By Tina Hawley
Walking into the theater-in-the-round setup of An Other Theater Company’s production of The Moors in Provo, Utah feels like walking into a haunted house. Dim lighting shows worn felt church pews, set furniture covered in white cloth, and walls draped in foggy gauze, while wind whistles hollowly through the speakers. The mural of the dismal moors covering an entire wall (painted by Lyndee Baumann) is impressively subtle yet benefits from closer inspection. Indeed the entire set becomes more and more significant with each scene, tiny details coming to your attention as the play unfolds. In short, set and props designer Taylor Jack Nelson, lighting designer Ryan Hopkins, and sound designer Liz Whittaker are to be commended.
Written by Jen Silverman and directed by Angela Nibley, The Moors is a darkly funny, thought-provoking story that is rather difficult to describe. The script itself is vague, setting itself in “the 1800s . . . ish, on the bleak moors of . . . England? This is a story about the present.” The play opens in a house on the moors, with sisters Agatha (Bryn Curry) and Huldey (Maddie Smith) awaiting the arrival of the new governess (Chelsea Hickman). The maid (Viviane Turman), sometimes named Marjory and sometimes Mallory, bustles about, and the Mastiff (Bryce Lloyd Fueston) lies mournfully on the hearth because Agatha shouts at him when he gets up. The theater-in-the-round setup means that the actors range freely around the entire room and face different parts of the audience at different times. This keeps the action dynamic, but sometimes it was frustrating not being able to see an actor’s face during an important scene.
Agatha is the mistress of the house, ruling with an iron hand, and the unsettling atmosphere that pervades most of the play is due mostly to Curry’s almost inhuman portrayal of the elder sister. Her stiff, expressionless mannerisms feel like they come from a statue, making the one scene where she breaks from that mold all the more striking.
Smith as Huldey is juvenile, energetic, and painfully in need of attention and affection from someone—anyone. At first I thought the younger sister actually was a child, though Smith is an adult, which was a little confusing. However, it quickly becomes obvious that she has a child’s mind in an adult’s body. Like most elements of this play, Huldey’s antics are initially amusing, yet her childish self-centeredness becomes more and more unsettling as it gains increasing control over her actions.
The governess Emilie is the straight man of the play, at least at first. Hickman conveys her frustration at the ridiculous and illogical nature of the house and its inhabitants with relatable energy. Her slow assimilation into the house’s toxic atmosphere is chillingly natural in its progression. The nature of the story demands I not spoil plot twists, but Hickman’s performance in the last few scenes is remarkable.
As the cranky, unappreciated maid(s), Turman has an interesting challenge in playing two characters that might be separate individuals and might be the same, a combination that is played for laughs and drama. Initially, Turman gives Mallory and Marjory their own mannerisms to aid the one change to her costume that differentiates between the two. These variations lessen, then vanish, as the story blurs the line between them.
The Mastiff and the Moor Hen (Laura Elise Chapman) provide some much-needed comic relief between heavier scenes. Fueston and Chapman have good chemistry, and their banter about happiness, depression, and flying is entertaining and thought provoking. Chapman’s croaking voice and birdlike movements in particular had me grinning the minute she first appeared.
The flexible nature of time—integral to the plot—is evident in Ash Knowles’s interpretive costume design, as the actors wear a mix of period costume pieces over leggings and long-sleeved shirts. The Mastiff and the Moor Hen dress like humans with a few animalistic touches to their makeup and hair design. There are several in-world songs in this play, which the actors perform well, accompanied by music (arranged by Liz Whitaker and Matt Oviatt) that jumps time periods and emotions in a way that left me perpetually off balance, a reaction the play seems intent on provoking over and over.
The sign posted in the window of An Other Theater Company’s venue reads: “While we understand the need for family-friendly fare, we think there’s a need for entertainment and pieces of art that are created with adults in mind.” This production reflects that belief. The Moors is not a play for children, but adults will be struck by the questions it poses about love, identity, power, toxic relationships, and the human need to belong. If deep thinking and being a little creeped out while you laugh appeal to you, don’t miss The Moors.
Content warning for dark and disturbing themes and some violence. One scene contains a moderate amount of stage blood.
An Other Theater Company Presents The Moors, by Jen Silverman.
Provo Towne Center Mall, 1200 Towne Center Blvd, Suite 2008, Provo, Utah 84601
September 6 – 28, 2019, 7:30 PM
Get Tickets: $12-$15, tickets are $2 more when purchased at the door
An Other Theater Company Website
An Other Theater Company Facebook Page
The Moors Facebook Event
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