Laura Winters’ play will be produced by The New Group at Pershing Square Signature Center.
Madison Ferris and Danny J. Gomez star in Laura Winters’ “All of Me,” directed by Ashley Brooke Monroe, at the New Group at Pershing Square Signature Center.
(© Monique Carboni)
Romantic comedies have a familiar formula: two people meet, they start dating despite their loved ones’ objections, their relationship thrives, there’s an abrupt break-up and periods of loneliness, and then it all ends with a grand gesture that brings the two lovers together. The New Group’s production of Laura Winters’ play All of Me follows this structure closely, with one key change: both of the main romantic characters are disabled (played by disabled actors), one uses a power wheelchair, the other rides a scooter, and both use AAC (alternative and assistive communication) text-to-speech devices. All of Me takes us down a familiar path, but by focusing on disability, it invites us to look anew at the genre and see those who are often left behind.
When Lucy (Madison Ferris) meets Alfonso (Danny J. Gomez) outside the hospital, they flirt. As they communicate through AAC, the play familiarizes the audience with disability time and familiarizes them with the temporal contours of AAC: the pauses, the pace, the non-rhythmic syntax of digital speech, the facial expressions, the physical gestures, the chair choreography. In all this, the expectations of non-disabled audiences and their standard schedules and communication are eschewed. Here, we follow Lucy and Alfonso’s schedules. This is one of the many ways in which this play and this production center the perspectives, embodiments, and experiences of people with disabilities.
Lucy lives with her mother Connie (Kyra Sedgwick), her sister Jackie (Lily Mae Harrington), and her stepbrother Moose (Bryan Fury Morabito), all of whom care for her. In contrast to Amy Herzog’s Mary Jane, All of Me portrays bad caregiving, most notably Connie, whose caregiving, while loving, is terrible in almost every respect. She clings to Lucy’s life before her disability and her singing career, seems to think she can miraculously cure Lucy through prayer, willpower, and physical therapy, and refuses to acknowledge that her daughter’s condition is worsening, as she does herself (she suffers from chronic back pain, but is embarrassed to use a cane and steadfastly refuses to think of herself as disabled). Through Connie, Winters teaches the audience a lot about disability, language, accommodation, accessibility, and ableism in an integrated and natural way that never comes across as preachy.
Pershing Square Signature Center’s New Group presents Laura Winters’ “All of Me,” directed by Ashley Brooke Monroe, and starring Madison Ferris as Lucy and Bryan Fury Moravio as Moose.
(© Monique Carboni)
Closely tied to the depiction of caregiving is the issue of class and how it intersects with disability. Lucy’s family struggles to make ends meet and Lucy’s accessibility needs are often unmet, symbolized by the unstable wooden ramp in their home. Meanwhile, Alfonso comes from a wealthy family and has a well-paid job; he has his own home that is fully wheelchair accessible and a carer who cooks and drives him around. This creates tension between Connie and Alfonso’s mother, Elena (Florencia Lozano), as the two also clash over their views on disability, their roles as mothers, and their adult children’s dating lives.
There’s plenty of sexiness in a good romantic comedy. Disabled characters are almost always undercut, but Winters makes the political choice to portray disabled characters with active sex lives. One particularly great scene sees Lucy and Alfonso separated by Lucy’s front door, which Alfonso’s wheelchair can’t fit through (a clever disabled interpretation of Pyramus and Thisbe). From either side of the door, they tell each other what they want to do sexually. It’s a decidedly R-rated kind of side-by-side sexting, despite the lack of physical contact, and it’s also full of very funny situational comedy moments, like Connie asleep a few feet away.
This scene is a testament to just how well-crafted the play is. All of Me is well-constructed, has well-written, complex characters, and is genuinely funny while exploring disability issues with nuance. Winters does something rare for a comedy writer, juggling multiple styles of humor, from Lucy’s dry sarcasm to Alfonso’s dad jokes, Connie’s blunt jokes, and Elena’s satire of the upper class. Ferris is a master of using humor as both defense and attack. Gomez and Ferris balance and complement each other like a perfect wine pairing. Lozano plays Elena’s contempt for the elites brilliantly, and Sedgwick is top-notch, capturing Connie’s pain, exhaustion, and problematic desires for her daughter all in a performance that is clearly hysterical and enduring.
Madison Ferris, Kyra Sedgwick and Lily Mae Harrington star in Laura Winters’ All of Me, presented by New Group at Pershing Square Signature Center and directed by Ashley Brooke Monroe.
(© Monique Carboni)
Directed by Ashley Brooke Monroe, the play expertly conveys emotional pathos without falling into the dreaded tonal traps of disability representation. It never feels like cheesy “inspiration porn,” nor does it become sentimental or saccharine, nor does it reduce disabled characters to objects of pity. Lucy and Alfonso have agency, and their perspectives and feelings always take precedence.
Romantic comedies end when a couple reaffirms their love. No one knows where that will lead, and in most cases, it’s hard to even imagine what it will be like. All of Me ends with their loving reunion, but it also forces us to think about Lucy and Alfonso’s lives beyond the final act, and by extension, the value of the very idea of a future for people with disabilities. While Connie can’t envision a future for Lucy beyond a miracle cure or being a receptionist at Walmart, Alfonso helps Lucy think more broadly about college, work, independence, love, and a long, fulfilling life — one that is ongoing and long-lasting, not an end.