Dark comedies such as Andrea D. Peterson’s (plan c), which is receiving its world premiere in a PYGmalion Theatre Company production, challenge the critic’s charge to give it a constructive review. Humor is an effective defense mechanism to a certain degree. Audiences might struggle in coming to terms with the story of Ginnifer, a woman approaching her late thirties, who learns that she is pregnant, which couldn’t come at a worse time in her life. She was just laid off from her job as a copywriter and is living with Sarah, her older sister.
Ginnifer’s character is not likable or charming. Her humor is sharp and unfiltered, often caustic enough to make audiences laugh uncomfortably, as their own defense tactic in trying to embrace the stakes of Ginnifer’s unfolding crisis. As noted in The Utah Review’s preview of the play, she is in blue ocean territory, always wondering just how much she can trust what her doctor, her sister and her unexpected partner are telling her about being pregnant, even when she is convinced that something in her body is definitely not right.
The opening night performance, directed by Fran Pruyn, produced some excellent moments in the first act, which found its ideal rhythm, especially in the performances of Liz Whittaker as Ginnifer and Nicole Finney as Sarah, her sister. Rounding out the cast are admirable performances by Bobby Cavalier as Stanley, Ginnifer’s partner, and Paul Naylor, as the family OB-GYN.
Whittaker and Finney are at their finest in the play’s best scene, which occurs in the first act when Sarah reveals a shocking secret to Ginnifer, who is still wavering about which option to pursue. Here, the comedy is set aside momentarily. And, the scene encapsulates the creative brief set out in Peterson’s choice for the play’s title.
The mother of five who has recently returned to her career in an advertising agency, Sarah talks about how much she still enjoys being intimate with her husband. Their mother was emotionally absent so Ginnifer has always sought and trusted the advice her older sister offered.
When Sarah discovered that she was pregnant with her sixth child, she made a choice that she never told her husband. She says, “Come on? Try being married and a mom, babies just come with the job. You don’t hear about the numbers for married women getting abortions, do you? Because no one talks about it. You think you don’t have a choice before marriage, get married and see what society thinks of you getting an abortion then.”
Neither sister is radiating kindness or understanding. Peterson draws us to the stakes of the empathetic challenge in articulating a counterpoint of the underlying emotional isolation between these sisters. Knowing what her sister decided, Ginnifer lays out her rationale, which Sarah rebukes harshly.
Ginnifer snaps back, “Yeah, and your advice sucks so I don’t take it. Hence standing on my own two feet.” Sarah responds to her younger sister, “Gin, I don’t think it has anything to do with bad advice. I think you are so fixated on making choices in opposition to what someone tells you just because you don’t want to be told what to do; that I don’t think you actually know what you really want. Do you really want an abortion or is it just because you don’t want people telling you what you can or can’t do with your body?…Make a choice because you are ‘for’ something. Not because you’re ‘against’ it.”
Unfortunately, as we learn much later in the play, Sarah and Ginnifer belatedly discover the real sisterhood bond being driven by their respective struggles with a common crisis they have experienced.
Ginnifer’s predicament is drenched in uncertainty and as much as Sarah, Stanley and Dr. Louis, in their kindness, attempt to assuage her fears, they steadily expand throughout the play which goes deep into territory that overplayed the melodramatic effect in the final third of the second act. This lacked the rhythmic precision of the first act. How we get to the ending is complicated and messy—and the audience’s reaction at the conclusion on opening night seemed tentative and at least a bit uncomfortable.
No question, art should never shy away from rigorously challenging the audience to be uncomfortable, even as the play generously serves up well-written lines of dark comedy within the context of its inherently tacit political undercurrents. But clearly the second act needs to be tightened significantly and the balance between comedy and drama honed.
The aforementioned scene of the first act between Sarah and Ginnifer is good foreshadowing. Ginnifer’s story is far more harrowing than what the play’s three other characters realize. In the current context, many women recognize the face of the insidious evil of shame-inducing denunciation and the pernicious environment of fear and distrust that Ginnifer is struggling to overcome. It’s an important story and future productions should build upon the experiences of this world premiere by sharpening it into an even more impactful piece of theater.
Performances continue through Saturday (May 16) at the Leona Wagner Black Box Theatre at the Rose Wagner Center for Performing Arts. For tickets and more information, see the PYGmalion Theatre website.