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Dry Land by Ruby Rae Spiegel (performance review)

2018, Theatre Journal

Dry Land by Ruby Rae Spiegel (review) Carla Neuss Theatre Journal, Volume 70, Number 3, September 2018, pp. 399-401 (Review) Published by Johns Hopkins University Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/tj.2018.0068 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/706620 Access provided at 30 Apr 2019 18:21 GMT from UCLA Library PERFORMANCE REVIEWS prefers male pronouns and cereal, a hijra, and his judgmental though deeply concerned mother, anchored in tradition. Deen kept this large family of characters animated with shifting dialects and agile physicality; the instantaneous transitions, aided by subtle sound effects (Matthew Nielson) and simple projections, helped indicate character and locales from Connecticut and Massachusetts to Costa Rica and Bangalore, in multiple temporalities. The final act constituted a gritty striptease. Here, Deen finally “revealed” himself by taking off his shirt and inviting the audience’s gaze upon his muscular body. Disrupting the postsurgical spectacle and any sense of cathartic conclusion, Deen steadily gazed back at the audience—an image that connected back to the pinked-out Deen in childhood at the start of the show, except that now he is no longer cornered with societal expectations. Instead, his gaze and an accompanying cacophony of transgender media reports, along with projections that listed the names of murdered transgender people of color in the United States, cornered and implicated us in Deen’s larger circle. This is our issue. The list seemed never ending, continuing after Deen’s exit and bristling against any celebratory sense of transgender liberation. The script published by Dramatists Play Service explicitly invites other actors to perform the play, requiring a versatility to enact multiple characters and genders. While much of this production’s charm was in the performance power of Deen and the dissonance created between him playing characters talking about him, one wonders what future casting choices will do to this play, and in turn how that might push for further inclusivity of underrepresented trans performers. Seeking further to expand the circle, which brings everyone in, the author/performer notes: “I want more people to feel pulled in and fewer people to feel shut out. I hated being shut out—I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” Deen’s Draw the Circle transforms pain and exclusion into a passionate embodied plea for restoring affective bonds across a complex array of identitarian boundaries. / 399 Douglas Theatre was an image of blood streaming from between the legs of a groaning teenager as her friend quietly disposed of a newspaper-wrapped fetus. Beyond its initially familiar portrait of the challenges of teenage friendship, Dry Land staged what most performances tend to hide offstage by bringing abortion and the visceral reality of female embodiment into the realm of visual representation. Centering themes of girlhood, burgeoning sexuality, and teenage friendship, Dry Land’s plot unfolds within a high school girls’ locker room, where the girls on the swim team swap gossip and probe their own identities in the blithe and superficial jargon of adolescence. The production opened in medias res, with Amy (Teagan Rose) standing in her bathing suit commanding a punch to the stomach from a reluctant Ester (Connor Kelly-Eiding), indicating from the outset a clear power differential between the two girls. Throughout the play, Ester obeys Amy’s dictates, punching her, sitting on her stomach, and buying her laundry detergent to ingest, all in an effort to induce an abortion. Amy, physically mature and sexually experienced, occupies a coveted position within the high school social hierarchy; Ester, on the other hand, is an under-confident, socially isolated newcomer whose focus is on winning a swimming scholarship. In sharing the secret of her pregnancy with Ester, Amy enlists her as both witness and accomplice to her attempts at abortion, relying upon Ester’s social isolation to make her complicit. The characters’ distinct personalities and roles within the teenage social hierarchy provided the opportunities for cruelty, shaming, and bullying that characterize many high school narratives. However, the petty disagreements between the girls dissipated once Amy managed to take medical abortion drugs and Ester alone is present to act as midwife to the termination of the former’s pregnancy. CLAIRE PAMMENT College of William & Mary DRY LAND. By Ruby Rae Spiegel. Directed by Alana Dietze. Echo Theater Company, Kirk Douglas Theatre, Los Angeles. May 14, 2017. At the center of the performance of Ruby Rae Spiegel’s high-school drama presented at the Kirk Teagan Rose (Amy) and Connor Kelly-Eiding (Ester) in Dry Land. (Photo: Craig Schwartz.) 400 / Theatre Journal Daniel Hagen (Janitor), Connor Kelly-Eiding (Ester), and Teagan Rose (Amy) in Dry Land. (Photo: Craig Schwartz.) The Echo Theater Company’s production of Dry Land was awarded a slot in Center Theater Group’s (CTG’s) “Block Party,” a new scheme in which productions by three small Los Angeles theatre companies are recognized by a transfer to the Kirk Douglas Theater, CTG’s space for new work. The transfer to a new space maintained the strong aspects of Echo’s original run, particularly in its cast. The lead actresses, Teagan Rose (Amy) and Connor Kelly-Eiding (Ester), embodied their characters with particular strength. Rather than willowy, long-haired teenagers, Rose and Kelly-Eiding’s athletic forms and bobbed haircuts visually suggested the strength, both physical and emotional, demanded of the characters over the course of the play. Kelly-Eiding’s lanky frame imbued Ester with an androgyny that had particular resonance during a scene in which Amy publicly accused Ester of harboring queer desire for her. The accusation functions as a bullying tactic on Amy’s part, but it also served to blur the dichotomy between the platonic and the erotic within the play’s depiction of female friendship. While abortion is not a new topic for the American stage, Dry Land’s engagement with it through visual representation registered as unprecedented. Plays such as David Rabe’s In the Boom Boom Room and Brian Yorkey’s If / Then center on abortion without ever employing the word itself. Jane Martin’s Pulitzer Prize–nominated drama on the subject, Keely and Du, relegates the contested act itself to what occurs between the acts. Dry Land shifts this paradigm of nonrepresentation by showing a pharmacologically induced abortion in visceral detail. From the initial trickle of blood down Amy’s leg to her lying prone amid a pool of her own uterine lining and feces, Dry Land demands that its audience witness the hidden reality of women’s bodies that has often been absent from theatrical depictions of the same theme. In performance, Amy’s labor produced a material torrent of the bodily evidence of an aborted pregnancy, with the menstrual blood remaining onstage after the close of the scene. It was this blood that arrested the temporal trajectory of the play, marking the space with the remains of absent female bod- PERFORMANCE REVIEWS ies—the plot could not progress in time as long as the blood remained. Thus the scene following the abortion was comprised of a male janitor entering and silently mopping the stage, his manual labor erasing the traces of the female body’s labor. Temporality and representation both collapsed upon themselves in this moment; the play’s time and real time conflated as the action and audience were suspended, waiting for the lone man to remove the traces of Amy’s blood. As male labor erased the remains of female bodily labor, the performance ceased to be strictly representational; this was not purely a mimetic act, but rather the actual removal of the staged, yet material remains of female embodiment and pain. The hiddenness of female bodily labor and the expunging of its traces by men are what Dry Land as a theatrical performance undoes. In staging both an abortion that demands spectatorial witness and the nonrepresentative act of the erasure of the signs of female pain and embodiment, Dry Land claimed abortion for the realm of visual representation, and revealed the patriarchal apparatuses that have so long expunged such representation from theatrical performance. Dry Land staged a rupture in the visual representation of female bodies. Having seen the production with a man, I queried him on his response to the abortion scene. He described a state of riveted shock. Indeed, much of the documented astonishment surrounding the scene has come from male spectators. The New York Times’s male theatre critic, for example, praised the play, while warning readers of the scene of abortion as “almost unbearable to watch.” During an Australian production of the play, a male audience member was reported to have fainted during the scene. Equivalent accounts of female spectators being disturbed, however, are absent in the discourse surrounding the play’s reception. Perhaps this is because many women live with the bloody realities of female embodiment on a monthly basis. Spiegel herself was advised numerous times to remove the scene prior to production. It is due to her refusal that Dry Land is uniquely efficacious at staging the politics of visual representation within theatre itself. CARLA NEUSS University of California, Los Angeles / 401 THE MAIDS. By Jean Genet. Translated by Bernard Frechtman. Directed by Ana Cristina (Gigi) Buffington. American Players Theatre, Spring Green, Wisconsin. July 14, 2017. The American Players Theatre’s (APT) production of The Maids exposed the profound heartbreak that contemporary colonialism creates within a single household, just as the Paris premiere of the play did some seventy years ago. Colonialism brings forth volcanic and conflicted emotions tearing the heart, soul, and identity apart in the play. By casting Latinx actors Andrea San Miguel (Solange) and Melisa Pereyra (Claire) as the maids and occasionally utilizing Spanish, APT’s production was contemporized and localized to the United States. The choice gave immigrant oppression a flesh-and-blood reality that is masked by news-media reports on federal manipulation of immigration laws. At the play’s opening, the maids, who are sisters, participate in yet another iteration of play-acting/ rehearsing “Madame and Servant,” which is to end in Madame’s “murder.” They alternately play the roles of Madame and Servant, experiencing an array of emotions when recreating their own plight as maids. They are interrupted by Madame returning home, but when she departs, their role-play moves into ritual sacrifice. In his youth, Genet saw a powerful and famous criminal, a heroic figure to him, reduced to a quaking mass in a funhouse-type hall of mirrors. He could not find his way out amid the confusing array of reflections, while lookers-on mocked him. The man was humiliated and, metaphorically at least, lost his grip on his identity. The notion of a world in which a person’s identity is locked into flat imitations, lies, imaginings, and distortions is a world that Genet himself and his characters inhabit. Recreating Genet’s hall-of-mirrors experience for an audience nevertheless always seemed impossible to me within the practical limitations of performance. In the final section of the play, Pereyra, performing Claire/Madame, portrayed a slippage of identity that prepared her for a transformation into Madame in the concluding ritual sacrifice. Claire’s identity had become so fragmented and confused that her adoration of Madame, her hatred of Madame, Madame’s love of her servant, Madame’s disdain of her servant, and Claire’s burning desire to complete the ritual all arrive at an emotionally cacophonous disintegration of self. The oppressor (Madame) is symbolically overthrown, but this final iteration takes on a reality previously missing: Solange is really going to poison Claire/Madame. As the characters moved from play-acting or rehearsing to ritual sacrifice, the audience moved from watching and hearing actors in a fiction (that