Lowcountry – 28 June 2025

I don’t know if this is a common experience or just the way I grew up, but my mother taught me to love everybody except rapists, murderers, and pedophiles. Lowcountry ambitiously takes on the least lovable and understandable members of our society and humanizes them. Protagonist David (Babak Tafti) is a registered sex offender, but he’s not a creep. He’s a genuinely nice man trying to get back on his feet in a world that has barred him from true participation for life. He can’t go anywhere within 100 feet of a school zone, and subtext reveals that he has struggled to find housing that meets the criterion of where he is allowed to exist.  His sexual addiction sponsor, Paul (Keith Kupferer) works very hard to get him situated and keep him on the path of celibacy, for which he is grateful. However, David lacks friendships outside of the group, and yearns for a more authentic form of human connection. Enter Tally (Jodi Balfour), a dating app match who is quirky and inquisitive, but seems to fully accept David in a way that is genuinely heartwarming—until, of course, it is revealed that she has her own motive for being there, and loving/saving David isn’t really it.

Of the two characters who get the most stage time, Tally is the most difficult to love. David quite appropriately loses interest in her when she gets drunk and becomes increasingly loud, obnoxious, childish, and nosy. She starts slipping up and revealing the things she knows about David. Yet even as he feels increasingly betrayed, he doesn’t take advantage of her. He is a gentleman. He tries to help her sober up, offers to call her a car (even though she is disappointed that he is willing to let her call her own car, it is worth noting that every time this conversation came up, he offered first), and never displays any kind of predatory behavior. Towards the end, she is struggling with the buckle on her shoe and David helps her—touching her arouses him, but in the ensuing moments it’s clear that she is taking advantage of him, and that this is what she has wanted all along. Afterwards he cries like a baby and his pain is genuine—every hope he had at regaining partial custody of his child and living the kind of life he did prison time to earn is gone because of one moment of weakness that he wasn’t fully in control over. And somehow, the audience is sitting here, sympathizing with ephebophile over the empowered woman so desperate to get pregnant that she seduces him. The role reversal in our heads and in our hearts is truly astounding—and it opens the door to other conversations about who we do and do not have empathy for. Why is it that our empathy has exceptions in the first place?

John Gromada’s sound design is the most powerful design element in this show, not only with the scene of extended phone conversation but also in the subtle moments where he lets us know when there is a world outside of David’s apartment and when there isn’t. Coupled with Arnulfo Maldonado’s highly functional set (including running water for the kitchen), design elements grounded the audience in reality. Lighting (Heather Gilbert) showed us who had the power over the situation—whoever last touched the dimmers on David’s wall was in control for the moment. Making the power dynamics visible in this way was a true stroke of genius. The most revealing design choices, in both a metaphorical and literal sense, were Sarah Laux’s costuming choices. David’s outfit reflected his humility. The muted colors showed his restraint and that he was not going to let himself get excited about this date because he needed to remain in control. Tally was clothed for reckless abandon, deliberately made to look younger than her character says she is. She wears neon blue—two pieces so that when she stretches a little bit of her midriff is revealed, and platform heels that don’t belong on a date in someone’s home.

Abby Rosebrock’s poignant writing coupled with Jo Bonney’s intentional direction make Lowcountry a play that keeps us guessing on Tally’s nefarious motives while steadfast in David’s strong moral nature and good intentions. They keep us rooting for the “bad” guy and examining within ourselves the very nature of what it means to be good or bad. As Lowcountry suggests, drawing that line can’t be as simple as we’ve been taught to believe.

I attended this performance on a press pass from Boneau/Bryan-Brown.