by Deirdre Donovan
Dael Orlandersmith returns to New York Theatre Workshop with her
new semi-autobiographical show Forever. If you have never seen this
gifted author-actress on stage, now is your chance to catch her in a tour de
force performance.
Forget about gilding the lily! Orlandersmith goes for the truth
here. She boldly explores her roots in Harlem, her troubled relationship with
her mother, and how she slowly forged her own personal identity. In her
80-minute monologue, Orlandersmith covers a lot of emotional ground and those
hard-won battles that continue to define her life today.
As Orlandersmith strolls onto the stage at the opener, she glances
at photos that line the walls of the performing space. One hears a recording
of Marianne Faithfull’s “Ghost Dance” playing softly in the background. Once
at center stage, Orlandersmith quietly lights a candle on a small table that is
bare except for a few books and an old-fashioned record player. There is a
pregnant silence for a moment—and then Orlandersmith turns to the audience and
begins her narrative in earnest.
Photos by Joan Marcus
Strangely, Orlandersmith doesn’t begin with a reverie about her
early life and growing up in New York. She invites us on a ride that takes us
to Paris, the City of Light, and to the stillness of Pere Lachaise Cemetary.
Orlandersmith, in fact, bookends her memory play with this hushed graveside
setting to underscore that she has two families, one biological and the other
spiritual.
Orlandersmith invites the audience to eavesdrop as she communes
with those famous people in the cemetery who no longer live in the flesh but
the spirit. She stands among the headstones of the greats like Balzac,
Modigliani, Piaf, Oscar Wilde, Chopin, Collette, Proust. And more. And, as
Orlandersmith converses with their ghosts, she confides to the audience that
she considers these iconic personages as her nearest and dearest: “”I am
seeking these family/ these living resting people/ These people who are really
my family / who I really WANT to be my family . . .“THESE people here in Pere
Lachaise – who beyond our parents helped us give birth to ourselves.”
The bulk of the monologue centers on her troubled relationship
with her mother, who left deep emotional scars on her. She combs through the
ashes of her childhood in Harlem and relates what it was like growing up with a
mother who suffered from a bi-polar disorder. Her voice increasingly becomes
edged with anger as she delves into the raw pain of her childhood and the
paucity of love in her home. And one learns that it was only when
Orlandersmith confronted the fact that her mother couldn’t give her what she
emotionally needed that she was able to begin her own authentic life journey.
While Orlandersmith is intent in exploring the mother-and-daughter
relationship, she also reveals one of her darkest experiences ever. She
recounts a rape by a total stranger when she was a young girl, in all its
graphic details, in her Harlem home. When Orlandersmith reported it to the
police, and they came to her home and rushed her to Metropolitan Hospital, she
reveals that awaiting treatment, her thoughts drifted to Bessie Smith who died
there.
The production values are all in place. Takeshi Kata’s modest set
is apropos, as is Kaye Voyce’s equally understated costume. This show, in
fact, exudes with the less-is-more maxim. Mary Louise Geiger’s lighting design
leans into a twilight effect—and sometimes plunges the stage into near-darkness
with only flickering candle-light glowing at center stage. Adam Phalen’s
sound design compliments the piece without overpowering Orlandersmith’s voice.
As sensitively directed by Neel Keller, this piece is more than
navel-gazing but a moving account of how Orlandersmith refused to become a
victim of her tough-luck circumstances. Even more remarkable is how she
ultimately spins her story into one of forgiveness and redemption. From the
ashes, Orlandersmith rises phoenix-like and wiser. And if you make a visit to
the New York Theatre Workshop this May before Orlandersmith leaves the venue,
so will you.
Through Sunday, May 31.
At New York Theatre Workshop, at 79 E. 4th Street in
the East Village
For tickets and more information, phone Ticket Central at 212-279-4200
or visit www.nytw.org.
Running Time: 80 minutes with no intermission.