Two of the play’s four actors are people with disabilities; the other two are their caretakers. But Cost of Living by Martyna Majok—whose gritty working-class play “Ironbound” was seen at the Geffen last year—is much more than just another disease-of-the-week tale of woe. Its deeper concerns, the struggle to overcome loneliness, the need to connect to another human being, provide the real drama of this young playwright’s latest work. Majok, whose Cost of Living won the 2018 Pulitzer Prize and numerous other awards, starts off her play with a brilliant, lost-soul monologue delivered by truck-driver Eddie (Felix Solis) as he sits by himself in a dreary Brooklyn bar trying, with the help of a beer, to cope with his pain. The cause of it? The wife he is separated from, Ani (Katy Sullivan), has suffered a terrible accident which severed her spinal cord and resulted in her legs being amputated. Though he didn’t cause the accident, Eddie, with his macho, blue-collar ethic, feels at fault here: a husband is supposed to protect his wife, see that no harm befalls her. >He then goes to her Jersey City pad and offers to help care for her as best he can, only to be rebuffed by this bitter, angry woman who drops as many F-bombs as he does. Eddie hangs in with her, though, partly out of love, partly out of guilt. In a parallel story we meet Jess (Xochitl Romero) and John (Tobias Forrest). This is in the latter’s apartment in Princeton where, despite his crippling case of cerebral palsy, he is a doctoral student. He’s got money and a future, despite being confined to a wheelchair. He still needs care, though, and his want-ad has been answered by Jess. Like Ani, she’s a tough little cookie who normally works as a bartender but is trying to earn a few extra bucks by going the home-help route. The somewhat snobby, arrogant John doesn’t think she’ll be able to cope, but she sets out to prove him wrong. Cost of Living alternates between scenes in which these wounded, volatile people continually challenge and confront each other. But there are tender, intimate scenes as well, particularly when Jess has to give John a shower (which she does right in front of us). Things like that comprise the reality of daily life for disabled people, but again the main thrust of the play takes John, Jess, Ani and Eddie on a journey toward connection, dignity and hope. The actors bring Majok’s play to life in fearless, bold fashion. The director, John Vreeke, and the Fountain Theater itself, are also to be commended for the way they have supported diversity in theater with this splendid production.
