"Shadow Boxers" By Robin Whitehouse   Reviewed by Melissa Anelli for Theatre Reviews Limited   "Heaven is a place where all God's mistakes go," insists the autistic Battery in Fat Chance Production's newest show, "Shadow Boxers."  The show takes a look at a "demented little universe" in which the inhabitants' vices do worse than kill; they cripple.   In an old-fashioned pharmacy somewhere upstate, New York, a small, unconventional family finds itself simultaneously dealing with drugs, disease, and death.  Henry, the muscular dystrophyed protagonist, has just skipped the funeral of his twin brother, Philip, also an MD sufferer.  Philip has committed suicide, and we see Henry contemplate the same, until autistic Battery barges in.  Rounded out by Max, the gentle widower, Rufus, the eccentric Vietnam Vet, and Moona, the attention-seeking lesbian, the entire crew has the same problem; they take themselves and their problems too seriously.  It is the abrasive ex-drug addict Jane, barging onto the scene for some Prozac, who has what it takes to shake things up a bit.   The show on a whole is entertaining and very tastefully done.  The disease afflicted characters are not overdone; they are not caricatures of their stereotypes.  Each person is dealing with a specific problem in which they are absorbed.  However, it isn't until the second act that the crux of the story comes into play.  The first act is mostly introductory, concerned with giving the audience a chance to get a handle on the characters.  The beginnings of the predictable love story between Jane (Shannon Lee Jones) and Henry have begun to develop (despite the lack of the initial spark between the two that is referred to often by other characters) and we get a shockingly real taste of autistic trauma, but these aspects fall short of tying into each other.    The second act clarifies both Jane and Henry's internal struggles remarkably well.  They fall for each other discovering that physical and mental handicaps are more alike than they might have thought.  The show deals with nothing else until, out of the blue, the group decides to start celebrating life and laughing about their troubles.  Something has obviously happened to them, but we are never sure what.    Rhett Rossi skillfully portrays the struggling Henry, giving him dignity and empowerment combined with emotion and sensitivity.  His scene in which he is dancing with Jane and unable to dip her is among the most powerful; he becomes frustrated, angry, and disappointed in himself, all in one shot.    A real bright spot of the production is Paul Eisemann's portrayal of Battery.  He is frighteningly realistic as he stumbles over words, totters back and forth, and occasionally becomes hysterical.  It is reminiscent of Dustin Hoffman's portrayal of the autistic Ray in the critically acclaimed "The Rainman."  His short and quirky movements, face full of child-like expression, and almost-bursting heart combine, replacing the pity one is inclined to feel toward his character with charm and loveability.  He is obviously talent not often come by, and has certainly proved his merits here.   As Jane, Shannon Lee Jones is the edge on the production.  With a "street" air about her, she proves to Henry that he is not the only one with problems and helps him deal with his life.  Jones has a very casual presence, a natural ease and seamless interpretation of her character.  Ron L.Cox's Rufus is full of spunk and vibrance, and seems to be the only character with his act together.  He makes for a lot of the show's funniest moments with his no-nonsense attitude and vulgar language.    If the plot did not meander into varying themes, or the characterizations were a bit more lucid, the show would take a whole different shape.  Some of the acting is unsurpassed, while some inconsistent (Polly Adams' Moona, as an example).  It needs a main focus, a clear signal to the audience about what we are supposed to feel towards these people and their plight.  Without that subtext, the plot becomes just another look at people with problems, something no one on this earth lacks.   As a first full-length drama, however, Whitehouse should be proud of her work.  Depicting such complex characters with honesty, class, and compassion is a credit both to her, the actors and Director (David DeBeck).  It shows how we all "shadow box" one way or another in our dealing with every-day difficulties, and how important and necessary it is to actually punch something.   Reviewed on Thursday, April 1, 1999.   Melissa Anelli is a native of New York City with a passion for theatre. She is currently an English major at Georgetown University in Washington, DC. Back to top of page