By Alisha Hagey
I left the theatre sobbing. There I was walking out, a complete wreck, and for a long while, I wasn’t even sure why. In Salt Lake City, Utah, nestled under the looming gaze of the State Capitol Building, is the haven of Salt Lake Acting Company. Reading what playwright Elaine Jarvik posited about Four Women Talking About the Man Under the Sheet gave me great pause: “What compromises should you make in pursuit of a cause?” This show, this beautiful, funny, heartbreaking 90-minute glimpse into the past, into our genuine present, and our foggy and uncertain future, left me shattered. As this reviewer sits to write, emotion overcomes me. I don’t mean to make this piece all about me, but shouldn’t art be personal in so many ways? Shouldn’t it shake our foundation and urge us to learn and grow and become something more? Jarvik does this masterfully.
Please forgive my exploration and self-indulgence but let me attempt to explain.
My whole life, I have felt divided into two categories. One was white culture, and the other was my ethnic background. A white family adopted me. I was darker (I am North African in descent). Because my parents were white, I saw my privilege in my Californian suburb. But when my parents weren’t around to shield me, I received racial slurs. Never accepted into one group or another, I felt isolated: marginalized like many of us do. In my youth, my friends and I knew that we could rock the boat while our skin was one color, but not so much to cause a stir.
This is at the crux of this immensely moving piece of theatre. How do you rock the boat to achieve necessary change but not rock it so much that you alienate all those around you? How do you fight for change without stepping on the backs of the men and women who came before and will come after you? How do you live with yourself when you have to take sides, take a stance, and make a choice?
Just. So. Many. Questions. And no easy answers.
Brilliance came across the stage tonight as we, the audience, are transported into the morning of February 21, 1895, the day after Frederick Douglass died. We experience these women’s conversations: the second wife of Douglass, Susan B. Anthony, Douglass’s daughter from his first marriage, Rosetta, and the always controversial Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Amid this exploration of what that day might have been like, a new character breaks the bounds of the fourth wall. She gives us a play within a play: a lens into history and the current movement of feminism and equality. The show straddles three ideals all at once; the historical characters, the rehearsal experience, and the very embodiment of the characters they are playing layered on the actors as they act as themselves (going so far as to remove corsets during a break). Layering like this is tricky, so challenging to manage, and yet the fluidity was sheer perfection. The beats were never lost, never dropped. I am spellbound.
History is written by those who win, those in power, those who succeed. My understanding of Susan B. Anthony was always with rose-colored glasses until I was older and started questioning and reading more from a wider variety of historians. Colleen Baum (Susan) is marvelous. She explores and pivots the pitfalls of flawed humanity while straddling such a giant’s pedestal and pedagogy. The almost reverential treatment historical figures are given causes this disconnect when we put them in perspective of the wider world (and hindsight, of course). Baum is a genius and so very human. You love her, you hate her, you want to scream at every history book that we learn from to have an honest look at how Anthony really brought about the marvel that is the women’s vote. How do you tackle a giant and yet make her so personable and loveable? Baum does this over and over again. She takes your breath away at the effortless gestures, eye rolls, and disparate hand motions that show how she, as an actress who plays an actress, feels at having to deliver racial intolerance.
Susanna Florence (Helen) is a masterclass in what Helen might have been and who Helen is today. I have grappled for years as to what ‘feminism’ means. Why? Because it means something different to each of us. We each have our own ways of discovering it (regardless of gender). Florence is so relatable. Was she a suffragette? According to the Anthony of this play, no. But in terms of modern days, my goodness was she a trailblazer. And yet, while all the other characters took off the trappings and restrictions of the 1800s, Florence keeps it on. However, I ask whether the costume works as a shield for the character and, therefore, for the actress to use. My goodness, the layering in this show is just marvelous.
Tamara Howell (Mrs. Stanton) embodies everyone’s favorite and least favorite maiden aunt. She is brash, bold, and very very flawed. Howell plays the comedy of the character so well. She flits in and out of the set whenever Anthony finds herself alone (almost like an inner monologue that Anthony is having, an inner justification). Howell has this modern take on Jacob Marley, finding the spotlight. The difference being, she doesn’t usher in positive change but radical (and often) selfish thought. So when Howell takes off the wig and reveals this wonderfully raucous haircut (Spencer Potter [costume designer] thank you for this fantastic reveal), we are again layering more about Mrs. Stanton as a historical figure. Howell is funny and wise-cracking. She talks about the 2020 election results, almost like someone listening to a ball game while sitting in church.
How do you tackle the weight and gravity of a family grieving, hurt, and divided? Yolanda Stange (Rosetta) does this with great feeling. Rosetta, written to be somewhat one-sided, is gut-wrenching. How can we not feel for her? How can we not understand her anger? And then Stange breaks the fourth wall, and her character within a character begins to fight against the stigma. She essentially says, “why is my character just angry?” Fair question. Can’t she be angry, grieving, searching, and still fighting for civil rights and liberties? Can’t she be all these things? The pain Stange gives us is just so personal. There is a moment where the women mention the Bechdel test. Then Stange says, what about the DuVernay Test? I had never heard of this. To sum up, it is this:
A character of any minority must have fully realized lives with their own desires, rather than serving as background characters for white plotlines.
My mind is blown because Rosetta is initially given to us as window dressing, as another layer of conflict in an already tense situation. I don’t know how Stange manages this; how she created pain and anguish that felt of a historical period and of right now. Also, Stange simultaneously creates the agony and suffering of abolitionists from times past and civil rights marches from the not-so-distant history. She embodies the same struggle, same racism, same restrictions, and subjugation of the now. Stange is nothing short of a revelation.
And now to our one non-historical character: Latoya Cameron (Zoe). Cameron is the director of this play within a play. She is a woman of color leading the theatre as a newly appointed artistic director, fighting to rock the boat, but not too much. How can she tell the story with as much historical honesty as we so desperately need without upsetting the donors? Cameron, thank you. Thank you for delivering what is and what feels like our everyday march. Her powerful closing lines were what finally tipped me over. The raw emotion so lovingly and sincerely delivered lingers within me and resonates deep.
Then there is the very nuanced sound design. Emily Chung (sound designer) gives us this faint and not-quite-rhythmic ticking of a clock – as if a grandfather clock is in the study, just off stage. It’s offbeat and off-center and barely audible. This inspired choice gives a topsy-turvy aspect to what these women are tackling (gravitas with just a hint of humor). And the use of Scott Bradlee’s Postmodern Jukebox playlist before and after the show of powerful songs about women by women is just the chef’s kiss. Again, that ticking clock, that pressure that historical figures must have felt when weighing friendship against that question of what is worth it? What is pushing the agenda too far? How do you know if you’ve made the right choice? Chung so softly underlines yet another layer and subtext of the plot.
Jason Bowcutt and Martine Kei Green-Rogers (Co-Directors) navigate these waters with such fluidity. I have seen many SLAC plays over the years (I am a devoted fan of the company). I can say with confidence: this is my favorite show. The incredible collaboration it must have taken to mount this production. To have it pulled not once but three times (due to Covid) before finally coming to us today must have felt, at times, overwhelming. Bowcutt and Green-Rogers give us this gift. They don’t make decisions for us. They don’t clean up the messy history. They don’t justify the means. They just lay it out for us, the whole dirty laundry, and let us stew on that for a minute (or a long while).
I am running out of space, but please note that Justin Ivie (Scenic and Prop Design) and cade beck (Lighting Design) give us this beautifully nuanced layering that just enhances everything, raises the stakes, and provides so much contextuality and color.
I rarely leave a theatre having felt seen. It is also rare that I leave a play and feel the desire to write an entire thesis on the subject (although, if you have made it to the end of this, you likely feel like you have been reading such a tome). To say that this production profoundly touched me would be an understatement. To not acknowledge so many individuals’ hard work and dedication (past and present) would be wrong. I am grateful, humbled, to have been in the audience tonight. Thank you. Thank you so much for this moving portrayal of what it means to be human (warts and all). And please, please go and see this absolute gem of a show. I know I’ll be back. And maybe, when we can honestly look at ourselves and our past, we can look outside of ourselves and show more love.
IMPORTANT INFORMATION TO KNOW:
-All attendees must show proof of full vaccination upon arrival. Once inside, face masks are also required, except for when hydrating.
-Food is not permitted in the theatre
-This show contains strong language
Salt Lake Acting Company Presents Four Women Talking About the Man Under the Sheet by Elaine JarvikSalt Lake Acting Company – 168 West 500 North, Salt Lake City, Utah, 84103
In Person: September 30 – October 31, 2021
Ticket Cost: $30-44
A digital production will stream from October 17-31
Box Office Phone: 801.363.7522
Box Office Email: info@saltlakeactingcompany.org
Open 11am – 5pm, Mon – Fri
www.saltlakeactingcompany.org
SLAC Website
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