Simon Stone's new adaptation of Lorca's Yerma now playing at the Park Avenue Armory is one of the most interesting productions I've ever seen. Stone, who also directs, has created a unique vision and staging, and gets terrific performances by his cast (especially Billie Piper). Unfortunately his own adaptation lets the production down.
Yerma has a simple plot: a woman wants to have a child, and the obsession over conceiving one completely takes over her life and ruins it. The Lorca original makes this a community and social issue; it is the woman's duty to provide her husband with an heir, and if she cannot, she will be ostracized by society. Stone's version has set it in the twenty-first century, a time during which is it not out of the ordinary for women to remain childless. Of course, some stigma still exists around women not becoming mothers (whether by choice or otherwise), no matter how much we tell ourselves that women have the choice to do whatever they want. This version of the protagonist (who is not named) is an affluent arts and culture blogger, and her partner (later husband) John is a successful globe-trotting business man. They have just bought a house at the start of the play. This woman has a great life, comparatively, which allows her all the time possible to fixate on not being a mother. Her behavior becomes viscous, out of control, and eventually dangerous because of her desire. She literally loses everything.
However, for a play with such a dynamic and dangerous protagonist, the proceedings are a bit dull. The early scenes move at a glacial pace. I get that we have to see her in her normal life first but I think making the world smaller and removing the sense of public scrutiny lowers the stakes. You can argue that that is what makes everything more intense, that her obsession exists only in her head. But I wanted the whole thing to escalate higher. And I feel like changing the ending the way Stone did is a tad problematic; it's as though she cannot survive because she is not a mother. It just buys into the idea that a woman is not complete without a child and that she has no place in society if she is not a mother.
But, and I never thought I'd say this, the play is not the thing here. Much like People, Places, and Things, seen in the fall at St. Anne's Warehouse, the play is fine but it's truly the (lead) performance and staging that are the reasons to see it. Simon makes great use of the vast Park Avenue Armory space. He places his actors in a glass box with the audience on either side. It's like a human terrarium, and it truly feels like the audience is eavesdropping on these people's lives. It's very voyeuristic, very intimate, regardless of the space's size. These people are truly on display. The sound design and amplification also created an incredibly intimate setting; the mics pick up every breath, every sound their mouths make. It's like listening in on a private phone conversation. The only complaint I have is that if you're sitting further back, you will not be able to make out facial expressions. But the blackouts between the short scenes and the loud, repetitive music contribute to the overall visceral experience this is. It can become overwhelming. Maybe the best way to consider Yerma is as a piece of experimental performance art. The glass box makes it feel like an installation. We, the audience, are just dropping in to witness a piece of this woman's life.
Yerma has a simple plot: a woman wants to have a child, and the obsession over conceiving one completely takes over her life and ruins it. The Lorca original makes this a community and social issue; it is the woman's duty to provide her husband with an heir, and if she cannot, she will be ostracized by society. Stone's version has set it in the twenty-first century, a time during which is it not out of the ordinary for women to remain childless. Of course, some stigma still exists around women not becoming mothers (whether by choice or otherwise), no matter how much we tell ourselves that women have the choice to do whatever they want. This version of the protagonist (who is not named) is an affluent arts and culture blogger, and her partner (later husband) John is a successful globe-trotting business man. They have just bought a house at the start of the play. This woman has a great life, comparatively, which allows her all the time possible to fixate on not being a mother. Her behavior becomes viscous, out of control, and eventually dangerous because of her desire. She literally loses everything.
However, for a play with such a dynamic and dangerous protagonist, the proceedings are a bit dull. The early scenes move at a glacial pace. I get that we have to see her in her normal life first but I think making the world smaller and removing the sense of public scrutiny lowers the stakes. You can argue that that is what makes everything more intense, that her obsession exists only in her head. But I wanted the whole thing to escalate higher. And I feel like changing the ending the way Stone did is a tad problematic; it's as though she cannot survive because she is not a mother. It just buys into the idea that a woman is not complete without a child and that she has no place in society if she is not a mother.
But, and I never thought I'd say this, the play is not the thing here. Much like People, Places, and Things, seen in the fall at St. Anne's Warehouse, the play is fine but it's truly the (lead) performance and staging that are the reasons to see it. Simon makes great use of the vast Park Avenue Armory space. He places his actors in a glass box with the audience on either side. It's like a human terrarium, and it truly feels like the audience is eavesdropping on these people's lives. It's very voyeuristic, very intimate, regardless of the space's size. These people are truly on display. The sound design and amplification also created an incredibly intimate setting; the mics pick up every breath, every sound their mouths make. It's like listening in on a private phone conversation. The only complaint I have is that if you're sitting further back, you will not be able to make out facial expressions. But the blackouts between the short scenes and the loud, repetitive music contribute to the overall visceral experience this is. It can become overwhelming. Maybe the best way to consider Yerma is as a piece of experimental performance art. The glass box makes it feel like an installation. We, the audience, are just dropping in to witness a piece of this woman's life.
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