‘Cost Of Living’ Review: The Agony of Taking Care and Being Taken Care Of

“When the thoughts come. Y’know. The Thoughts. That loneliness,” Eddie (Lewis D. Wheeler) says.

As the word loneliness sinks in, a distinct sigh from the audience echoes throughout the Roberts Studio Theatre, where the stage is full of lit windows — a reminder that such feelings exist in every household and that the audience is full of people who have taken care of others and are possibly being taken care of themselves.

While loneliness, vulnerability, and dependency on others are a big part of life, rarely are these themes put in the spotlight the way they are in “Cost Of Living,” written by Martyna Majok and directed by Alex Lonati.

The play follows the stories of two caregivers and the people with disabilities who they take care of. Eddie and Ani (Stephanie Gould) are an estranged couple who are brought back into each other’s life after Ani’s car accident, which causes a spinal cord injury. The actors vividly construct the dynamic between the two characters, who had been together for almost 21 years before breaking up.

The actors’ intense chemistry makes it believable that they must have a past together and are now in a complicated, painful reunion when Eddie — now unemployed and in another relationship — offers to replace Ani’s primary nurse because he needs the money. Ani, surprised and maybe even angered by this sudden return, eventually grows to like his company while a bittersweet feeling about why he only now shares this caring side of him lingers. Ani’s apparent harshness towards Eddie — despite which Gould skillfully manages to illuminate Ani’s latent tender side, thus adding depth to the character — progressively dissipates as his verbose, sensitive personality, delivered incredibly by Wheeler, wins the audience over. At the same time, Ani’s straightforwardness and sarcasm — one of the play’s richest sources of humor — gives insight into what such a life change feels like.

On the other hand, John (Sean Leviashvili) is a witty graduate student with cerebral palsy who hires a caregiver on his own for the first time. A Princeton graduate who is visibly under a financial burden and works many jobs to get by, Jess (Gina Fonseca) learns how to slow down and take care of John by acknowledging how exposed and vulnerable he is. She must learn to share about her struggles, family, and college life just like how John shares so much of him — a character development that is barely presented on stage. Witnessing Jess’s lack of patience and overall tension when learning how to interact with John is unsettling when put in contrast with John, who seems to know how to deal with these situations — perhaps because he has done so before. That upsetting feeling is a result of Leviashvili and Fonseca’s electric dynamic: The actors confidently bring these bold characters to life and then starkly express their different personalities and ways of life through their interactions. Yet that feeling persists throughout the play, making Ani and Eddie’s story more appealing.

The two relationships — a love story from the past and a newly forged partnership — evolve along with each other, with alternating scenes taking place on the same stage. The dialogue is always raw and honest, while at the same time so incredibly funny that one could not have guessed that loneliness and disability is at the center of the production.

The production design is quite simple in a way that allows the script to move the audience. The costumes consist of everyday clothes, and the props imitate a customary house setting. Ideally this would allow a focus on the dialogue that addresses multifaceted issues such as loss, the impact of crises on relationships, toxic positivity, or hired care. Yet the silence after every scene is abruptly filled with uplifting music that doesn’t allow for further contemplation.

“Cost of Living” doesn’t only address disability — it also advocates for actors with disabilities. Martyna Majok set a stipulation for the play: Ani and John had to be played by actors with disabilities. This is not only important considering that few productions are willing to make accommodations to include actors with disabilities, but it also predetermines the play’s sense of honesty, its most appealing and crucial characteristic. While this is a play about disability, it is also a play about four lonely souls and how their socioeconomic background drives them together and sometimes divides them.

“Cost Of Living” is unique in the fact that it does not simply cause the audience to sympathize with the characters — the audience relates to them. The audience is full of those who have taken care of someone in their lives, or are already being — or will soon be — taken care of. This audience turns this production of “Cost Of Living” into a pure example of the kind of theater that imitates life and helps those exposed to it cope with their own struggles.

“Cost of Living” runs at the Huntington’s Calderwood Pavilion through March 30.