Hotline
Austin American Statesman
'Hotline' Admirable - Angst, humor, ready-made.
by Michael BarnesWith splendid efficiency modern man has designed intersections of common activity where problems tend to bundle and fray.
The care previously given by families and small communities is centralized in today's hospitals, courts and schools. These
streamlined overload, and, almost inevitably, break down.
Likewise, crisis hotline centers carry more than their fair share of emotional traffic. Both abusers and victims unburden their
despair on stressed-out social workers through the marvel of telecommunication. In the end, these workers require as much
care as their clients.
It's odd that television has not discovered these hotbeds of ready-made angst and morbid humor. Instead the task has fallen
on University of Texas playwright Wes Chick. His Hotline concentrates, as would any series produced by Steven Bochco,
on the manageable personal problems of the professional caregivers. After all, the more intractable problems of their clients
are not so easily formed into dramas.
Measured by the standards of television, Chick achieves considerable density and balance. His characters' behavior patterns
are recognizable, but not too mundane; his plot creates tension without relying on melodrama. The mechanics of Chick's program,
however, almost overpower the fragility of his central story. Act One finds four intake workers in a sunken office well, splendidly
designed with intersecting angles by Michael Mehler. As the workers guide the needy through each crisis, the actual callers pace
on platforms raises above the office well, lit perhaps too intricately by Robert Bowen. Phone and in-person conversations begin
to compete, nerves frazzle and more than one worker seems destined for burn-out.
The chorus of callers (Amy Witney, Travis Aitken, Paul de Cordova, and Jennifer Noonan) made a deep impression in the first
act. They outlined their neurosis scrupulously, and Noonan was especially unsettling as the self-mutilating Dawn. By the second
act, however, their calls became repetitive, and focus switched to the intake workers, none of whom escaped brutalization.
Sweet B.J. became distracted, easy-going Beth turned anxious and earnest Zach broke down all together. David Stanford,
Amy Shoults and Michael Miller executed these roles with understated finesse.
But the greatest burden lay on the frail shoulders of Katy, a compulsive caregiver who is blind to her own pain, while dishonest
about her involvement with clients. The character is written too saintly, but Tracy Wilson who played her with modulated
ambiguity: a fine job in a difficult role.
Chick's intense, overlapping dialogue is both the wonder and the weakness of this play. The avalanche of distress works the
audience's nerves, mirroring the condition of the workers. One begins to ask: has everyone been abused in life, client and caregiver
alike? And if so, need we be?
I admired the production more than I was able to enjoy it. Compare Chick's technical achievement with that of the PBX. You
can juggle a lot of calls, but perhps you'd rather not pick up the phone.