By definition, reality is incontrovertible. Yet there are as many realities as there are people on the planet. Yes, we may agree that we starve if we don't eat, or can travel faster if we sprint rather than amble. But beyond those truths that we hold to be self-evident, much of what we call reality can range from fuzzy around the edges to supposedly fundamental at its core. In Joseph Dougherty's riveting Chester Bailey, having its world premiere at ACT's Strand Theatre, reality is in the ring for 10 rounds, and a knockout punch never quite connects.
"If there's one thing that reality can't handle, it's competition," says a doctor who thinks it's his duty to pull a gravely injured patient from his steadfast belief that he is of sound mind and body. Each moment in the play, told through a series of short encounters between doctor and patient, provides new revelations that may be horrific or seemingly mundane. By the end of the 95-minute play, the doctor is ready to accept reality as a situationally mutable concept.
Director Ron Lagomarsino's deft production is one of growing intensities, enhanced by the actors playing the frustrated Dr. Cotton and the determinedly upbeat Chester Bailey. David Strathairn brings a quiet authority to his performance as the doctor, with a basic goodwill that can cross over into slightly cruel trickery. As Chester Bailey, Dan Clegg creates a pulsating character with moments of guilt that punctuate his general optimism.
The year is 1945, and Chester's guilt derives from a military deferment arranged by his father that has him working as a civilian at a naval shipyard. He feels a streak of yellow emblazoned across his chest, a cowardice he thinks radiates to all around him, and his non-combat injuries provide no honor. Even kind gestures can trigger self-loathing. "There is a war on, and your mom is still putting an apple in your lunchbox everyday," he testily tells the doctor.
Nina Ball's set suggests New York's old Penn Station, and Dr. Cotton tells us of the phobias evoked when he must pass through its towering industrial grandeur. But for Chester, the upper reaches of the concourse always made him feel closer to heaven. The lines between the physician and the patient can get tangled in Dougherty's scenario that eschews theatrical bells and whistles but builds to unexpected levels of insight. "He is the author of his own mercy," the doctor says of Chester toward the end of the play. In this situation, reality finally can find a soothing balm within fantasy.
Chester Bailey will run through June 12 at ACT's Strand Theater. Tickets are $25-$80. Call (415) 749-2228 or go to act-sf.org.