Theater review: Annapurna

Annapurna seems to be having its moment — in an unusual coincidence, the first Philadelphia and New York productions of Sharr White’s play opened within a day of each other.

Off-Broadway, the cast of this two-hander is a highly recognizable pair of television stars, Nick Offerman and Megan Mullally. But I don’t think it’s only local boosterism talking when I say that the version seen here at Theatre Exile, under Joe Canuso’s sensitive direction and with superbly detailed design by Thom Weaver, makes as compelling a case for Annapurna as you’re likely to find. 

And the two excellent Philadelphia actors — Pearce Bunting and Catharine Slusar? Also, pretty much ideal.

In part, that’s because their lack of celebrity is an asset here. There’s nothing glamorous about Ulysses and Emma, the middle-aged couple in Annapurna who find themselves reunited in Ulysses’ squalid mobile home, hidden away in a tiny Colorado town. Once upon a time, the two were married, and they had a son, Sam. But 20 years ago, Emma suddenly and quietly took Sam and drove away, without looking back — until now. When she suddenly shows up again, it’s a complete surprise.

The reasons behind Emma’s departure and return are what Annapurna is all about. It’s a story with several twists and turns. Most of them are deliberate, and part of what keeps us hooked is the unexpected, gradually unfolding story. White has a knack for slowly revealing crucial bits of their history.

At the same time, there’s bumpiness to the play’s tone that I don’t think is intentional. My heart nearly sank in the first five minutes, when a series of short, punchy scenelets suggests an unpromisingly broad comic restyling of Sam Shepard (imagine Fool for Love as a quirky indie comedy for Jennifer Aniston and Bill Murray, and you’ll get the idea). Those first few minutes also are among the few missteps for Canuso and his actors, who are too loud (the Theatre Exile space is very intimate), and too conspicuously working for laughs.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for the play and this production to find its footing. Annapurna is no comedy — though there’s humor throughout, the underlying nature of the story is serious. Slusar and Bunting are at their best when they are also at their quietest. It’s then that you see how marvelous Slusar can be when she’s listening or simply recounting a story that seems innocuous, but clearly has a subtext. Her very ordinariness is, in the theater, something extraordinary.

Bunting has the more difficult role — one moment, he needs to be larger-than-life, the next vulnerable — and he skillfully manages the transitions. To the credit of both actors (and their director), we absolutely believe these are real people, even when White’s script occasionally strains credibility.

As you can probably tell, I’m not wholly convinced by Annapurna. White has some notable gifts for dialogue, but is less adept with structure — the play meanders, and when the climax finally arrives, it feels rushed. (I also doubt it comes as a surprise.) The title refers to part of the Himalayan mountains; that, and the character name Ulysses, implies some larger metaphoric significance that isn’t there.

What White does really well are the little interactions that are the substance of his character’s lives. Somewhere near the mid point of Annapurna, there’s a scene where Emma makes a sand-wich for Ulysses (she knows he’s no good at feeding himself). For the next few minutes, the most mundane of tasks becomes a microcosm of their complicated relationship — her conflicted feel-ings of alienation and nurturing, his battle between pride and neediness. It’s these moments — and there are a number of them — where Annapurna really shines.

God is in the details, as they say — and in the theater, the small stuff can sometimes be a really big thing.

Through May 11, Theatre Exile at Studio X, 1340 S. 13th St., 215-218-4022, theatreexile.org.