extreme violence carried out with a household object. Her 2019 follow-up, Blue Ridge, focused on addicts trying to form relationships in the midst of a recovery program. Her new work, a twisted tale of good will and bad romance called Lowcountry, utilizes both of these dramatic elements in its exploration of a first date warped by bouts of desperation and deception. In this Atlantic Theater Company production directed by Jo Bonney, some scenes might be over-extended, but the sexual tension simmers, then boils over.
As the night progresses, the tension mounts for David (Tafti) and Tally (Balfour). Photographs by Ahron R. Foster.
David (Babak Tafti) is a divorced dad living alone in a crummy apartment in Moncks Corner, S.C. His young son, Jacob, currently exists for him only in the photographs he has stuck to the wall and the few voice messages, from better days, that he has retained on his phone. Gaining visitation privileges means proving that he is not a threat to his child, and to do that he must stay in line with his treatment program. The opening scene, a conversation between David and a voice on the phone who we come to learn is Paul (Keith Kupferer), his sponsor, peels away the nature of David’s problem hint by hint. There is, for instance, the fact that he is not allowed in playgrounds, or near a school.
That Paul is heard but not seen puts a drag on the pacing but also allows the audience to see that David is being less than forthright with his sponsor. Claiming to be driving to a picnic to meet up with Tally (Jodi Balfour), a woman he has matched with on Tinder, he is instead cooking her dinner at home and hanging a curtain from the ceiling to hide his bed, lest his urges get the better of him. Paul, for his part, seems equal parts strict friend practicing tough love and racist authoritarian. He suggests to David that his brown skin was just light enough to keep him out of prison, “so play up the immigrant story but don’t get a tan.”
Tally arrives for their date in a short skirt and killer shoes, bathed in a weird energy that might send a more socially adept man running for the hills. But David welcomes her and, amid a sharply written volley of flirtations and awkward advances, the duo digs deep into each other’s id. David, adopted as an infant and brought to America, is a born outsider striving to fit in. Tally, the daughter of an “overly critical mother who died young,” seems rudderless and prone to dramatic proclamations like “I’m a neurotic, obsequious coward” and “Ovulating really hard right now.” More than once, she announces that she is “starving,” and it is clear that she hungers for more than just dinner. David is a slow meltdown, Tally is a wine-fueled dumpster fire.
David (Tafti), missing his son, dwells on his misfortunes.
Tally ultimately coaxes out the specifics of the incident which led to David’s arrest and mandatory sexual-addiction treatment. She observes that his crime was fairly mild by contemporary standards, no worse than “a Disney film,” and that his recovery program, called Sexaholics, is the real problem, more a cult than a cure, “telling yourself every day that you’re fucked-up and powerless.”
Tally also has something to confess. It turns out that she came into the date already knowing David’s full story. In fact, they had been in the same Methodist youth group as children, back when she was a “fat girl.” A second secret of hers that lies beneath much of her dialog, and which will ultimately explode on stage, is her seething hatred for white male authority figures.
Tafti and Balfour turn in strong performances with a chemistry that generally compensates for some rough patches in the staging, including an unbelievably long time for David to find a missing phone that he knows is in his bed covers. It is also a bit of a stretch to believe that David does not recognize Tally from the start. Her unique name alone should have been a trigger, and the idea that she is unrecognizable after some weight loss does not hold water. But how else to justify a date with a convicted predator than to already know he is capable of kindness and sympathy? That connection will eventually get the couple to the other side of the bed curtain, and when the night takes a suddenly lethal and unexpected turn, the play abruptly ends with the question of whether that bond spells their end or a new beginning.
Lowcountry runs through July 13 at the Atlantic Theater (336 W. 20th St.). Evening performances are at 7 p.m Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday and at 8 p.m. Wednesday, Friday and Saturday; matinees are at 2 p.m. Saturday, Sunday and Wednesday. For tickets and information, visit atlantictheater.org.
Playwright: Abby Rosebrock
Direction: Jo Bonney
Sets: Arnulfo Maldonado
Costumes: Sarah Laux
Lighting: Heather Gilbert
Sound: John Gromad
