Heroes of the Fourth Turning
Reviewed by Katie Buenneke
Rogue Machine
Through October 2
RECOMMENDED
It’s probably fair to generalize that most theater audiences, particularly audiences in Los Angeles, skew towards the stereotype of “coastal liberals.” Given this, it seems unlikely that the theatergoing public would want to watch Heroes of the Fourth Turning, a play set in rural Wyoming, that sympathetically depicts right-wing millennials. And yet it is necessary viewing — a tour de force of writing, direction, and acting.
The play, by Will Arbery (who notes in the program that he was raised by Catholic conservative parents), is set in a college town in 2017, i.e. after Trump was inaugurated but before Roe v. Wade was repealed. Four alumni of the fictional Transfiguration College of Wyoming are in town for the inauguration of the school’s new president. Each of the four represents a Catholic and/or conservative archetype: Emily (Emily James), the sweet, good Christian girl; Justin (Stephen Tyler Howell), the laconic, open-carrying strong man; Teresa (Evangeline Edwards), the Tomi Lahren-esque firebrand; and Kevin (Samuel Garnett), who perpetually feels guilty.
Teresa is determined to grandstand and impress Emily’s mom, Gina (Roxanne Hart), who is the school’s new president. Emily, who has an unnamed health condition that causes her recurring, severe pain, is happy to be in the company of her friends, but also just wants to get through the night and go home. Justin, in whose backyard we’re sitting, is a man who does not act on desires. And Kevin is having a few crises: of faith, of sobriety, and of self-knowledge.
These characters are not one-dimensional, cartoonish villains; they are knowable, intellectual people, humans whose counterparts across the political aisle are likely in the audience, or perhaps are friends of those in the audience. Or maybe the characters exactly as written are people you might know if you grew up among Catholics and conservatives, as I did. As a writer, Arbery is remarkably skilled, not just at drawing distinct characters and voicing them realistically, but on a structural level as well. The strengths of the play are underscored by the ensemble’s fine performances.
The play’s title refers to the Strauss-Howe generational theory, which Teresa explains to the other characters (and for the benefit of us in the audience) is the idea that a long human life is made up of four eras, or turnings: a high, like the Baby Boom in the 40s and 50s; an awakening, like the cultural revolutions of the 60s and 70s; an unraveling, like the path from Reaganomics in the 80s to the Great Recession in the 00s; and the fourth turning, a crisis, like the Great Depression in the 30s or the Obama administration (according to Republicans) or the Trump administration (according to Democrats).
As there are four eras, there are four archetypes, which align with generations. Those born during an unravelling — that is, the Millennials — are deemed “heroes.” Arbery doesn’t just explain this in a digestible way, he also echoes it in the characters, each of whom represents archetypes both of and distinct from the fourth turning.
But this is fundamentally a play about abortion. Gina tells the alumni towards the end that, “On the issue of life, Catholics are called to be single-issue voters” — implying that the ends justify the means, even if the means are Donald Trump, a man whom no one onstage wholeheartedly admires, even though they all unquestioningly voted for him. Earlier in the play, Teresa and Emily, who are both pro-choice activists, debate why someone might choose abortion, which Teresa is adamant is murdering a child. The debate over abortion seesaws over the unknowable answer to the question, “At what point does a clump of cells become a person?” Similarly, this play hinges on the question, “At what point does your enemy cease to be a person?” Teresa unshakably believes that an aborted fetus was murdered, but doesn’t view Jason, an ex-Marine and sharpshooter, as a murderer.
The cast is phenomenal. As Teresa, Evangeline Edwards strikes a perfect balance between imperiousness and vulnerability. Emily James hits all the right notes as a young woman who is simultaneously saint-like and fed up with carrying every burden with a smile. Samuel Garnett skillfully plays a man teetering on the edge, moments away from falling to an unknown fate. Roxanne Hart is commanding as Dr. Presson, a stalwart from an earlier era of conservatism. And Stephen Tyler Howell plays Justin adeptly, but seems to be straining to pitch his voice lower, undercutting some of the authority his character should naturally command.
As strong as the text is, it might easily have fallen into caricature. Guillermo Cienfuegos directs the production with a steady hand, guiding the ensemble so they hit each beat perfectly, without seeming over-rehearsed. As the audience, we feel like we are there, in Justin’s backyard, watching all this happen contemporaneously. It’s a tricky needle to thread, but Cienfuegos pulls it off, as if effortlessly.
Early in the play, Teresa tells Kevin, “I can help you think the thoughts but I can’t make you feel the feelings.” This play does exactly that, showing the audience the thoughts of the voters who elected Trump, challenging each viewer to find where they do and don’t agree with what they’re hearing. You get inside the brain of each character onstage— yet it’s not a play designed to brainwash. You think the thoughts, but do you feel the feelings? Perhaps that is yet another deeply personal, unknowable question.
Rogue Machine at the Matrix Theatre, 7657 Melrose Ave, Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8 pm, Sun., 2 pm, Mon., 8 pm, through October 2. https://www.roguemachinetheatre.org/. Running time: two hours with no intermission.
