From an article in the Washington Post:

A Creative Approach To Handling Adversity
By Celia Wren

Crime without punishment -- can it be a sort of gift? Playwright
Jeanette L. Buck issues a qualified "yes" in the autobiographical "There
Are No Strangers," her articulate and surprisingly humorous account of
her recovery from a vicious assault in Venice Beach, Calif.

The play relays the gritty facts in unflinching detail: a face and
body so damaged they required multiple surgeries, and a life and career
placed on indefinite hold. And it confronts, with the same steadiness,
the police's failure to catch Buck's attacker.

But "There Are No Strangers" dwells more intently on the generosity
Buck encountered from friends and -- you guessed it -- strangers in
the attack's aftermath: the plastic surgeon who took on her case pro
bono; the chum who stored two shopping bags of "Get Well" cards in a
basement (which later flooded); the innumerable members of the D.C.
theater community who chipped in on her medical bills, since she had no
insurance.

What with the upbeat emphasis of these anecdotes and, most crucially,
the pitch-perfect interpretation of actress Holly Twyford, this
one-woman show -- first conceived as a private testament to Buck's
supporters -- clocks in as a successful specimen of the genre that
might be labeled "triumph-of-the-human-spirit chronicle."

Superbly relaxed, utterly intent, Twyford masterfully shifts tone and
momentum as the piece develops: draping herself calmly across an
armchair to recall up a bittersweet moment of healing, or staring
wild-eyed at nothing when conjuring up the sinister atmosphere of the
crime scene.

The elfin smiles the actress tosses off now and then, too, go a long
way toward supporting the play's optimistic message; her ability to
wring humor from potentially depressing material is a godsend. How many
performers can lie on a table and deliver a line like "I don't have
brain damage!" so that the statement is actually funny?

Twyford accentuates moments of zaniness, such as the bizarre attitude
of the California bankruptcy lawyer who waived a fee from the mauled and
still-oozing Buck, remarking, "I don't want this to be your experience
of L.A.!" But her matter-of-fact demeanor at other times helps steer
"There Are No Strangers" away from sentiment. The playwright intends,
obviously, to probe the psychological and spiritual ramifications of the
crime without resorting to the mentality of victimhood.

The monologue does broach sticky issues such as Buck's irrational sense
of guilt after the attack -- "the enormous weight of shame is an
18-wheeler parked on my breastbone," as one metaphor puts it -- but
the context tends more toward metaphysics than self-help-think. Why does
evil exist, the play asks us, and does the kindness of other people mean
that evil is, in fact, good in disguise?

Buck has an MFA in filmmaking from Ohio University. Her pursuit of a
career in the movies took her to California. Buck's first artistic
response to her attack consisted of filmed images and voice-over.
Possibly in tribute to this backstory, director Delia Taylor (who helped
develop the play with Buck, Twyford and Theater J Artistic Director Ari
Roth) has incorporated film sequences into the production, mostly shots
of Twyford's face and some sinister glimpses of a faceless male figure.
Artfully hazy and projected onto a huge screen at the back of what's
otherwise a low-key set -- a table, an overstuffed armchair, ragg
rugs, a spider plant in a wooden box -- the footage gives the show an
intermittently over-produced quality, an effect that Adrianna
Dougherty's pealing sound design (crying gulls, the sound of the ocean,
eerie sustained chords) exacerbates.

Given the virtuosity of Twyford's performance and the intimate,
confessional nature of Buck's script, these special effects feel
unnecessary.

"There Are No Strangers" traces a recovery that drew from Buck's own
inner strength and the sympathy of other people. Turning trauma into
theater has probably helped, but Hollywood didn't need to get involved.

There Are No Strangers, by Jeanette L. Buck.
Directed by Delia Taylor; sets and props, Caitlin Lainoff;
video projection, Michael Skinner; lighting, Lisa Ogonowski;
costumes, Kathleen Geldard.

Approximately 70 minutes. At the Goldman Theater, D.C. Jewish Community
Center, 1529 16th St. NW. Call 800-494-8497 or visit
www.boxofficetickets.com.