Thorton Wilder’s Pulitizer Prize winning The Skin of Our Teeth currently in revival at Lincoln Center’s Viviane Beaumont, presents the fate of the human race in three segments when the human family represented by the Antrobuses (Greek for man or human) faces extinction. The first debacle is the ice age; the second is the great deluge; the third is a seven years war. The play leaves off in uncertainty for surely humanity will continue to face threats of extermination and will continue to shake these off, repair itself and scientifically progress to greater heights and lower depths in its struggle to survive as a species. Though Wilder leaves this conclusion uncertain through the character of Sabina (Gabby Beans), the very fact that the characters make it as far as they do is a witness to human resilience and tenacity.
The production, one of spectacle and moment, whimsy and humor is acutely directed by Lileana Blain-Cruz for maximum effect. It succeeds in various instances, to be poignant and profound as the Antrobus family (James Vincent Meredith-Dad, Roslyn Ruff-Mom, Julian Robertson-Henry, Paige Gilbert -Gladys) and their maid Sabina (Gabby Beans), one of the narrators who breaks the fourth wall to address the audience, claw their way through history to survive. These “every men” and “every women” archetypes experience representative cataclysms, all the while confronting the questions about the human race and their place in history until the end of time.
Though Wilder references Bible figures like Cain, suggests Adam, Eve and Lilith (Lily Sabina) and the disasters that have foundations in tribal religious mythology (the great flood myth is recorded in most indigenous cultures), other cataclysms are scientifically and historically referenced (the ice age, dinosaur extinction, seven year’s war between England and France). Wilder is intentionally out of chronological order, suggestive, melding various historical/cultural documents of literature and religion with scientific discovery. Throughout, the vital thread is humanity’s survival.
The questions the characters raise which float throughout each act are philosophical and moral. For example is the human race worth saving from the struggles, trials and horrors which will continue to threaten both people and their environment? Should humanity just throw in the towel, lay down and refuse to repair itself or evolve technologically, artistically, scientifically? Given the rapacity and murderous ruthlessness of son Henry (aka the Biblical Cain, the spirit of murder in humanity), will the human race just exterminate itself with weapons of its own making? Or as humanity’s mother, Mrs. Antrobus suggests, will the family unit sustain the human species, enabling it to succeed in each progressive and evolving era?
Given the latest foray into extinction by Vladimir Putin as he attempts to obliterate Ukraine into the dust bin of history, bully democratic countries to heel to his genocide, and bribe apologist lackeys in the extreme global radical right, including the QAnon Republican Party, Wilder’s overriding questions are current. This is especially so in the last segment when Mrs. Antrobus and daughter Gladys emerge from the basement where they’ve been sheltering for a seven years war to reunite with Sabina (Gabby Beans) and welcome the new peace. However, they consider how they will rebuild as they view the burned wreckage of their bombed out home.
As the curtain of the last act rises on the devastation, one can’t help think of Ukrainian towns (the Russian soldiers have since left), and Mariupol, where Ukrainian families and soldiers shelter in basements and in a steel factory, as they suffer Putin’ inhumane starvation, while bombs blast above, uselessly pulverizing dust. The irony is so beyond the pale; Putin bombs dust in helpless fury while every minute the heroism, bravery and resilience of Ukraine’s “Antrobus” spirit thrusts into the heavens forever memorializing that Ukraine will never capitulate to the likes of Putin. It is a forever humiliation of Russia for allowing such a cretin serial killer to usurp power, genocide women and children and bomb dust because the Ukrainians embody the slogan, “live free or die,” and refuse to bow to one man rule and an abdication of their human rights to Putin.
Electing to die honorable Roman deaths, rather than submit to Putin’s vengeful, psychotic temper tantrums, they shame those officials who pretend to uphold democracy but, like Putin, vitiate human rights with lies. Uncannily, what’s happening in Mariupol dovetails with Wilder’s prescient theme, that the human race will never capitulate to fires, floods, and its own murderous instincts.
Though Sabina grouses that she’s sick and tired of being sick and tired as she begins the first lines at the top of the play again, the wheel of irrevocable change and life goes around once more with new things for humanity to learn in a new way that is never a repetition of the past. However, Sabina doesn’t see that human history is a spiral and not a circle. She is blind to the human experiment, which Wilder suggests we must understand beyond her limited vision.
Indeed, no human being desires going into survival mode. But cataclysm squeezes out benefit from humanity’s collective soul during great trials. Wilder suggests it is worth the price. Human tenacity and hope propel the human race to make it to the next day evolving its wisdom, strength and efficacy. Wilder suggests, this is confirmed again and again and again with each debacle, each disaster, each cataclysm, each deranged maniac that would make war on his brothers and himself.
Some scenes in this enlightened production are particularly adorable. The representative sentient beings of the ice age, the dinosaur and mammoth are the most lovable pets thanks to the brilliant puppeteers (Jeremy Gallardo, Beau Thom, Alphonso Walker Jr., Sarin Monae West).
Unfortunately, Antrobus (James Vincent Meredith) tells the dinosaur and mammoth to leave the warmth of their Jersey home so he has room to take in refugees like prophet Moses, the ancient Greek poet Homer and the three Muses: Melete, “Practice,” Mneme, “Memory” and Aoide, “Song,” who would otherwise freeze to death. The dinosaur’s and mammoth’s expulsion is heartbreaking; the ice age destroys their kind. However, Wilder ties their extinction to necessity. Humanity gave up some unique, particular species and from that arose incalculable value. In this instance the preservation includes the foundation of human laws of civilization, timeless poetry and the spirits who inspire art to soothe the collective human soul and inspire its hope and creativity.
The sounds of the ice shelf moving, the projection of the towers of ice and the smashing of the home are particularly compelling, as the Antrobus family and their maid and sometime object of Mr. Antrobus’ affections escape, “by the skin of their teeth.” Likewise the sounding of the alarm of the impending storming deluge is scarily effected with a huge crane-like device.
Wilder’s zany, human account has the same setting of bucolic New Jersey throughout. In Act II it’s still New Jersey, but it’s the wild equivalent of sin city in Atlantic City and the boardwalk that has a carnival atmosphere with a lovely gypsy fortune teller (Priscilla Lopez) who warns Antrobus that she can tell him his future, but his past is lost and incomprehensible. It is an interesting notion because one then thinks of the adjuration, “those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.” However, this doesn’t quite follow for the Antrobus family who are forward moving in progress.
The Fortune Teller predicts the great deluge. Terrifying warning sounds rendered by a huge mechanism register the wind velocity and impending storm ferocity. Warnings are all ignored by the tourists and those who enjoy the fun, dancing, drugging and alluring lights of the Atlantic City boardwalk. As doom approaches, they party. Of course the Antrobus family flees to a boat after pursuing their natures (Henry has killed someone else). Sabina follows them, a veritable member of the family in her seductions of Antrobus manifested in Act II, hinted at in Act I.
A powerful scene in Act III occurs after the war is over and the Antrobuses convene at what’s left of their Jersey home. Henry confronts his father, for he is the enemy and Antrobus senior threatens to kill him. Of all the characters, the murderous Henry is the most useless. The daughter is the golden child as was the child they no longer speak of, the beautiful, gifted Abel who Henry resentfully killed. But in Act III, after Henry expresses his feelings of isolation, loneliness and desolation being insulted and demeaned by his father, there is a breakthrough and resolution which is heartening. The scene beautifully rendered by Julian Robertson who is in his element as the enraged and hurt son and James Vincent Meredith as the father, suggests hope and love are possible through communication.
Director Lileana-Blain Cruz shepherds her fine, spot-on cast with aplomb to performances that never appear off focus or muted for Wilder’s unique characterizations.
The fun of this production also is in the set design, aptly configured by Adam Rigg, effervescent and vibrant in the first two acts, symbolic and moving in Act III. The colorful costumes by Montana Levi reveal the time periods Act I suburban housewife and family and children happy-go-lucky flowery, and the appropriate fur coat and appropriate wear for Homer, Moses and the others. Act II the 1920s flapper style and for the men the orange pin stripes typically emotive for officials of the Convention for Mammals. The lovely Fortune Teller outfit is glamorous, as she is like a Hollywood celebrity and Sabina is the seductress in shimmering red. Act IIIs the outfits and back to the housewife/mother and maid look similiar to Act I are all exacting.
With Blanco, Yi Zhao’s accompanying lighting, Palmer Hefferan’s sound design and the integrated projections by Hannah Wasileski, the artistic technical team provides the canvas which sets off the events and the performances making them more striking. Even more fun are the expert puppeteers who made me fall in love with the animals and shed a tear at their demise. I am calling out these individuals again, BRAVO to Jeremy Gallardo, Beau Thom, Alphonso Walker Jr., Sarin Monae West.
I’ve said enough. Go see it. For tickets and times go to their website: https://www.lct.org/shows/skin-our-teeth/
In Anatomy of a Suicide written by Alice Birch directed by Lileana Blain-Cruz, the playwright examines suicide’s ancestral relativities between and among mothers and daughters. Underlying the developmental arc and structure of her complex play, Birch examines many questions. Two which appear to pertain the most directly are the following. What is the likelihood that a mother’s depressive, suicidal personality may be inherited as part of the familial DNA passed down through generations? If a mother commits suicide, what is the likelihood that her daughter will be unable to overcome the death impulse to follow her mother’s example, unconsciously nurtured by her mother to that end?
Currently running at Atlantic Theater Company’s Linda Gross Theater, Birch’s Anatomy of a Suicide won the Susan Smith Blackburn Prize in 2018. Indeed, her approach to the topic is structurally unique and worthy of the tremendous efforts of the cast and director to reveal the mysterious bond between mothers and daughters that moves them in the direction of soul immolation.
Birch displays three generations of mothers and daughters: Carol (Carla Gugino) her daughter Anna (Celeste Arias) and Anna’s daughter Bonnie (Gabby Beans) on stage concurrently in real time. She unwinds their characters until they reach their apotheosis. They exist in different decades in the 20th and 21st century but appear before us in the present. Each mother anticipates the depressive ethos of her daughter in some of her interactions with others: spouse, friend, family.
Birch sets these three components of the depressive state in each character on stage simultaneously with their ancestral counterparts by defying the space/time continuum. As each character depicts her own manifestations of her condition, sometimes the dialogue overlaps repetitively as if a time warp occurs and you are allowed to see how the mother has impacted the daughter in the future (i.e. how Carol impacted Anna). Usually, Birch features a key vignette with one character while the other two draw inward. For example while Anna has a scene with a doctor, Carol is occupied in an action, i.e. cutting apples, smoking, etc. and Bonnie is involved in her own action. When their dialogue overlaps and there is a synchronicity of time and space, a still point of connection occurs.
Birch uses this structure of simultaneity, rhythmic dialogue, repetition and overlap to stimulate the audience’s dissection and analysis of the characters. Perhaps it is to understand how suicidal depression in the case of this family leaps genetically (?) telepathically (?) from mother to daughter without knowing the etiology of each woman and specifically how or if such a transmission occurs. Birch depicts Carol’s, Anna’s and Bonnie’s depressive, addictive and emotional isolation in events unique to each and not in chronological order, but always simultaneously. However, though we see the symptoms and reactions which are the tip of the iceberg, we never know the rationale why these women are suicidal because it is unknowable. It is unconscious. Thantos, the death impulse exists in each of us, as does eros, the life impulse. Why does one overcome the other in these women is not what concerns Birch. That it is there in this family group is enough to investigate and atomize.
For Carol and Anna the suicidal impulse is acute at the outset of the play. Carol’s husband John (Richard Topol) confronts her about her bandaged/sliced wrists and her thoughtful accommodation for him to have enough dinners for a week or so, which she has cooked and frozen for him to thaw out after her death. Such premeditation is crystal clear; she has thought about what she will do and planned for it, yet she tells John everything is “fine.” Later in her segments the evidence mounts and we understand why “it is fine.”
For his part, John confronts her with great passivity, an element of her depressive state she perhaps wishes to conclude with finality. Divorce would not be final enough, we learn in a subsequent later vignette that is companionable to a simultaneous event with Anna and Bonnie. Nevertheless, John is frightened, yet incompetent to handle her. Through various scenes he cannot read her or cogently, effectively deal with her flattened affect that hides the dark abyss within. Carol’s various scenes unfold tied not to a time order but to a thematic familial order with her daughter Anna and Granddaughter Bonnie who demonstrate their own angst: Anna in her relationship with her spouse Jamie (Julian Elijah Martinez) and Bonnie in her interest and relationship with Jo (Jo Mei ).
A telling event occurs during Carol’s pregnancy and after baby Anna is born. We and John understand that she will never have another child; sex is not pleasurable and she is only staying in the marriage to raise their daughter. Each vignette reinforces Carol’s intense emotional interior trauma that Carla Gugino’s brilliantly flickers to the surface through the character’s strained, straight-lipped smile, wooden responses and modulated, refined voice.
What happened to her, to Anna, to Bonnie? Why are they depressed? Does the historical cause matter if it is genetic, a brain disorder or some other causation that is beyond the kin of the medical profession? Interventions are tried to no avail: shock therapy, perhaps rehab for Anna for her drug addiction. Nothing works. No human interaction satisfies to stem the death impulse.
We realize Carol is fine when she succeeds in achieving her goal in life. By the end of her scenes (she is staged on the far left as the progenitor mother of depression in the 20th century) we come to understand why Carol responds as she does to John that she is “fine.” Her mind is made up. She has planned and most probably will continue to plan and justify her suicide to herself because her pain is relentless, without limit, infinite as long as she is in her body. Thus, when we finally learn that she has killed herself, it is anti-climactic. The same is not true for Anna who, in her vignettes, gyrates between anxiety and calm, hyperactivity and peace with husband Jamie.
Regardless, Birch blindsides us and Carol’s and Anna’s spouses with their suicides to end the roiling hell within. For Carol we know it is coming, yet when we hear of it surprisingly tucked into a conversation, we remember her memorial to herself, “I’m fine.” Anna’s suicide is as Anna is, dramatic.
At the outset of the play when Carol and John have their discussion about Carol’s suicide attempt and she affirms she’s “fine,” Celeste discusses with a doctor friend (Vince Nappo) the necessity for an injection in a frenetic insistence to charm him. The doctor knows what she wants and ignores her despite her lightening responses and “hail good fellow well met” justification for it. Her heightened state, during which she discounts how she broke her arm, is like an episode of rapid recycling in a bi-polar disorder patient. In their synchronized scenes, obviously, both women display warning signs that they are ripe for suicide, but in their own personalities and iterations which are antithetical.
Perhaps, Birch posits one clue for Carol’s and Anna’s dark intentions and eliminates it for Bonnie. Carol’s and Anna’s intolerable misery is exacerbated when they become pregnant and have their daughters. Does this symbolize the end of their lives? Indeed, Celeste’s nihilism appears even greater than Carol’s and her commitment to killing herself happens in hyperbole part of the up/down of her life that Birch reveals is her nature. On the other hand Bonnie solves the problem of mother/ daughter suicidal ideation carried to her through an inherited gene pool. A doctor, Bonnie makes a canny choice about relationships and doesn’t put herself in the position of her grandmother and mother. But perhaps she is her father’s daughter, not her mother’s. Again the etiology is never clarified, not that it should be.
The play intrigues with the everpresent present of three women in the same family reflecting how they respond to the unchanging underlying death impulse as it manifests with synchronicity in Carol, Anna and Bonnie over time, yet also with different and particular iterations based upon each individual woman. Staged simultaneously across three time periods, we think we can understand the suicidal threads in these characters and especially that Bonnie doesn’t physically move a hand against herself.
At times refocusing which vignette to watch to break through the overlapping dialogue was challenging. However, the uniform superb acting drew out the sequences appropriately and the pacing of the dialogue was letter perfect so that the key lines to be repeated resonated with rhythmic precision.
The set whose three walls are painted a green-blue color and beset with complementary plants appears vibrant on first inspection. However, the wash basin in Carol’s space which looks like those in a doctor’s office with the high curving faucet, and a bathtub with similar faucet in Anna’s space convert the set toward the clinical and sterile. This is so despite the ensemble bringing in tables to suggest dinners with friends and other activities.
The set puts one on notice that this will not be a typical play about suicide with its recumbent, empathetic emotionalism. This will be as unique as the title implies and a detached, observational approach will be employed. Indeed, as we follow Birch’s presentation and the director’s shepherding of a truly superb cast, we become like scientists viewing, as if under glass familial fault-lines that break the family. It is an empty exercise and we are no closer to understanding another element of a mysterious anti-life position of human beings: the urge, necessity, the repeated will in some families, in this play mothers and daughters, to end their lives.
By the end of the play, we remain detached. Such detachment about the most violent act one can take against oneself is frightening. But the play encourages objectification for a reason. Objectification in our culture contributes to feelings of isolation. Being or feeling “the other,” not belonging, not communicating in a felt empathetic way to bridge one’s “aloneness” in pain are states of misery. Yet, for these mothers to put their daughters in that state indicates they were hopeless. It is the height of objectification, not having empathy for oneself to live to the next day. Birch’s work enlightens and devastates.
Noted are Mariana Sanchez (sets) Kaye Voyce (costumes) Jiyoun Chang (lights) Rucyl Frison (sound) Hannah Wasileski (projetions) Tommy Kurzman (wig, hair & makeup).
Anatomy of a Suicide runs at the Atlantic Theater Company (336 West 20th) with no intermission until 15th March. For tickets and times CLICK HERE.
First, Lynn Nottage is a master story teller. Secondly, she is a master playwright, an avid spinner of profound characterizations and themes. With an antic zeal for weaving humor throughout organic dialogue that establishes her unique characters, Nottage continually lays bare the most exasperating and trenchant aspects of the human condition. If one is color blind, which Nottage mightily encourages, you see yourself in the arc of her characters’ inevitable development. For growth is the sum total of where we all are going, is it not?
FABULATION, OR THE RE-EDUCATION OF UNDINE, wonderfully directed by Lileana Blain-Cruz, is typical Nottage in its maverick brilliance and marvelous exploration of the complexities of black culture and identity. Essentially, with sardonic humor and LOL comedic fun, Nottage spirals out the larger-than life evolution, devolution and reaffirmation of the fabulous Undine. This hybrid genre two-act play (satire, “narrative of the life,” comedy-with threads of the macabre fantastic) strikes with irony and hyperbolic authenticity, turning every stereotype on its head to arrive at a satisfying resolution.
Currently at The Pershing Square Signature Center, the production is a must-see for its LMAO wit and profound revelations about class and culture. And tucked carefully away between the guffaws and belly laughs is this universal wisdom. When pursuing wealth and status, sidestep the alluring predations and pitfalls by remaining real. One way or another during your life’s journey, you’re going to get to the end of yourself. So you might as well avoid all the heartache and space shuttle gyrations and keep it soul local! Hyper money and status don’t bring truth unless you pivot, plummet and fall. When you reach bottom, if you’re still alive, you “get it,” and will then appreciate what you’ve learned.
Importantly, in FABULATION, OR THE-RE-EDUCATION OF UNDINE, Nottage’s protagonist bounces off the most reprehensible and meretricious elements of the nouveau riche who “seduce” the black bourgeoisie into internalizing their corrupted values. Chief among these include the canard that money and celebrity bring personal power and satisfaction. Undine comes across this truth through a divergent, fantastic, incredulous sequence of events that can only be likened to divine comedy. As we follow her on the ride, if our eyes are open, our mouths eventually breathe out a sigh of relief for it will be well for her. But at various twists and egregious turns downward, we believe Undine to be heading to hell with no one to pull her back except Nottage’s deft story telling.
At the outset of the play, we identify an apparently successful Undine. Portrayed with a piquant and vibrant drama queen personality, Cherise Boothe continually astonishes with engaging humor and likability. Her Undine hits all the emotional high notes of comedy with a range of authenticity that keeps the audience laughing. Yet intriguingly we are aware of the seriousness of her wise commentary beneath all of the humorous riot.
From her demeanor and treatment of underlings, we note that Undine’s rabid and rapacious ambition and power has steered her to the top of her game. We discover she owns and manages a PR firm catering to the needs of the black bourgeoisie. Humorously, we learn this after her accountant and an FBI agent inform her she’s “got some issues to deal with.” Ironically, her success and the lifestyle it precipitates ends up placing her in a situation that she is ill equipped to handle. This noxious situation moves in the form of Hervé (the smooth Ian Lassiter), a slick Argentinian whose fabulous tango moves, hot kisses and an ingenious sleight of hand where her bank account is concerned sweep her up into a two-year marriage. When Hervé absconds with her money and life’s work, this ending initiates Undine’s journey and the dynamic momentum of the play.
Shepherded by the adept directing skills of Blain-Cruz, we watch Undine who Nottage moves from the interaction of this opening scene to an Undine “confidential. Upon the arrival of Agent Duva, Undine breaks the fourth wall and elicits our confidence to explain how she became “Undine.” Eschewing her Brooklyn ways, Undine confabulated herself. Undine is her new identity which she created when she bravely struck out on her own, as many of her race did before she moved “up from slavery.”
Of course since the play takes place in the present, this metaphor of identity and race improvement stretches to a wonderful and sardonic breadth and length that only Nottage can evoke with clever dialogue and allusions. It seems Undine at thirteen left home on scholarship and morphed herself by attending an Ivy League school. Transformed into a player, Undine internalized upper crust values and negotiated/networked with the upper classes to become an entrepreneur. She achieved success externally.
However, Undine has not done the work internally. And it is this which snares her in the Hervé trap and sets her on a downward momentum externally and inner enlightenment. As life/fate/consciousness would have it, this all begins when Undine comes to a pivot with a mild physical breakdown at the critical moment. The FBI agent tells her Undine shows up on no records; they cannot find out who Undine is. (The irony is wonderful.)
With us as her confidantes, Undine shepherds us through her story that evolves with flashback scenes. From hospital to moving out of her office, the scenes quickly pace as Undine steps from the realm of the fantastic Undine “fabulation” closer to the authenticity of self. Ironically, the fantastic follows her and apparently is an integral part of who she is. She seeks a Yoruba priest who tells her she must placate the spirits who are angry with her. To ameliorate their ire it will take a bottle of rum and the last of Undine’s money. The priest informs her there is something she must do to straighten out her life. Of course it is the last thing Undine wants to hear. As if that weren’t extraordinary enough, Undine’s journey takes her to additional and amazing adventures in the “real.”
Nottage shifts the dynamism alternating the action between Undine’s ironic story telling breaks to flashbacks of illustrative scenes relating her journey back to the fantastic real of Brooklyn. The director beautifully shepherds this ebb and flow and maintains the pace of comedy. We connect with Undine’s ironic comments and eagerly follow the rhythms of development in Undine’s “re-education” to discover who she is. For extreme fun, as fate and the spirits would have it, Undine is forced to confront every situation of Brooklyn street life she attempted to avoid when she ran away to her Ivy League education and “Undine” identity and lifestyle. Nottage’s sardonic situational humor is precious.
FABULATION, OR THE RE-EDUCATION OF UNDINE is just great for its comedy, complexity, questions about identity and culture, examination of issues about growth, and themes which all of us can take to heart. The superb ensemble who portray various roles in conveying Undine’s journey include Mayaa Boateng, Dashiell Eaves, Heather Alicia Simms, Ian Lassiter, Nikiya Mathis, J. Bernard Calloway, Marcus Callender.
The director deserves much credit with the actors for breathing life into this enjoyable and shimmering comedy. The staging is excellent, the pacing never drops the humor. Look for the little stereotypic bits which I dare not reveal for fear of spoiling the surprises.
Final kudos go to Adam Rigg (Scenic Design), Montana Levi Blanco (Costume Design), Yi Zhao (Lighting Design), Palmer Hefferan (Sound Design), Cookie Jordan (Hair and Wig Design).