For many adults living today, COVID-19 has been their only experience with a pandemic. It was scary because, in its earliest days, there seemed to be no rhyme nor reason regarding whom it would attack or how serious it would be. Some might die; some might have what felt like a cold; others might feel absolutely nothing.
But for those of us who remember the AIDS crisis of the 1980s, we remember being certain of one thing: If you had AIDS, you were going to die. In many communities, particularly those with high concentrations of homosexual men, the losses were staggering—made even more difficult by a common perception that AIDS was a punishment for a “sinful” lifestyle. Those left behind to grieve often had to do it privately. Finding connection and community was vital to getting through it.
Playwright Steven Dietz is a straight man who was active in the theater community in the 1980s—which was hit hard by HIV/AIDS—meaning he lost many friends. He explores this difficult period in American history and the desire for connection in his play Lonely Planet, now running through Jan. 31 at Brüka Theatre.
Despite the play’s context and theme of friendship in a time of loss, know that this play is funny. It also isn’t simply a rumination on death. In fact, it’s a life-affirming story of friendship and its many daily joys.
Lonely Planet is set in a map store on the oldest street in a random American city. Jody (played by Rod Hearn) is its gay proprietor—a gentle hermit who’d rather experience the world through his many maps than by stepping outside the shop’s door. His only visitor is Carl (Bradford Ka’ai’ai), a talkative, loud, eccentric gay man who has become a platonic friend of Jody’s and is his only connection to the outside world.
Though the script never actually includes the word “AIDS” or even “pandemic,” it’s clear the subject’s specter haunts every corner and conversation.
In fact, the men really spend most of the play, directed by Stacey Spain, talking about nothing, really … Carl’s many jobs (which may or may not be real), his fixation with the nation of Chad, Jody’s bizarre dreams that always seem to feature Carl trying (and failing) to save him, the way maps shape our perceptions of the world, and the chairs that keep appearing in the shop—chairs left behind by their friends, a physical manifestation of the two men’s growing losses. As the chairs pile up, their looming emptiness insinuates itself into every word and thought.
Hearn’s portrayal of Jody is brilliantly subtle, artfully embodying the man’s fear and social anxiety in every move and expression. He is the polar opposite of Carl, whom Ka’ai’ai skillfully imbues with all the emotion we don’t get to see from Jody—the playfulness, the hurt, the terror, the hope and dread. Together, they have a natural rapport, elevating what is, on paper, a simple story into beautiful magic.
Each man, in his own way, is struggling to make sense of the world—Jody through his many literal maps, and Carl through his own chaotic map of loss created by empty chairs. Alone, each man is adrift; together, they are made whole.
Notably, each chair bears a sheet of paper under its seat; these feature the names of Washoe County residents lost to AIDS during that period whose names are on the National AIDS Quilt.
The chairs—44 in total—were collected as part of The Chair Project, a partnership between Brüka and Our Center, a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting and empowering members of the local LGBTQ+ community. In honor of World AIDS Day on Dec. 1, the public was invited to donate chairs to the production in remembrance of loved ones lost due to AIDS-related complications. Each chair is now a memorial, carrying a tribute under its seat to those remembered locally.
Despite its origins and the historical context surrounding it, Lonely Planet is a relatable reminder for all of us that when you find a true connection to someone who gets you and loves you anyway, even the simplest, quietest of moments together can see us through the darkest of times.
Lonely Planet is onstage at Brüka Theatre, at 99 N. Virginia St., in Reno, at 7:30 p.m., Saturday, Jan. 17; Wednesday through Saturday, Jan. 21-24; and Wednesday through Saturday, Jan. 28-31. Sunday matinees are scheduled for Jan. 18 and 25 at 2 p.m. Tickets are $34.55, including fees, with discounts. For tickets and information, visit bruka.org.