A funny thing happened on the way to Mars

“It’s lonely out in space,” as Elton John once said. Urbanite Theatre's production of Leegrid Stevens' "Spaceman” reveals how lonely it can get. 

Molly Jennis (Terri Weagant) is the lonely astronaut in question. She’s embarked on an eight-month solo flight to Mars in the not-too-distant future. After Molly lands, she’ll set up the infrastructure for a human colony on the red planet. 

Her husband had died attempting the same mission only one year before. Molly intends to finish the job. You figure she’s up for the task. Molly’s a scientist, an athlete, and a rigorously trained astronaut. But that’s all backstory — and you find it out later.

When “Spaceman” opens, you’re in the dark. Literally. You can’t see a thing. But you hear the sound of thunder. After the Aeneas blasts off, the play jumps ahead seven months. Then the lights come on. You see Molly at the center of a shiny, high-tech control console. But Molly’s not so shiny.

Over the last 215 days, Molly’s dealt with solar flares, asteroids, weightlessness, communication gaps, bone loss, foul body odor and bad ventilation.

But solitude is her worst problem. As the days go by, it’s been slowly driving Molly nuts. Up to now, the widowed warrior has held the madness at bay with several strategies. Routine is one — she constantly checks air-pressure, hull integrity, and digital systems, and then makes reports to Mission Control. She also plays mind games, like fantasy football, improvising song parodies, and eating imaginary omelets. 

Molly’s sanity strategies are failing — and she knows it. Earth’s TV networks periodically send earnest questions from the folks back home. Her answers have turned into raving insults and incoherent rants. 

After months of toughing out the isolation, Molly finally activates her AI “Mission Buddy”— aka “Jim.” He’s not much help. Molly’s got 29 days left to go, and she’s got to keep it together until then. If the shrink back in Houston decides she’s lost it, NASA could lock her out of the ship’s systems and run the Mars mission by remote control. 

On top of that, another solar flare has erupted — even worse than the previous one. Its blast of radiation could fry her capsule’s hard drives. And turn the Aeneas into a shiny metal coffin in space.

“Spaceman” is gripping science fiction. But it’s primarily a character study of a woman cut off from humanity. Director Summer Dawn Wallace keeps a laser focus on Molly’s internal struggles, not the gee-whiz wonders of space exploration. She smartly balances the astronaut’s physical performance with her ongoing reports, monologues, songs and rants. By the end of the play, you’re clear about who Molly is.

Fight or flight — in a spaceship

Weagant utterly loses herself in Molly’s persona. Her portrayal reminds me of a caged wildcat — restless, snarling, constantly pacing back and forth. Molly’s flight-or-fight response is kicking in. On Earth, she could go outside and run a few miles. In space, that’s not an option. The actor lets you know how that feels. It’s an incandescent, high-strung, high-energy characterization.

A platoon of unseen voiceover actors back her up. The list includes Vickie Daignault, as Molly’s mother; Billy Lyons as the voice of Mission Control, and Casey Murphy as “Jim,” the AI “Mission Buddy.” In one fleeting scene, Murphy also briefly appears as Molly’s late husband, Harry. (He’s either a hypoxia-induced hallucination or a straight-up ghost.)

Tom Hansen’s futuristic set design is striking, but not overdone. (Molly’s control console reminds me of the electric organ in “Phantom of the Paradise,” and I mean that as a compliment.) It’s cool, but also cramped and claustrophobic. 

Molly’s spacesuit is studded with her sponsors’ logos (SpaceX, Amazon and Dunkin’ Donuts, to name a few). Kudos to Dee Johnson for the witty but believable costume. Ethan Vail’s lighting evokes the cold, sterile vacuum of space and the burning emotions inside Molly’s mind. 

Rew Tippin’s sound design conveys the self-contained artificiality of Molly’s space capsule. Combining their talents, Tippin and Vail hit it out of the park with the mind-bending, flashing, thundering blast-off that starts the show.

All this talent serves the play’s mission of character-based storytelling. Stevens’ script is a great launch pad. On the page, Molly’s dialogue is pure rocket fuel; her personality is multilayered and engaging. “Spaceman” is a smart blend of hard-science and sharp characterization. Stevens is a great writer. And an economical one, too.

Science fiction isn’t just about world-building. It’s also about world-hinting. Stevens is very good at that. The playwright deftly drops clues about the near-future Earth that Molly left behind. The commercialization of space flight is one big clue. 

Molly’s uniform is studded with her sponsors’ logo and does commercials for Japanese comfort food. There’s also a “Survivor Space” show — which boils down to ordinary people doing astronaut cosplay in simulated missions. It’s cheesy reality TV. 

But from the networks’ perspective, Molly’s mission is just another form of reality TV. That may explain why NASA sent her on a solo flight in the first place. Ratings, baby. The threat of death and danger always grabs the viewers.

That’s an implication, never bluntly stated in the play. The hint is more terrifying than on-the-nose exposition. Stevens’ script is tight. Sometimes, too tight.

While Molly’s story is compelling, I think there’s a missing scene. After she blasts off, the play immediately fast-forwards to the final month of her trek. By now, Molly’s an astronaut on the verge of a nervous breakdown. You see the depths to which she’s fallen. 

A seven-minute scene right after lift-off could show the heights from which she fell. This hypothetical Molly would be upbeat and optimistic. She’d have her act together. She’d answer Earth’s inane and insulting questions with wit and grace. But you never see that side of her. Molly’s a bundle of raw nerves throughout the play.

Even so, all of Molly’s screw-ups involve her humiliating PR and marketing stunts. These shameless promos have nothing to do with her flight to Mars — aside from helping to pay for it. When it comes to her actual mission, Molly unfailingly shows grace under pressure.

“Spaceman” realistically evokes the heroism of space travel without sentimentality. Stevens’ script is grounded in hard science — and takes a hard look at what a solo voyage to Mars would be like. That mystery trip is well worth taking.

Buckle up, gentle readers. You’re in for a wild ride.