In the Next Room, or the vibrator play
Reviewed by V Cate
Open Fist Theatre Company
Thru May 7
Recommended
1880s, New York. Clouds gather for rain and snow, the skies darken. Luckily, a novel new invention, only just recently refined and popularized by Thomas Edison, should help to illuminate things. However, the potential of electricity extends far beyond lighting solutions. Catherine Givings doesn’t know it, but her husband makes a living from wielding its power in a different, more intimate way.
Open Fist Theatre Company’s first live production since the pandemic began, In the Next Room, or the vibrator play deals with themes of repressed sexuality, bodily autonomy, womanhood, intimacy, and flesh as currency.
In the Victorian Era, it was conventional belief that a woman’s role in a sexual relationship was limited to satisfying a husband or producing a child. “Treating women with a vibrator was not considered sexual because women weren’t supposed to experience desire or pleasure,” says playwright Sarah Ruhl. Her play was inspired, in part, by a book Ruhl was reading at the time. The Technology of Orgasm: Hysteria, the Vibrator, and Women’s Sexual Satisfaction talks about the long-standing practice of massaging female patients to orgasm as a treatment for hysteria.
Almost any aberrant (independent) act in women could be construed as “hysteria.” Emotion, sadness, depression, despair, heightened sexuality, sexually withholding, or any kind of independent thought were all symptoms of a condition that needed to be cured. (The term ‘hysterical’ is still used today to dismiss emotions in women.)
Note: Genitalia is not gendered, and the issues within the play are not only felt by cisgender individuals. Ruhl almost deals with these issues with the character of Leo Irving (Bryan Bertone), or possibly Sabrina Daldry and Annie, but, in the context of common societal understanding of 2009, missed the mark when it comes to gender diversity. The language used in this review reflects the playwright’s intention to focus on womanhood.
Imagine the revelation of feminine climax after never having experiencing it… and then having to justify it with misguided scientific platitudes. Luckily, we have come a long way since Victorian times, like those emerging from Plato’s cave. But sexual shame and repression of female desire are still consistent problems that need to be addressed, and the problems go deeper than we acknowledge. (For instance, do you know that the full anatomy of the clitoris wasn’t discovered until 1998?) That is why this play is still so timely, even though it shouldn’t be.
As a character, Catherine (Dionna Veremis) is not entirely likable. She is wretched in her racism, her self-obsession, her privilege, and her inability to respect boundaries. But she is also vibrant, charismatic, passionate, yearns to be seen, and struggles with feelings of inadequacy.
Elizabeth (Monazia Smith) is Catherine’s wet nurse, hired by the Givings family to breastfeed their young child. Catherine’s attitude toward her is exacerbated by jealousy, and only softened when fulfilling a racist trope, in which Elizabeth imparts exceptional wisdom and understanding upon undeserving Catherine. Although the dialogue for Elizabeth is largely underserved, Smith elevates the character and shows through physicality and facial expression what her character was never able to say: That the way in which the white people around her treat her is unacceptable. While it is never satisfactorily brought up in the play, Smith imbues an authority to the character, making it clear: She will only stay for as long as she wants to and no more.
While the script may not excel at intersectional feminism, the 2009 play does still bring up important themes. Dr. Givings (Spencer Cantrell) is a white man in a position of authority, sterilely administering pleasure to women on his own terms. In so doing, he is actually robbing himself of the kind of sexual satisfaction that he yearns for, getting his kicks only through Freudian sublimation. At the same time, he helps to reinforce a Puritanical patriarchy.
While several storylines unfold in the Givings household and operation theater, the most touching is that of Sabrina Daldry (Stephanie Crothers), whose husband proclaims her to be an invalid requiring immediate attention, and Annie (Jennifer Zorbalas), Dr. Givings’ midwife assistant. If feminine pleasure was (and still is) largely repressed, doubly so was queer love. Crothers and Zorbalas handle their characters, and their pitiable circumstances, with delicacy and exuding chemistry.
It is interesting to note that, to date, all available reviews of this production have been authored by men. While In the Next Room is undoubtedly important for men to experience, it is a sincere hope that those who are female identifying, and those who were assigned female at birth, expose themselves to the piece, and to share their thoughts and opinions.
On that note, it is a boon that Lane Allison was the one to direct (within a producing company that is largely female run). She brings a thoughtful, feminine perspective to the work. Though some strange pauses and unwieldy “paroxysms” work against the tempo of performance, the direction clearly cultivated a cohesion of performance, and fostered both the comedy and the drama of the script.
The production design is marvelous; Costumes (Mylette Nora), set (Jan Munroe & Stephanie Crothers), lighting (Sarah Schwartz & Fiona Jessup), sound (Marc Antonio Schwartz), and properties (Ina Shumaker & Bruce Dickinson) perfectly set the tone and revealed the characters, with a special shoutout to uncredited hair design for being particularly period appropriate. The ensemble of performers is sweet and cohesive, riding the line of comedy and drama to charming effect.
All of this is to say… I’m really glad I came.
Open Fist Theatre Company at Atwater Village Theatre, 3269 Casitas Ave. Los Angeles, CA 90039; Fri – Sat 8pm & Sun 6pm thru May 7; www.openfist.org or (323) 882-6912. Running time: 2 and a half hours with one intermission.
