The Insurgents: Theater review by Helen Shaw
Some of Lucy Thurber's most compelling writing to date happens in The Insurgents, her uneven tale of a woman overcome by violence and injustice—in short, the modern United States. The drama begins with a clever device, as actor Cassie Beck, brandishing a shotgun, introduces herself to the audience and chats with us about our own experience with firearms. Since the play itself is unstable (when does it begin?), it helps us empathize with Beck's deranged character, Sally, who will soon find herself sitting at her family's kitchen table, carrying on conversations with Nat Turner (Craig muMs Grant), Harriet Tubman (April Matthis), John Brown (Dan Butler) and Timothy McVeigh (Aaron Roman Weiner).
If that last name gives you pause, it may be because Thurber is treading on dangerous ground, equating antislavery rebels with the Oklahoma City bomber. But Sally has sunk deep into her studies of those who shed blood to water the tree of liberty, and so she's willing to listen to anyone. Now she prowls her kitchen (nicely designed by Raul Abrego) with the family shotgun, terrifying her dad (Butler) and brother (Weiner) and badgered by her phantoms, though she—and they—don't seem quite clear on what they're persuading her to do.
Thurber returns to her constant theme: the limitations and poverty of her home, rural New England. Sally's father spouts racist claptrap, and Sally tries to explain, apologize, contextualize and persuade him otherwise. Her most beloved mentors are her track coach (Matthis, always so wonderful) and a chef (Grant) she once worked for in Detroit, and we see how having a coterie of people who have loved her—white and black—hasn't helped Sally find her way through the world. Can she bring the groups together? Her mind frays under the pressure.
The acting throughout is extremely fine, though Beck runs into some trouble with the character's wild swings from sympathetic everywoman to nut. And the play feels unfinished. It sets up a situation of real tension and includes some lovely scenes, but it doesn't have a set of events in mind—no actions except jeremiads and flashbacks. In fact, the climax of the play is Sally's emotional breakdown, in which everyone, real and imaginary, assures Sally that yes, she is loved and not alone. It's unpleasant to have a work so clear (at first) about the scope of the problems in our country turn suddenly into therapy theater.
The most disappointing gesture of all is the play's final one, in which the actors ask us to join them in singing Creedence Clearwater Revival's “Long as I Can See the Light.” It's a feature of the script, so you can't blame director Jackson Gay, who neatly balances a sense of outrage with Sally's whining tone. Yet surely Gay or someone should have objected to taking this hairpin turn. You simply cannot go from sic semper tyrannis to “Kumbaya.”—Helen Shaw
Bank Street Theater (see Off Broadway). By Lucy Thurber. Directed by Jackson Gay. With Cassie Beck. Running time: 1hr 40mins. No intermission.