Infinite Life: the pain, and joy, of being alive
11 Aug 2024 - Photos by Elana Emer

A row of blue poolside lounge chairs are lined up abutting a well-worn beige stucco wall. The lights create a bright sunlit effect. Five women come and go, talking vaguely about their treatments, comparing their illnesses, and engaging in idle pseudo-intellectual discussions, gossip about sex, and vaguely about their relationship ties. One woman, Elaine, is working on a page of an adult colouring book, while a newcomer, Sofi, is struggling to read George Eliot's Daniel Deronda (which yes is a metaphor though Infinite Life is less viciously satirical). All of the women are eager to share their experiences at the clinic—it very quickly becomes apparent this is not a spa or resort, the chairs overlook a parking lot and the back of a bakery— where a mysterious unseen doctor prescribes fasts and juice diets. 

Christine Horne (Angels in America, Prince Hamlet, Tom at the Farm) is Sofi who serves as a timekeeper announcing the amount of time that has passed between scene changes. It is an awkward theatrical device, though not as awkward as the two fourth wall breaking monologues, though it pays off as Sofi's mental state deteriorates. (It must be noted that the lighting design by Steve Lucas conveys not only the various moods of a California day or night, but also the internal moods of the women). At 47, though the other women reassure her she doesn't look it, she is the youngest of the patients. They offer her helpful, and contradictory advice, about which days are the worst and the wonder of purging bile or sleeping. They are all drifting ghostlike through the day, perking up only to discuss what they are reading or share scandalous stories with ambiguous morals.

The details of the women's ailments are horrific and are played for laughs. Kyra Harper (Rockabye) as Yvette, regales the women with a lengthy description of her lengthy medical history which includes a lengthy list of diseases and syndromes climaxing with cancer. An attack of Amblyopia is one punchline, the names of antibiotics is another. Both are hilarious in a very disturbing manner. The clinic appears able to cure anything if you are willing to suffer through the fasting. Though most of the women are repeat patients, their sicknesses have returned. The common component is pain. The women struggle to describe pain, are as supportive of each other as they are competitive in the severity of their individual sufferings, and seem to accept that one must feel pain in order to live. It is an all consuming and rather bleak existence. Into this enclave enters a man, Nelson, played by a shirtless Ari Cohen who is a blandly handsome everyman. The women are curious but not that concerned. Except for Sofi who meets him first.

Sofi's pain is very specific and explicit as are its potential root causes. It is teased out slowly in a series of phone calls Sofi makes while unable to sleep. Will Nelson, of the half-hearted flirting and banter, be the solution? The one to "fuck the pain away?" The suspense and sexual tension is minor, playwright Annie Baker (The Flick) and/or director Jackie Maxwell (Withrow Park, London Road) are busy recreating the boredom which these women are existing in. The only excitement, the only way they know they are alive, is by being in pain. The bleakness is upended by the remarkable ensemble. Brenda Bazinet (Angels in America) sparkles despite having little to do and Jean Yoon is a revelation. The emotions the character experiences, from wonder to puzzlement to envy to resignation, flit across Yoon's face before being eclipsed by a radiant understanding smile. It is subtle but perfectly tuned and riveting without being showy.

But it is Nancy Palk (Mad Madge, Prodigal, Withrow Park, Queen Goneril, King Lear, Wormwood) as Eileen who is comedic gold. Hiding behind a pronounced limp and seeming frailty, she makes the smallest gesture or withering glance into voluminous intentions. All of the ensemble is excellent at allowing seemingly unintentional reactions, which are quickly smothered, to speak with precision. But Palk excels. So it is fortunate that the final speech, where Baker struggles to tie her main themes together and Eileen's extreme pain is revealed, is given to Palk. It is heart wrenching and devastatingly bleak to hear and see the pain, and joy, of being alive expressed. These women, and this man, are not in pursuit of the Infinite Life the clinic promises, that would be hellish, they are struggling to live within the lives they have.