Michael Shannon always seems to be listening to a voice I cannot hear. I saw him in Bug, and he pretty much plays the same character in this play, though he comes way short of self-immolation this time. Still, as he tells us the story of the last part of his character's mother's life, we just keep straining to hear that voice inside his head.

Danny and his sister Justina have a mother, Therese Marie, who has been harboring secrets for so long they are now bubbling over and causing her to froth at the mind. While Danny was out West getting high, then getting clean, his mother wheeled herself out of her daughter's Manhattan apartment and was found unconscious somewhere near the Cloisters. When she comes to in the hospital, she doesn't speak and seems to have amnesia – until her son arrives. Danny is the object of his mother's affection, whether he likes it or not. In this case, he loves her, but doesn't like much of her behavior.

As set down by the playwright Stephen Adly Guirgis, Danny has only one gear and it is high. This is the unfortunate part of the story, for after an enticing introduction and tales of how Danny skated from one drug-laced adventure to another, he makes it back to New York and loses his storytelling skills. Upon arrival at his mother's bedside, Danny ascends directly and calmly into the stratosphere, where the language depends on as much use of the word "fuck" as can be tolerated. In this case, it is tolerated a lot, with the result that the language fences Shannon in, when the story is asking for the actor to be released.

Ellen Burstyn directly channels my mother and every mother who talks without listening to her children. She asks about Danny's love life, and when he demurs, she brings up his ex-wife and her fantasy of what the future might be. As Danny tries logic, pulls away, or changes the subject, Therese Marie goes blithely on, because she is emulating the Little Flower, Saint Therese. One kind act after another is what she is doing, by God, and no one who disagrees will be taken seriously.