Quirky ‘Cell Phone’ scattered but charming

It’s hard to deny that in today’s society, cell phones seem to define — and, all too frequently, substitute for — our communications and connections with each other. Who are we, and what do we really know about each other, when so much of our communication comes in 160-character blips and 60-second voicemail messages?

Theatre Intime’s production of Sarah Ruhl’s “Dead Man’s Cell Phone” raises these and many other questions about the nature of relationships in an age of digital connectivity. Director Daniel Rattner ’13 offers us an unusual, endearing production that reminds us of our own isolation and hints at a means of reestablishing our sense of common humanity.

Sarah Paton ’13 (Jean) sets the tone admirably with her awkward but oh-so-relatable opening scene, played opposite a dead body — Michael Pinsky ’15. She carries us through the play’s convoluted musings on love, heaven and lobster bisque with an unassuming sweetness that slowly gives way to a passionate defense of the human amidst the digital. Her quiet sincerity meshes wonderfully with Ruhl’s strange, poetic script and helps the audience navigate this peculiar story.

The rest of the cast follows her strong lead, including particularly commendable performances by Savannah Hankinson ’13 (Mrs. Gottfried) and Michael Pinsky ’15 (Gordon). Their bouts of idiosyncratic comedy provide a welcome energy boost to punctuate Paton’s sweetness. Hankinson is especially effective as the overbearing-but-vulnerable Mrs. Gottfried. She is by turns surprising, entertaining and relatable — the quintessential crazy mother. Pinksy succeeds admirably in creating an unpleasant, but not unlikable, Gordon.

The production’s greatest difficulty is its visual presentation. The set is a sparse collection of platforms and tables that take on a variety of identities throughout the play — a bar, a cafe, a stationery store and so on. Although this changeability suits the play’s flexible conceptions of space — for example, characters can jump through windows between life and death — it makes for a confusing set. The stage is also bright white, making it distracting and somewhat difficult to look at.

Costumes and props are nondescript but functional. Notable exceptions include Hermia’s (Annika Bennet ’15) roller skating ensemble and a truly admirable paper-mache lamp shaped like a kidney. These touches are delightful complements to the play’s general quirkiness.

Theatre Intime’s “Dead Man’s Cell Phone” is not a polished play, but it feels like a personal one. It demands that we turn off whatever we’ve got in our pockets, sit down and have a conversation — in this case, with a funny, sweet, poignant play. Viewed in this light, its no-frills set and straightforward costuming seem less like deficiencies than manifestations of the play’s own human, and therefore flawed, character. “Dead Man’s Cell Phone” is a little awkward, a little surprising, a little unfamiliar — but well worth the effort it takes to navigate these idiosyncrasies.

If you come to “Dead Man’s Cell Phone” this weekend, don’t expect two hours of easily forgotten entertainment. Come ready to listen, understand and connect with this strange, lovely production.