We are our memories. We store them up like a fragile treasure, moment by moment, layer by layer. Were constantly sifting through them, re-examining them, re-sorting them, in the hope we can understand the present or divine the future. And were incessantly sharing them with others in every imaginable social context.
We recognize that memories especially the memories of others are malleable and uncertain But even so we trust that with some acceptable margin for error we can rely on our own.
Until we cant.
The matriarchal figure at the center of Colman Domingos new play, Dot, which opened last week as part of the Humana Festival of New American Plays and the Brown-Forman Series at Actors Theatre of Louisville, has reached that point. For her, memory is a treacherous landscape where at any moment familiar ground can give way to a black crevice where even the most vivid or recent memories disappear into utter blackness.
People respond to encroaching dementia in different ways. For Dot, as the play opens, its a source of anguish and an embarrassment to be concealed. But it also fuels a desperate awareness that her memories are the most valuable things she has and an urgent drive to pass them along if she can, to her grandson Jason who looms over the play like an uncertain, unseen future.
In the title role, Marjorie Johnson is stunning. Domingos Dot is a formidable character with a rich backstory thats deftly woven into the fabric of the play. She and her late husband were neighborhood pioneers among the first African-Americans to move into what was once a solidly middle class neighborhood in West Philadelphia. (The technical professionals, scenic designer Dane Laffrey, lighting designer Mark Barton, and sound designer Christian Frederickson, do an outstanding job of placing us in the environment). Dot was active in politics, she nurtured the talents and creativity of her children, and even now, when her neighborhood is in decline, she feels a strong sense of duty to put it back on track.
Dot also possesses a fine, swaggering wit that Johnson captures with perfect timing. But if her comic timing is perfect, its her execution of tragic timing that will leave you wiping your eyes. One moment shell be cruising along on a droll roll, bantering with her long-suffering caregiving daughter Shelly (Sharon Washington), then shell stop, her eyes suddenly haunted and empty.
The action plays out a couple of days before Christmas, and with the season, family and friends are returning home. For Shelly, who is frustrated, sad and fearful about her mothers decline, its a chance to fight for the help she needs.
For the audience its the assembly of a fascinating group. First on the scene is Jackie (Megan Byrne), a volatile, vulnerable friend of the family and the high school sweetheart of Dots middle son Donnie (Kevin R. Free), who shortly after their relationship discovered that he was gay.
Donnie and his husband Adam (Sean Dugan) have a relationship fraught with love and tension (some of the tension stems from the fact that, in a case of colossally-comic bad timing, theyve started a juice cleanse just before the classic holiday feast. In addition, theres flamboyant, larger-than-life youngest sister, Averie (Adrienne C. Moore, of the Netflix series, Orange is the New Black) who brings a riotous presence (and some riotous colors, thanks to costume designer Connie Furr Soloman) to the party. And finally, theres Fidel (Vichet Chum) a gentle, soft-spoken refugee from Kayakeestan, says Dot whose patient, compassionate care for Dot stems from a deeply felt link.
Domingo occasionally introduces elements that important as they are feel more didactic than theatric. Theres a mini-lecture about civic responsibility that seems more directed at the audience than at those on stage. And theres an incompletely fulfilled episode where Donnie reluctantly dons goggles, gloves and headphones in order to simulate what its like to live with dementia. But under Meredith McDonoughs fine direction, this is a play where every character offers us moving epiphanies, not just about dementia, but about memory in all its glory and pain. And perhaps the most powerful lesson comes from Shelly who comes to understand that as tragic as it is to forget, its even more painful to be forgotten.
I Will Be Gone Erin Courtneys new play, I Will Be Gone, directed by Kip Fagan, also opened as part of the Humana Festival this past weekend. Its a mess. An ambitious mess, perhaps, but a mess nonetheless. Courtneys script is basically a tangle of subplots some trendy, some witty, some promising without a center. Is it a gothic coming-of-age teen comedy complete with ghosts? A moral rumination on the ethics of abandoning old friends? A love triangle? A family drama about a middle-aged woman who doesnt really feel up to caring for her suddenly orphaned niece?
The action is set in California in a small town near an abandoned mining town thats become a protected tourist destination. Its literally a ghost town, or at least there are lots of people who think its haunted.
The folks who live nearby include juvenile, philandering, punk-rock drumming Mayor Liam (Alex Moggridge), his stern spouse Liz (Rachel Leslie), Liams once and future flame Josephine (Birgit Huppuch) and Josephines teen-aged niece Penelope (Amy Berryman), whose mother, Theresa, has recently died. Penelopes friend and love interest Elliot (Seth Clayton) is a lanky, goofy, recovering addict. Theres also Jim, once a brilliant math wizard (and close friend of Liam and Josephine) whose schizophrenic break a couple of decades ago reduced him to wandering the town muttering gibberish and doing small jobs. In backstory segments, we see the young Theresa (Lexi Lapp), young Jim (Hernando Caicedo) and young Josephine (Elise Coughlan) doing youthful things that might or might not have something to do with the present.
Thanks to scenic designer Andrew Boyce, lighting designer Paul Toben, sound designer Daniel Kluger and costume designer Kathleen Geldard, there are ghostly apparitions, earthquakes (because maybe that mine is cursed and haunted) and the makings of a quite amusing Halloween party. And thanks to very charming performances (it really is quite a fine cast), the two hour running time passes quickly enough (despite a couple of very unusual opening night tech glitches).
Dot ?I Will Be Gone
Through April 12
Actors Theatre of Louisville
316 W. Main St., 584-1205