Who Are You
Reviewed by Martίn Hernández
Greenway Court Theatre
Through June 19
RECOMMENDED
Writer/performer Shareen Mitchell’s witty and insightful autobiographical script delivers both a sincere redemption tale and perhaps an inadvertent depiction of the rewards of White privilege, enhanced by Mitchell’s engrossing performance and direction by Kate Jopson.
As model and actor Mitchell blissfully arrives at an Ojai meditation retreat, she explains that ten years before, she was deeply in debt, jobless and loveless. How she got to this point she wont’s say but she recounts with vivid honesty and humor the myriad of self-help schemes – from vision boards to cleansing fasts, from Deepak to Oprah – she tried to salvage her life, all to no avail.
“I was supposed to be somebody,” Mitchell woefully declares, a sentiment many women in her race and class demographic embrace when their dreams are dashed – she went to Smith, for God’ sake! Now she is reduced to working as a babysitter for women in that same demographic, from Glendale to the worst place in the world – Culver City. As she cluelessly laments her toiling for a wage poorer women would rejoice at, Mitchell finds emotional compensation from the unconditional love and lack of judgment from the kids for whom she cares. But that is not enough.
When she reluctantly takes the words of a spiritual advisor to heart, Mitchell’s luck changes. It helps, however, that a previous career connection is able to assist. It also helps that some customers are in The Industry. Soon movie and TV stars are sporting her clothing on red carpets while high-powered fashion writers and designers are asking her “who are you?” She is now the “somebody” she was supposed to be, even if her bourgeois mother recoils at her daughter selling used clothing and her boyfriend is threatened by her success.
Director Jopson’s creative staging has Mitchell delivering staccato hand and body movements at times to emphasize her anxiety. Set designer Sibyl Wickersheimer’s clever array of hanging curtains, which slide back and forth like in a hospital ward, help Mitchell wall herself off from the help she needs, symbolizing her belief that “poverty is the suffering of disconnectedness.” These same curtains, however, soon become charming tools in Mitchell’s road to healing. Wickersheimer’s elevated platform set, with a wide white line running down the middle, is reminiscent of a runway for fashion models.
It would have been interesting to see Mitchell explore her role as a cog in an industry that exploits the insecurity of women, whose standards of beauty still skew skinny and white, and that cultivates an addiction to its products under the guise of female empowerment. Despite extolling her customers to be “your kind of pretty, your kind of cool,” that kind of pretty and cool would surely be commodified by the fashion powerhouses, whether she likes it or not.
Still, Mitchell is a crafty wordsmith, seamlessly melding dialogue, poetry, and songs to pronounced effect. She also has an engaging stage presence that ably radiates vulnerability, tenderness, and ferocity when the moment calls for them. Accompanying Mitchell is the superb cellist Ashley Ng, with arrangements by Michael Roth, which add a sublime touch to the Mitchell’s lyrics. Lily Bartenstein’s lighting offers a chiaroscuro effect at times, emphasizing the darkest parts of Mitchell’s dilemma.
The Greenway Court Theatre, 544 N. Fairfax Ave., Los Angeles; perfs Fri.-Sat., 8 pm; Sun., 7 pm; through June 19. https://greenwaycourttheatre.org/
