Don’t Wait for the Marlboro Man Is an Oddly Comforting Drama

Though it is one of the smaller professional companies in town, Upstream Theater has earned a reputation for producing intimate, well-acted dramas that are both highly entertaining and deeply thought provoking. The U.S. premiere of Don’t Wait for the Marlboro Man, written by Olivier Garofalo and translated and directed by Philip Boehm, is another captivating production from the company.

Sarah, a successful and busy professional working on an important project, is impatiently sitting in a hospital waiting area, her attention equally divided between her cell phone and the operating room nearby. Her fiancé has been in a serious motorcycle accident and his chances for survival are currently unknown. She’s been waiting for some time, yet no one has provided her with a meaningful update — not her assistant at work nor the doctors caring for her fiancé. She’s initially startled then wary when Pedro, a man of about 50 dressed in biker regalia and carrying a full but obviously used plastic grocery bag, walks in and tries to engage her in conversation. Much to her chagrin, he won’t stop talking or asking her questions she doesn’t want to answer. As the day wears on and Sarah’s hopes begin to fade, we learn much more about her and much less about the seemingly transparent Pedro.

As Sarah, Caitlin Mickey finds the perfect balance of annoyed, distracted and concerned. She’s far too busy to be spending her day waiting for news, but she’s invested too much in her job and her relationship to disregard either. Isaiah Di Lorenzo is disarmingly frank as Pedro, the physical embodiment of an aging free spirit who’s weighed all his options and found a comfortable spot to land. He seems to know too many details and be too interested in Sarah for her to trust him. Mickey walks a fine line between well-honed suspicion and the need for comfort like she’s navigating a tightrope 20 stories off the ground.

The only interruption to their discourse is the occasional distant and mnemonic-like beep of medical equipment followed immediately by the whirring of an ancient vending machine in the waiting room. Carefully choreographed slow-motion movements indicate the passing of time and Eric Conners deftly provides stage directions and commentary, setting the scene for each conversation between the pair. The overall effect is mesmerizing — surreal and somewhat hypnotic in its focus and slightly unsettling in a very satisfactory fashion.

The tension between the pair builds consistently and perceptively with each exchange. As Sarah’s personal and professional security comes increasingly into question, Pedro prods her in ways that fundamentally shake her assumptions. There’s a philosophical bent to his approach that makes Sarah visibly uncomfortable, and Mickey and Di Lorenzo skillfully parry back and forth, switching between defense and offense with surprising ease and targeted strikes. Eventually, Sarah is forced to come to terms with, or at least more closely examine, the choices she and her fiancé have made.

Don’t Wait for the Marlboro Man, astutely directed by Boehm, pays careful attention to every word, move and breath. The result is a cerebral drama that leaves plenty of room for individual reflection and interpretation. I found the production stimulating and surprisingly exhilarating and, while your mileage may vary, fans of thoughtful, provocative theater will likely enjoy the trip.

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