This past weekend, I saw a play at Boston University that took me way out of my comfort zone, something I gather playwright Annalise Cain would be quite happy to hear.
What Screams I Hear Are Mine tackles rape, racism, suicide, self-harm, sexism, and, oh yeah, a blood-stained diary that possesses anyone who opens it. I could have gone over to the Boston Opera House and caught On Your Feet, but no. I attended this play you've never heard of (until now), and no offense to Gloria Estefan, but I'm really glad I saw this instead.
[Full disclosure (take note, Sean Hannity): I'm friends with someone in the cast.]
I left the theatre with as many questions as I did opinions, but every great show I've ever seen in New York, Boston, London, or on tour across the United States has done exactly this, and it's a true testament to the amazing work of the playwright that she left me wanting so much more.
The story begins in a young girl's bedroom, and we see right away how she's haunted by the demons of her past and present, as evidenced by the other five cast members watching over her in her bed. This little move was so simple yet so effective, highlighting not just the emotional state of the protagonist, but also showing the audience what other faces they'd soon be seeing throughout the 90-minute show.
The players themselves (Lily Hargis, Keaton Brower, Caitlin Fischer, Tatiana Chavez, Sean Perreira, and Seth Hill) move in and out of the set like ghosts at both the start and end of the play, seeming to signify the energies they bring to the story, as well as indirectly to the young girl's addled brain. Highest praise to Director Jessica Scout Malone for all her work throughout. Though as an outsider I don't know all the choices she must have made, I could tell from the staging, timing, and acting that she was clearly a powerful force from the very beginning.
So what exactly makes this show work so well, despite the heavy subject matter? It all comes down to the matter-of-fact acting by its lead, Lily Hargis. You cannot hope to weather the winds and storms of such material without putting your full trust in the captain steering the vessel, and for an hour and a half, Lily Hargis as Dana did exactly that. Even when we weren't sure what was true and what was not, we put our trust in the captain to show us the way, through Dana's flawed but dynamic vision.
Brava to playwright Annalise Cain for such perfect words, and brava again to director Jessica Stout Malone for crafting the message beautifully for the stage, but Lily Hargis as Dana truly was a revelation. She needed to be, in turns, strange and angry and funny and thoughtful and confused and fierce throughout the show, and she succeeded over and over again triumphantly.
Though Lily's role was so central to the story, I must heap all deserved praise on the incredible work by the rest of the cast, too, whose actions and reactions brought this unique story to life with equal parts humor, sincerity, and uncomfortably perfect tension.
Keaton Brower as Nils was tasked with one of the greatest challenges any actor has to face: a multifaceted role with so much complexity, you cannot help but feel the conflict in your bones. Is he good or isn't he? Is he friendly and kind and sweet, or is he hiding something? Does he know what really happened? Is he a victim himself? Is he protecting someone? For an hour and a half, I had absolutely no idea, which says so much about Keaton's brilliant performance. He was a pulsing, kinetic light I couldn't quite figure out, and I loved the confusion he brought to the role.
Caitlin Fischer played Dana's older sister turned reluctant surrogate mother, and she was able to fill the divide between the children and the adults in the play seamlessly. We trusted her implicitly as the sane adult in Dana's life, but also sympathized with her as the carefree young woman she'd much rather be. I was really impressed with Caitlin's strength in this complex role, as she carried both roles within the role with complete confidence, as if she really was living the character's life.
Tatiana Chavez was awesome. She whips into the story as a brave young girl ready to take on the world and all its demons, even to the point of helping Dana with her own dark thoughts and issues, but she proves she can be strong and courageous against even her friends when the going gets tough. Tatiana is a fantastic actor with confidence coming out her ears, and anytime I saw her take the stage, I knew she would move her character's story, and the overall plot, full steam ahead.
Sean Perreira is proof there are no small roles. When I think about the show two days out, and reflect on the various storylines, I realize Sean was not on as much as some of the others, but when he was? Wow. This is an actor who could easily headline another production, and yet he put himself in this role 100%, leading the way with his steady words and movements. He squeezed out every ounce of charm and adolescence in his role, displayed it for us to see, and swam through it all beautifully.
Seth Hill was wonderful. He didn't have a ton of lines, but his time on and off stage was so crucial to the plot. I loved watching him as a romantic love interest as much as I enjoyed seeing him explode at the accusations railed against him. In a cast filled with talent, Seth stood tall, not based on his stature alone, but because of his inherent blessings as an actor. I was floored by his ability to play such different emotions, sometimes one after the other, over the course of this remarkable play.
After seeing What Screams I Hear Are Mine, my brain was still racing. I had so many questions, but I honestly was grateful they were left so gloriously unanswered by the time it ended.
A great play is not about telling the audience what to think, nor even about supplying them with every fact they need to form a particular opinion. A great play plays. It plays with words and actions and thoughts and feelings. It plays with the hearts and minds of the players and the audience alike. It plays and it plays, and it plays and it plays, and the song that is sung is never meant to end. Annalise Cain wrote a play. And it plays on, and will surely play on, forever.
