Love Will Tear Us Apart

Writer-director Michael Hyman's debuting two-hander is an almost unbearably somber affair. Part tragic love story and part ghost tale, the script offers an uncompromisingly harsh look at gay relationships. Yet in a larger context, the playwright explores the walls people sometimes build to shut out meaningful human connections, and the emotional and physical tolls such isolation can take. The premiere production is superbly acted and impeccably designed (notably Kurt Boetcher's set and Matt Richter's lighting and sound). Unfortunately, the 65-minute play moves at a snail's pace, belaboring points that ultimately sound more circuitous than significant.

The thoroughly sloshed Nicky (Bradford Rosenbloom) stumbles into his New York apartment, slurping vodka and taking sleeping pills and falling into a stupor on the sofa. Yet he doesn't sleep soundly for long, as a voice begins invading his psyche, eventually fully awakening him. It takes a while for us to realize that the voice is that of Nicky's deceased lover Sean (Ben Campbell), serving as somewhat of a conscience for the lost-soul Nicky. Halfway through the play, we get to see the spirit of Sean. Nicky and Sean spend the rest of the play talking at—rather than with—each other, as spiritual beings in different dimensions. Sean pleads with Nicky to stop his nightly ritual of seeking out anonymous sexual encounters and then drowning out his loneliness in alcohol, which is beginning to ruin his liver. We hear about the problematic relationship that Nicky and Sean shared, a transcendent kiss that represented a high point in their bond, their friendship with a man who's now deceased, and the problems Nicky encountered facing his fading youth.

To Hyman's credit, a setup that could easily become ludicrous—Samuel Beckett meets Dickens' "A Christmas Carol"—maintains a credible earnestness of purpose. Yet the play's almost total absence of humor precipitates a stultifying tone. Much of the text rambles and seems redundant. At one point, Sean mentions the "zigzag" quality of his preaching and reminiscences, saying, "It's hard to tell where one is." Audiences aren't likely to disagree with that observation.


Presented by False Idols Fall and Chrisanne Eastwood at the Hudson Guild Theatre, 6539 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. Nov. 7–Dec. 13. Thu.–Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m. (323) 960-5773. www.plays411.com/theloveplay.