Nike Doukas and Sara Elkund (Photo by JoeySnap.com)
Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
Harold Clurman Laboratory Theater Company
Through August 17
Keely and Du begins with a nightmare scenario designed to incense any believer in a woman’s right to choose — indeed, it should infuriate not only advocates of choice, but anyone with a basic respect for other human beings.
In Jane Martin’s 1996 drama, Keely (Sara Elkund) a working-class woman, is kidnapped on the steps of an abortion clinic by a group of anti-abortion activists. She is drugged and transported to a cellar, where she is chained to the bed and informed that she is there for the duration of her pregnancy and will be compelled to carry the fetus to term. The fact that the pregnancy is the result of rape and that Keely is the sole caregiver of her invalid father is immaterial in the eyes of her zealous captors: Walter (Sean Spann) a pastor determined, through preaching and “education,” to make Keely understand how the life of the unborn child trumps all other considerations, and Du (Nike Doukas), a trained nurse with similar beliefs, assigned to take care of Keely’s needs during the six-plus months before she gives birth. Keely’s conversion to their way of thinking is central to the plan, which has been conceived in part as a public relations coup for a ruthless pro-birth campaign.
Though Walter appears to have masterminded this event, his presence in the cellar is spotty; it is Du, on 24 hour watch, who bears the brunt of Keely’s rage and despair. She fills in the stretches created by Keely’s sulky silences with talk about her own ambivalent marriage and children. She absorbs Keely’s insults without comment and does what she can to make her comfortable. On Keely’s birthday, she breaks a couple of rules so there can be the tiniest modicum of celebration. Though she stays firm in her convictions, there gradually emerges a tenuous bond between these women, in radical contrast to the fanatical, domineering Walter.
The play spins a tale of extremes more conceivable now — given the current scary proximity to power of the Christian Right —than when it premiered in the 1990s. Directed by Bryan Keith, the production’s potency turns on a skillfully nuanced performance by Doukas as a true believer who begins to nurse stirrings of doubt and a deepening empathy for the captive in her care. The story also gains credence behind Spann’s persuasive turn as Walter, a man who lives and breathes polemic and struggles to discern the humanity of a woman whose life he’s sabotaged.
As Keely — pummeled by self-righteous diatribe, stripped bare of bodily autonomy — Eklund projects a glowering, snarling, weeping rage (as who would not) but the portrayal is thin. The same, regrettably, can be noted of Niek Versteeg’s depiction of Cole, her abusive young husband; recruited by Walter, he rubs salt in Keely’s wounds when he visits the cellar to declare he’s found Jesus, then begs her to let him be a father.
The play — at over an hour plus 45, no intermission — might have benefited from some tailoring of the script. There are a great many monologues that might easily be shortened without losing any substance or punch.
Johnny Patrick Yoder’s grim, cell-like interior draws one in to the heart of the nightmare right away, and is suitably elaborated upon by Fadhia Carmelle Marcelin’s props and Aja Morris-Smiley’s costumes. Ray Jones’s lighting design delivers an excellent underscoring of the drama; in particular, the fading out and in again at the conclusion of each sequence is a strong, effective conduit to the story’s progression. And despite the melodrama and the production’s weak links, the timeliness of this story’s telling is disturbingly on point.
HCLAB, Art Of Acting Studio, 1017 N. Orange Dr., Hollywood; Wed.-Sat., 7:30 pm, thru Aug. 17. https://ci.ovationtix.com/34736 Running time: 105 minutes, no intermission
