In The Next Room or The Vibrator Play, by Sarah Ruhl opened at the New Pheonix Theatre, and it is a wonderful confection of a play. Ms. Ruhl is understandably the recipient of a MacArtuhr “Genius Award”. Nicely directed by Robert Waterhouse this exploration of sex and the sexes in the 1880’s America is an eye opening tour of the confinements and inhibitions suffered by Victorian women, and the curious (and electrifying) medical treatments which arose in the postbellum era to alleviate the maladies which such social restrictions caused.
The play revolves around the home and office (terrific set by Dyan Burlingame) of Dr. and Mrs. Givings, an ideal couple whose well appointed house, split between a living room and the office in the “next room”, has been modernized with new-fangled electricity. Mr. Edison’s miraculous new invention provides the juice for electric lights, an electric doorbell and the good doctor’s collection of medical instruments, including electric vibrators, which are the basis of the doctor’s treatment for “hysteria”, the catch-all diagnosis applicable to all sorts of female problems such as depression, insomnia, and loss of appetite for food or sex.
Dr. Givens, wonderfully played by Christian Brandjes, is a man of pure science, but he is also kind and gentle. His better half, Mrs. Givens is effusive, prone to outbursts and great curiosity. Katie White breathes the perfect life into this character. Mrs. Givens had recently given birth to their daughter, but the baby is losing weight as Mrs. Givens is unable to produce sufficient milk to nurse the child. This is the ultimate failure for a female, and it weighs heavily upon Mrs. Givens. The addition of a wet-nurse will change their world.
Meanwhile, the doctor’s practice hums along, as it were. Enter Mr. and Mrs. Daldry, an unhappily married couple. Shrouded in head to toe clothing, blocking out all light, Mrs. Daldry is a textbook case of hysteria. She is nervous, obsessive, malnourished, and decidedly frigid. Kelly Meg Brennan hits the perfect pitch here. She transmits Mrs. Daldry’s dysfunction and unhappiness in masterful waves of neurosis, alternately pathetic and hysterically funny, the audience falls hard for Mrs. Daldry. Her “re-awakening”, which is triggered by the power of the well placed vibrator, is pure comedy genius. Kudos Kelly Meg! Kudos!
Richard Lambert’s Mr. Daldry is a cad. He is selfish, sexist, wanton, demanding, cruel, and completely unaware of it. He is the perfect Robber Baron in an age totally dominated by his gender and class. For Mr. Daldry, his behavior is merely normal, and so it was.
The doctor’s assistant, Annie, is the arch-typical spinster. Unlucky in love, subservient in class, she exists only as another tool in the doctor’s array of instruments. Yet underneath her cool demeanor there lurks a keen intellect and a hidden passion, she has a genuine gift for human connection. Annie is a metaphor for Victorian womanhood, an iceberg above and a volcano below, in another time she would have run a whole hospital. Wendy Hall strikes a flawless balance between the hard survivalist and the sensitive loner in her portrayal of Annie.
Fortunately for the Givings, the Daldry’s African-American housemaid Elizabeth has recently lost her infant son, a tragedy which has left Elizabeth heavy with milk. She takes on the role of wet nurse with dignity and compassion. She is, literally, saving the life of the Givings’ infant. Elizabeth is sensible and moral, and while she is attentive to the social conventions, she is, in her working class strata, less confined and more attuned to nature than her upper class counterparts. Danica Riddick offers a marvelously textured and sensitive portrayal here. Her monologue concerning the conflicts and emotions which arise from nursing another’s child is also flawless.
The last element to complete this social circle is the artist Leo Irving. A dreamer and bon vivant, (thanks to daddy’s dime,) Leo is a handsome young man whose heart was broken by a callous Italian beauty whom he met while studying art in Florence. He can no longer paint, nor even hold a brush. Apparently more than Mr. Irving’s spirit was left limp. While the doctor rarely treats the male version of hysteria, he had invented the perfect device for the occasion. The “Chattanooga Vibrator” is designed to stimulate the prostate, and indeed it has a most salutary effect upon Mr. Irving, who begins painting again with great vigor. Patrick Cameron’s youthful zeal as the budding artist and his perfect “double take” offer some of the best comedic moments of the night.
As the vibrator restores the afflicted, all sorts of passion is unleashed. Mr. Daldry makes a pass at Mrs. Givens. Mr. Irving, who insists on painting the wet nurse as the Madonna, makes a pass at Elizabeth. Mrs. Daldry makes an unwitting pass at Annie, Annie makes a knowing pass at Mrs. Daldry. Mrs. Givens makes a pass at Mr. Irving, who makes for passage to Paris. Finally, Dr. Givens, who with great patience has tolerated his patients and spouse’s odd behavior allows the newly liberated Mr. Givens to seduce him, in the snow no less!
The play creates a whole world unto itself, and this production is resolute in its adherence to the formalities of the day. Couples address each other as “Mr.” or “Mrs.”, even in private conversation. The women’s dresses are cocoons of silk and ruffles, the perfect straight jackets for the a guilded cage in the Guilded Age. (Great costumes all around, by the way, by Caitlin McLeod.)
The upshot of this repressed social structure is the inability (or possibly unwillingness, as the author notes) of the participants to communicate. Silence equals safety and if ignorance is the price they pay, then that is the price for security and social assurance. The most basic human needs are rarely discussed.
The ladies are befuddled by their mechanically induced vibrator ecstasy. Mrs. Givings and Mrs. Daldry cannot understand their opposite reactions to the same sensation, one is invigorated, the other stupefied. When Elizabeth, unencumbered by the overarching confinements of an upper crust marriage, suggests that the feeling the white ladies describe are akin to those of a healthy sexual relation with one’s spouse – it is a theory which induces gales of laughter from the society mavens. That kind of uninhibited demonstration could never be seen in front of one’s husband – no-no-no-never-never-never! Not ever! They would die of embarrassment. The very thought that their orgasmic release was sexual was beyond comprehension.
It is almost unbelievable that such ignorance could so dominate a whole society, a whole era for that matter. And yet we live in an age when President Reagan would not utter the word “aids” while thousands died, and even today, leading politicians can claim that vaccines cause mental retardation and their followers believe them. Silence is still dangerous. Ignorance, and fear, are still a powerful weapons.
Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, In The Next Room or The Vibrator Play is tremendously entertaining, with great cracks made at the expense of the Irish, the French, artists and poets, and really anyone residing outside the Men’s Club. Even elephants and dogs suffer electrocution as men explore the power of electricity in the dawn of the industrial age. All will be made well with electricity, modern life will manifest a new Golden Age. Through a distant mirror. Ms. Ru
hl allows us to see ourselves, a link to our own humanity. It is very well done and well worth a look.
hl allows us to see ourselves, a link to our own humanity. It is very well done and well worth a look.
In The Next Room or The Vibrator Play at The New Pheonix Theatre | Directed by Robert Waterhouse Sept. 16 – Oct. 9, 2011