In The Weatherbox, a peculiarly likable though rough-around-the-edges meditation on the American family from Rattlestick, playwright Travis Baker hits so many uncomfortably true-to-life notes that his play frequently makes you feel like you forgot to breathe. Mama's boy Tom (the appealingly over-the-top Rob Sedgwick) is nursing his cancer-ridden, near-death mother (Johanna Lesiter) when his long-lost and long-hated siblings Carol (Geneva Carr) and Dylan (Ivan Martin) arrive to say farewell. Like any reality-based drama worth its weight in torment, their appearance causes all hell to break loose, every familial slight of the last 30 years rearing its ugly head--pent-up revelation is the bread and butter of domestic drama. But what sets The Weatherbox apart is that while it begins like Cries and Whispers, it quickly starts behaving like Polyester. ''Make me a sandwich, would you?'' Carol asks Tom. ''Fuck you,'' he cheerfully responds. If that's not the true voice of the American family, I'll eat my Ph.D. in family dysfunction.
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