The announcement of any performance of British playwright Caryl Churchill is cause for excitement. She has long been a powerful and intriguing voice for gender equality, environmental protection, and sense of self while providing memorable entertainment. On that score, the premiere program of four of her short works — Glass. Kill. What If If Only. Imp. — at The Public Theater is a disappointment. Director James Macdonald and his artistic team have done a masterful job of making the production visually interesting. But while moments gleam, it never comes together as a cohesive event.
Glass explores the melancholy lives of four decorative items (Japhet Balaban, Adelind Horan, Sathya Sridharan, and Ayana Workman) beyond the confines of their shared mantelpiece. Designer Miriam Buether’s first impactful set is a solid LED jutting out from the darkness and demanding attention. Though a soulful Workman gives depth to the glass figurine who is the catalyst for the tragic events that unfold, Glass plays out more like an acting class exercise than a full fledged work of theater.
Deirdre O’Connell, who won a Tony Award for her solo work in Dana H, pulls off the chillingly violent patter of Kill. Sitting comfortably on a puffy cloud, a sparkling god of Olympus recounts many evil deeds performed by men — from the prideful Tantalus to the warrior Agamemnon — in the Pantheon’s name. The repetition would sound like the narration of a five-year-old were the content less bloody. A knowledge of Greek mythology is essential for following the rapid-fire references, though the essence is clear from O’Connell’s tone and manner.
The first half is closed out with What If If Only, a meditation on love, loss, and the risks of second chances. For this solemn reflection, Buether provides a still life setting in stark black, white and red. The sound design of Bray Poor also plays a key role by reinforcing the oppressive atmosphere. The philosophical theater game is anchored by John Ellison Conlee, who makes the absurd sound completely natural.
Breaks between these plays are filled by two talented acrobats. The first is Junru Wang, who performs a balletic work while her hands balance on small stools at the foot of the stage. For the second, we are treated to what I christened a “juggler-tease” performed with flirtatious glee by Maddox Morfit-Tighe. Unfortunately some of his choreography was out of the sight lines of the back half of the audience. Whether these two talented people provide unity, distraction, or a fleeting moment of joy is up to the beholder.
The second half of the program is fully occupied by the more plot-heavy Imp. Conlee and O’Connell portray Jimmy and Dot, friends close enough to consider themselves brother and sister of different parents. The affable Jimmy lifts his mood with running and chess. Slumped in a nearby chair, Dot is ill-temperated and unwell. She also believes herself to be in possession of a magical imp imprisoned in a wine bottle.
The rhythm of their lives is altered by the arrival of two newcomers. First their niece, Niamh, a recent transplant from Ireland stops by. (Horan is wonderful at delivering Neve’s wildest fears in recognizable Churchill style.) Then the couch surfing Rob enters their lives (Balaban again). The younger pair is tossed about, though who’s to say whether their bumpy ride is caused by a supernatural being, the differing attitudes of their hosts, or just life.
It is fitting that the stage on which Glass. Kill. What If If Only. Imp. are performed is framed in chase lights with definite personality (Isabella Byrd lighting design). With its bitesized ideas and high level of engagement, it’s Caryl Churchill for the TikTok generation. Churchill’s signature poetic language and extraordinary themes are intact, but there is too little structure. The Playbill notes encourage us to look beyond conventional narratives, but humans are storytellers with a need for an organizing rope to hold. The feeling left behind by experiencing these four shorts is more akin to a stroll through a depressive art gallery than witnessing an emotionally fulfilling theatrical work. Performances continue through May 11th at the Martinson Theater at The Public, 425 Lafayette Street. Running time is 2:15 with one intermission. Tickets are available at https://publictheater.org/productions/season/2425/caryl-churchill-plays/ and start at $89.
The Unforgettable Line 