Theatre in Review: All the Ways to Say I Love You (MCC Theater at Lucille Lortel Theatre)

	Judith Light. Photo: Joan Marcus

It's like the title card in a boxing match -- Judith Light vs. Neil LaBute -- in which one of the most honest, probing actresses currently working in New York is pitted against a playwright known for his hopeless addiction to grandstanding, shock effects, and gotcha plot twists. Who will come out on top? In this case, the lady is the champ, but it's a technical knockout; the playwright is clearly overmatched.

This is not to suggest that Light, a pro if ever there was one, is consciously working at odds with her author, but her skills are so assured, her intelligence so blazing, that she can't help but expose the contrived nature of the script she has signed on to play. Here, she is Mrs. Johnson, a high school English and drama teacher, and in the early passages it's easy to admire how thoroughly she has nailed down the character. Dressed by Emily Rebholz in a sensible, neutral outfit, she certainly looks the part, and the way she addresses us, with a kind of half-smile and slightly elevated expression, as if checking out the lazy students in the back row, will send you right back to your high school days. Aided by some solid writing in the script's first few pages, she sketches in Mrs. Johnson's life, including the satisfaction she gets from her job and the dissatisfaction she feels in her sex life -- the only flaw, she insists, in an otherwise happy marriage.

This, however, is the umpteenth LaBute play that begins with an affable character talking about his or her seemingly ordinary life, only to reveal that said existence is a hot mess of lies, sexual acting out, or frankly criminal activity. As Mrs. Johnson is quick to let us know, the trouble started when, advising a troubled young member of the senior class named Tommy about his college options, his thigh pressed against hers -- and, before long, they were carrying on a hot and heavy affair.

As Mrs. Johnson makes brutally clear, she was enjoying true sexual satisfaction for the first time. And like many a LaBute character before her, she is highly skilled at rationalizing her unethical behavior. She even floats the idea that the fling is good for her marriage, allowing its companionate aspect to bloom without having to worry about the lack of interest in the bedroom. (She is quick to point out, more than once, that Tommy is "a second-year senior," lest we get any ideas about her committing statutory rape -- as if that fact alone absolves her.) But the playwright keeps strict accounts -- among contemporary playwrights he is the most old-fashioned of moralists, delivering plays that often feel like sermons or screeds -- and although Mrs. Johnson evades prosecution and the loss of her profession, LaBute has arranged for her to pay a steep psychological price for her good times, one that will, in all probability, haunt her to the end of her days.

I don't want to say any more, because All the Ways to Say I Love You is a brief play, running only sixty minutes, and its plot twists are its main attraction. I will say that the action has a pronounced racial angle, but it is only a gimmick; the author has nothing to say about racial politics. And his punitive streak, which has been happily absent in his most recent major works, The Money Shot and The Way We Get By, has returned with a vengeance. When it comes to his characters, LaBute is a hanging judge.

Nevertheless, I would never miss a chance to see Judith Light, and neither should you. When Mrs. Johnson describes her first real experience of orgasm, it has the force of revelation, a long-buried secret delivered in waves of fear and relief. She expertly conveys her barely held-back panic when her husband and lover accidentally meet in public. And when a terrible truth rears its head, the animal-like howl that emanates from deep inside her is almost painful to hear. Even when made to say lines like "This is what I've done...this is the cost of my lust and my treachery and my duplicity," she somehow manages to purge them of their most purple tinges. Aided by the direction of Leigh Silverman, Light delivers a performance that, against the odds, just about transcends the script's overreliance on too-easy plot reversals and heavy-handed moralizing.

Still, even she can't stop us from noticing that neither Tommy nor Eric, Mrs. Johnson's husband, is drawn in any depth; that Mrs. Johnson's summation of her marriage is alarmingly lacking in detail; that it's not at all clear how she and Tommy manage to keep their affair going without being discovered; and that her final punishment involves her nagging fear of the kind of event that usually happens only on the soaps -- and in the plays of Neil LaBute.

The rest of the production is sensibly done, including Rachel Hauck's intimate school-office set; Matt Frey's lighting, which adjusts itself subtly along with the script's mood shifts; and Bart Fasbender's sound, which includes a preshow playlist of sassy blues, including the Nina Simone hit "I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl," a choice of material that becomes clearer as the show goes on.

Still, there's no question that Judith Light is a wonder, and never more so than in those moments when words fail Mrs. Johnson and she stares into the middle distance, her face transformed into a mask of desolation, the atmosphere heavy with words unspoken. But I do hope there's a better vehicle for this superb actress, just around the corner. -- David Barbour