Shannon Woo, Jessica Woehler, Abigail Stewart, Allison Schlicher (Photo by Larry Sandez)
Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
Actors Co-op
Through March 30
Before the lawsuits against Big Tobacco and Big Pharma, before Erin Brockovich led the charge against PG & E, before the class action suit brought by veterans against seven chemical companies for the harm done by Agent Orange, before countless other environmental outrages were committed against our citizenry, there was Catherine Donohue and her suit against the Radium Dial Company.
Donohue was one of about 1000 women who worked for the company in Ottawa, Illinois in the 1920s and 30s. The job consisted of painting glow-in-the-dark numbers onto watches, the glow facilitated by the presence of radium in the paint. The women — happy in a job that paid well for its time — were never informed that the radium might be harmful; in fact, in keeping with the flawed science of the times, radium was touted as possibly beneficial. Even after evidence began to emerge of its dire effects on health, the women were kept ignorant. They continued to be encouraged to lick their brushes to a fine point to refine the craftsmanship of their task. When some of them began to feel desperately ill — radium absorbs into the bones, causing bone cancer, tooth loss, necrosis of the jaw and other horrible ailments — their complaints were dismissed as unrelated to their work. When they became too ill or too vocal, they were dismissed.
Directed by Thom Babbes at Actors Co-op, Melanie Marnich’s These Shining Lives is devised from the perspective of Catherine Donohue (Abigail Stewart), who speaks to us from the afterlife as she reflects on her mortal years. These reflections span the years from her initial hire at Radium Dial, through the beginnings of her employment when she loved her work, her subsequent illness, her battle for justice and accountability, and finally her tragic demise at age 35, coming three weeks after the Supreme Court’s final verdict in her favor.
At first, the story shifts between Catherine’s homelife with her husband Tom (Isaac Jay), a construction worker, and her workplace, where she shares a camaraderie with three other women as they paint watch faces under the patriarchal eye of their supervisor, Mr. Reed (a spot-on John Colella). Tom adores Catherine, and while initially he’s on the fence about her holding down a job (this is the 1920s), he eventually complies with grace. Later scenes depict the tension this sometimes brings to the marriage, as Catherine sometimes dallies after work with her friends, leaving Tom to make dinner for their two kids. Tom is also among those who express doubts when Catherine first vocalizes that something with her health is seriously wrong.
The sequences at work are filled with chitchat among the four women. This doesn’t always push the narrative forward, but their topics of conversation lend the story period flavor. Also, a morphing relationship between Catherine and Charlotte (Jessica Woehler) — Charlotte is the dominant female personality in the workplace when Catherine arrives — threads into the spine of the story as Catherine gradually transforms from a naïve impressionable young person to a resolute one.
As playwright, Marnich strives to portray Catherine’s nobility and courage; the play valorizes her (and all the working women she represents), imbuing her life and theirs with a significance that outlasts death. Her journey is the focus of the play, rather than the battle she undertakes with corporate greed and indifference, however significant this dramatic element might be.
But the production, which leans into melodrama, doesn’t pack the dynamic it should. One major drawdown is how it presents the marriage between Tom and Catherine — as written, joyful despite the couple’s spats and integral to the story because it’s part of the portrait of Catherine as happy — until her health takes a turn for the worse. But from the beginning, Jay’s portrayal of a passionately enamored spouse doesn’t resonate. Lines are spoken, but little of this actor’s own self seems invested. With minimal on-stage chemistry, these domestic scenes lack truth.
As Catherine, Stewart’s introductory speech is a bit too sticky sweet and theatrical (this may have been a directorial choice) — but her performance gathers dimension as the play proceeds, and she’s ultimately successful in projecting her character’s transition from a naïve and plucky woman (who wants to earn for her family and take joy in loving her husband) to an ill and frightened individual who conquers her fear and resolves to challenge her wrong-doers.
Supporting performers — Woehler as Charlotte and Allison Schlicher, and Shannon Woo as Catherine’s other two co-workers — come alive at various intervals, but they perform at a disadvantage, with the workplace scenes all situated upstage and the workers crowded together behind a small table. Michael Kachingwe brings a touch of humor to this tragic story as the company doctor who attempts to gaslight the women, his delivery underscoring the smug hypocrisy of the corporate enemy.
The most impressive element of Joel Daavid’s scenic design is the two giant clocks at the rear of the set, their hands (this is at the top of the play, before the dialogue begins, and a couple of other places as well) moving at an accelerated speed to the tick-tock facilitated by David Marling’s sound. Other times Marling’s design seems not quite apropos — popular tunes of the period are filtered in for atmosphere, but prove more distracting to the action than enhancing. Dramatic bursts of sound meant to punctuate the drama seem like overkill.
Projections by Nick Santiago lend the requisite historical backdrop. Derrick McDaniel’s lighting facilitate the shifts from the spectral world to the one here on earth. Jeffrey Schoenberg’s workaday costumes are suitable for the women, but his choice for Tom puzzles; the character seems dressed like a retail store or office clerk, as opposed to the blue-collar guy he is written to be.
Actors Co-op, Crossley Theatre, 1760 North Gower St., Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 7:30 pm; Sun., 2:30 pm; thru March 30. https://actorsco-op.org Running time: approximately 100 minutes with no intermission.
