Embarking on the end of her undergraduate years at Brown University as an English Major in 2004, Sara Ruhl wrote her first play. Instead of writing a 100-page thesis paper, Paula Vogel (a teacher and Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright) aided her in writing the three part series, wrapped up in one innovative package that has come to be known as Passion Play.

On the surface the two playwrights have little in common but when you dig a few acts-deep you find that social commentary explodes from the seams. Dead Man’s Cell Phone explores the idea of an afterlife lived through a stranger. Our cell phones are comparable to a vital organ. We breathe our family, friends, work, and life through them. They tell our life story, hold secret information, numbers, pictures, and personal schedules. What if someone got a hold of yours and took it upon him or herself to dig into your life after you had passed?

Ruhl’s works are straight up bizarre but brilliant nonetheless. Polly Noonan, who has worked with Sarah for ten years plus plays Jean, the lead in Steppenwolf’s production of Dead Man’s Cell Phone. Here she talks about why she admires all of her work. “In Melancholy Play, one character becomes so depressed she actually turns into an almond. And then the other characters have to play a scene with her. It’s totally ludicrous but quite wonderful; to watch two actors talk to an almond. And yet if you’ve ever dealt with someone who is deeply depressed, there are moments when people do seem to enter an almond state.”

Ruhl has created her own category in play writing. Out of the ordinary and absurd, yet grounded with a message. Steppenwolf’s production of Dead Man’s Cell Phone will be coming to a close by the time this article comes out. If you can make it to the last two weeks, I strongly encourage you to do so. If you’re lazy and just can’t bring yourself to hop on the EL train, hunt this play down on your laptop and read it, although, be warned, there is an understanding of these characters and of the comedy that is best perceived live on the stage. It’s hard to grasp the dark humor strictly from the page and…seeing is believing, especially with a show of this nature. I mean, would you believe ice-skating widows and a black market organ lamp? See, it’s hard out of context! And, to boot, brilliant comedic actors like Marilyn Dodds Frank (Mrs. Gottlieb) find an abundance of jokes on stage through pure physicality.

My favorite scenes took place at the Gottlieb’s home. The house was eerie, the Mrs., a personal favorite, was delightfully strange, and the rest of the family had equally eccentric character. Visually, the set was perfection. A cross between Greek Theatre and a room from Clue, you could almost smell the dust on the blood-red velour curtains. The fancy meal consisting of meat was mouth watering; Gasps were heard and tummy’s rumbled with excitement, not to mention the scene was absolutely hilarious and became increasingly more so as you discover Jean is a vegetarian. Another enjoyable moment was the drunken exchange between Jean and Hermia, which was fantastically played by Mary Beth Fisher. Marc Grapey’s (Gordon) monologue welcoming us back into the second act was so incredible, it made me wish I was male so that I could use that material for auditions. Director Jessica Thebus painted gorgeous stage pictures left and right, the most touching taking place when the dead man’s younger brother Dwight, pleasantly played by Coburn Gross, gets it on with the hilariously awkward Jean in the stationary store, and paper falls from the sky. The most adorable paper houses are then placed along the stage whilst snow begins to fall. Magic was in the air, and for me; this was when this miraculous world became a reality.

Unlike other farcical writers, the cutesy David Lindsay- Abaire, wild man Nicky Silver or the madcap Charles Busch, Sarah somehow goes one step further by allowing her characters to physically carry out their verbal rants. Walking into fires, traveling to the afterlife and back, are all mundane experiences in her world. Genius use of language and metaphor is yet another thing that sets her plays apart. A Pulitzer Prize finalist, she has won many other prestigious awards including the MacArthur Fellowship in 2006 where, during the announcement, her plays were described as “vivid and adventurous theatrical works that poignantly juxtapose the mundane aspects of daily life with mythic themes of love and war. "Each character has a deeper meaning. Her plays are very poetic in that regard. Martha Lavey, Artistic Director for Steppenwolf pointed out that the characters In Dead Man’s Cell Phone are very symbolic. Jean, the woman who takes Gordon’s phone is the very thing responsible for life. Gordon is, in Lavey’s words, “near relative to “Gordian”, that knot that represents the problem insoluble in its own terms and solved only by a cutting through. So Jean is handed a life that is a Gordian knot and it is hers to cut through.”

To be successful in the most absurd realm, smarts are not only necessary, they are vital to keep the play moving and the audience entertained. Similar to Marry Poppins’ famous dip in the paintings, these plays resemble a cartoon world clashing with reality. However, these aren’t your average Saturday mornings. These are more like late night Family Guy episodes, and the reality I speak of is closer to reality TV. Thus the journey from page to stage would be most difficult with this genre. But when it works, as it does on the Steppenwolf stage, it is a fulfilling venture to watch.