Essentially, Reckless dramatizes a woman who journeys from being a magpie wife and mother to a self-referencing professional. It proceeds—as its title suggests—in a headlong (some would say hodgey-podgey) way from and to her happiness. That and some very humorous scenes make a comedy. But talented writer Craig Lucas typically makes it a dark one, with absurd activities and perhaps an irresponsible and puzzling ending. With two extensive lead roles (inexhaustible Amber McNew’s heroine Rachel and Brian Richie’s escapist Lloyd) as well as others taking on multiple differing roles, Reckless is a good vehicle for training Asolo Conservatory student actors before they join Asolo Rep next year. They come through with flying colors. Director Brendan Ragan believes the play surreally has its main characters choosing different identities to get away from themselves and that Rachel doesn’t choose but rather has her actions forced on her. This, of course, denies her the traditional heroine’s stature. Actually she does seem to make choices, even if silly or unmotivated ones, and Ragan does not appear to hold Lucas responsible for them in either her character or her actions. In the days before talk of self and shifting identities, the play’s major theme would be called appearance vs. reality. That explains why: 1) Rachel so often doesn’t recognize her peril; 2) how Pooty (super-competent Carla Corvo) keeps Lloyd as her guy by pretending to be deaf and dumb; 3) how Rachel’s office manager Roy (Jonathan Grunert, haughty) succeeds while hating the purposes of the firm he works for. JillIan Cicalese nicely plays a number of enablers and sufferers. Almost everyone masks truth with lies. The major truth teller (Creg Schiavi’s exasperated Tom) reveals he’s arranged to have Rachel killed to warn and save her. But there’s no apparent reason for his change of heart. Grunert is notably the oily star of an exaggerated, cartoonish but symbolic game show called “Wife and Mother” that satirizes the TV genre and its popularity (which seems to be accorded approval also by the present audience). Michael Judah easily becomes psychiatrists and the like who apply preconceived theories. He goes on to suggest Rachel has perhaps just been dreaming her difficulties—and that in turn suggests explanation of Lucas’s ending. (In a traditional class in writing of fiction, that would get him an F.) Like the play, the set is a mixture of abstract elements (like door frames and spotlit gameshow title) and realistic furnishings, even an impressive fully lit and ornamented Christmas tree. I have no idea why snow falls inside Rachel and Tom’s bedroom, though it’s appropriate in the outside-of-house background. Costumes are many and varied, without reference to period, which Lukas doesn’t specify. The crew handles some awkwardly fast changes pretty deftly. Since we don’t get much real knowledge about most characters in the play, I guess it says that, with the difference between appearances and realities, we may not get to really know other people. But does Lukas make that desirable? I wish his play, which gets unnecessarily repetitive as if to finally extend its one-act before its circular return to Rachel, would have given a glimpse of the characters’ society. I wonder what happened to Pooty. I’m surprised more attention wasn’t given to the violence. I think the introduction of Tom Jr. is largely gratuitous. Director Brendan Regan was obviously faced with problems not even revisions helped him solve.
