'Death Tax' a compelling tale of family responsibility

“People who have money are preserved ... people who do not have money are not preserved.”

That prophetic pronouncement from an aging grande dame in declining health comes early in Lucas Hnath's “Death Tax,” a lean, provocative drama about money, mortality and family in a Chicago premiere at Lookingglass Theatre.

The capacity of wealth to sustain life, compel behavior and splinter families underscores this domestic drama, which unfolds against an ever-expanding web of lies, deception and self-interest. That we're never entirely sure which of Hnath's concisely drawn characters are telling the truth, or where their allegiances lie, makes this play intriguing.

Director Heidi Stillman illustrates this opposition by having characters square off against each other. Literally. Characters mostly interact while standing on opposite sides of various sparsely furnished rooms. It's almost as if the space, defined by white tape and little else, was a boxing ring whose occupants struggle to survive each round.

The action unfolds over five swift, confident scenes, with the first and last taking place in the room belonging to the bedridden Maxine (a brusque, imperious Deanna Dunagan, whose character is invariably a step ahead of everyone else). She's the aforementioned grande dame — of failing body and sound mind — whose wealth guarantees her first-rate health care in her final days.

Maxine believes her estranged daughter has made a deal with her nurse Tina, a Haitian immigrant with a troubled past (the desperate but ever-canny J. Nicole Brooks), to hasten Maxine's death.

Aware that Tina needs money for her ongoing custody battle with her ex-husband, Maxine offers to pay the young woman a weekly stipend, plus a $200,000 bonus, if she keeps Maxine alive until Jan. 1, when new tax laws will considerably reduce the unnamed daughter's inheritance.

After another nurse catches Tina accepting a check, Tina enlists her supervisor and onetime lover Todd (a fine performance of unrequited love and enormous need from Raymond Fox) in the scheme.

Recognizing that something is up, the unnamed daughter (played with a weary credibility by the wonderfully equivocal Louise Lamson) appeals to Tina, suggesting that Maxine cut her off out of spite. How is it right, the daughter asks, that Maxine has so much and her daughter and grandson have to struggle, even relying on food stamps to get by?

“No disrespect, but what did you do?” counters Tina, describing in explicit detail the care the elderly Maxine requires, care which the daughter has not provided.

“I help her live,” Tina says.

Hnath expresses succinctly and in great detail the myriad emotions — spite, love, the desire for money, self-interest — that drive these characters. At the same time, he poses provocative questions: Are parents required to assist their adult children financially? Are children or grandchildren obligated to take in an infirm relative if it places an additional financial burden on their own families? And what becomes of elderly patients who outlive their money?

There are no easy answers. As Maxine observes in a matter-of-fact tone, “no one does something for nothing.”

How sad it is to think she's right.

“Death Tax”

★ ★ ★

<b>Location:</b> Lookingglass Theatre, Water Tower Water Works, 821 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, (312) 337-0665 or <a href="http://lookingglasstheatre.org">lookingglasstheatre.org</a>

<b>Showtimes:</b> 7:30 p.m. Wednesday through Friday; 3 and 7:30 p.m. Saturday and Sunday through Oct. 12. Also 3 p.m. Oct. 2 and 9. No 7:30 p.m. show Sept. 21 and Oct. 5

<b>Running time:</b> About 80 minutes, no intermission

<b>Tickets:</b> $40-$65

<b>Parking:</b> Paid garages nearby

<b>Rating:</b> For teens and older, features mature subject matter and language