Artist Repertory Theatre: The Bed Trick by Keiko Green

The Bed Trick doesn’t want to suspend your disbelief, it seeks to challenge it. In today’s vast sea of Shakespeare retellings, playwright Keiko Green is interested in dissecting the gaps of the infamous All Well That Ends Well. Green’s take on the play finds all of its plotholes and faces them head on. 

Roommates Lulu (Madeleine Tran), Harriet (Angie Tennant), and Marianne (Sami Yacob-Andrus) stumble through relationships of every kind. A revolving door of conflict makes for constantly shifting alliances and rivalries among the ensemble. Including Lulu’s wavering boyfriend (Mac Shonher), Harriet’s sense of self, and Marianne’s own namesake. The tensions boil over as the girls find themselves deeply entangled in a web of deception and desire.

With a structure akin to reading a book, each scene further complicates and then reveals something about the play. This push and pull of the story propels it forward and keeps anxieties high. 

The play’s self aware perspective is keenly entertaining but not without its pitfalls. College freshman and theatre major Harriet, directly and indirectly speaks to the very nature of the story and its source material. The storytelling starts heavy handed, putting the show in sharply clear context. While I found certain moments bordering on over-explanation, this approach is effective for audiences needing a door into Shakespeare. Deeply baked into the script are conversations about the contradictory ideas and the inherent “moral problems” in All’s Well That Ends Well. It is these large, uncomfortable questions that give The Bedtrick its teeth, drawn out expertly by the direction of ART’s Luan Schooler.

The script requires a fluidity of space. One that allows the characters to move freely. This is especially true for Harriet as she steps in and out of narration, always bringing the story back to its integral themes of love, manipulation, and the blurred lines of Shakespearean age consent.  

The set is centered around a dorm room, bursting at the seams with typical college memorabilia. I found myself drawn to the space’s endless intricacies. The set overflows into the audience creating an edgeless landing zone for the actors. While initially the space feels cramped, quickly it opens, becoming a sort of playground for the characters to move through. 

While the story hinges off the four teens, the performance of Marianne’s parents keeps the play grounded. Soft hearted professor, Benny (Issac Lamb) battles the transition of his daughter into adulthood while reconciling his own relationships. When Marianne’s whirlwind but well-meaning mother, Anna (Claire Rigsby) shows up unannounced, the two of them hash out their divorce and dig up old wounds. Both actors deliver beautifully nuanced performances. The obvious intimacy between them adds both authenticity to the history of the story and a  perfect mirror to the Bard’s original text.

Green’s play expertly shows how to handle the darker side of Shakespeare. This production honors those intentions and pushes audiences to question canonical stories and what is really at the core of our relationships.

Fertile Ground Reviews

Greta Lau

Cretins:

She’s gonna throw it, I thought to myself during a climactic “birth” scene in George Corrin’s tantalizing new play CRETINS. The scene in question showed Miss Radio Silence, the leader of a deadly biker gang spinning her “baby” by its yarn umbilical cord. Much to my surprise I felt true delight as the doll was launched into the audience. The play is equal parts disturbing and exhilarating, a potent combination with a truly cathartic effect. 

CRETINS takes being unapologetically queer to new heights through its raw sexual energy and openly trans forward characterization. The reading took place at The High Water Mark, a bar known to me through “The Gay Barn”, a Lesbian events company that regularly hosts “Dyke Arm Wrestling” at the same location. (I hope to soon have the courage to attend such an event). The venue’s beer-stuck floors and intimate seating created an ambience perfectly fit for the play’s themes. In a room surrounded by loudly queer theater goers I found myself able to take up space. To sit comfortably front row, in a butch body I often feel forced to reduce, while in traditional theater spaces. It was this atmosphere that made me so excited to be taking part in the Fertile Ground Festival. Theater is a fluid thing and should be allowed to exist in all manners of spaces.

CRETINS doesn’t shy away from the dirty, outrageous, or obscene. The stage directions, read by the show’s brilliant playwright, detail gruesome acts of violence and murder. In many moments I puzzled over the implications of a fully staged production. What might it look to have blood and guts strewn across a stage? How might a props team approach motorcycles used as murder weapons? My brain latched onto these questions during the performance. The near impossibility of the play lended well to the stripped down reading but I can only imagine how the play’s needs might be answered through design. 

A truly wild ride from start to finish CRETINS was a wonder to witness. Underneath its harsh exterior the play gets at many complex issues currently affecting those living under US policy. The script pushes the boundaries of queerness and takes aim at American politicians. Showing what reality might look if the facades presented by those in power were wiped away and the hidden violence within this country finally brought forward.

Blue Roses:

Content Note: This review covers the graphic and devastating history of Lobotomies as it pertains to the play.

Dr. Walter Freeman, the man who pioneered the use of lobotomies in America performed his final transorbital lobotomy in 1967. Freeman’s final patient was Helen Mortensen. It was her third lobotomy by Dr. Freeman. Mortensen died of a brain hemorrhage caused by the procedure. 60 years later, Sandra De Hellen’s new play takes the story of two women under Freeman’s “care” and thoughtfully weaves them together. Rosemary Kennedy and Rose Isabel Williams, the sisters of famed men John F. Kennedy, and Tennesse Williams.

Blue Roses pulled my heart from my chest and held it out for all to see. That is how it felt sitting in the sold seats of the 21 Ten Theater, while the Roses bared their emotions and their teeth. While a packed house always seems to fill the air with a charged feeling, this performance in particular was bursting with electricity. It was a joy to see the engagement of my fellow audience members. In a testament to both the actors and the play itself, the room’s shared tension was released when the lights came up and all of us shared a collective breath. I don’t remember the last time I witnessed a show with such invested viewers.

While presented as a staged reading the artful direction of Louanne Moldovan brought the play to life. Unlike many readings I’ve seen, I didn’t feel a shred of the story was lost by lack of staging. In many moments I was so pulled into the play that the music stand held scripts all but vanished. I attended the show with my good friend who shared a similar sentiment, “Blue Roses didn’t need a full production to captivate me, the intimacy of this reading made the story feel much more alive and haunting”. Every subtle but impactful choice made in the play’s presentation kept me engaged fully. Character entrances tied in with donning of personal effects and a prop rotary phone were expertly used to bridge the gap between reading and premiere.

The play was tender and beautiful, but certainly not an easy watch. De Helen makes plain the very real atrocities performed by Freeman and endured by hundreds of patients. The placement of such high profile women at the plays center keeps it sharp in living history. These treatments now deemed barbaric were not long ago cutting edge. With this knowledge, the story stings. Perhaps the most heartbreaking reality of the play, each named patient was a woman – admitted not for namable mental conditions but for “disagreeable” behavior. It is hard to fathom how the story of a fictitious connection can hold such hard truths. Blue Roses hits every painful mark, and is exactly the kind of reminder we need to see in theatres today. 

Alarums and Excursions:

The sound of rushing water spills out of PSU’s boiler room theatre, as performer and playwright Dylan Hankins performs synchronized swimming maneuvers in a dry kiddie pool stationed in the lobby. The water, soothing and serene turned to a raucous symphony of moans and pained exclamations as Hankins beckoned us inside. Within the theatre, we were made to choose from scattered seats, either underneath piercing stage lights or mixed amongst the performers themselves. It was at that moment I knew Alarums & Excursions was going to drag me through its surreal story whether I was ready for it or not. 

The show’s script does a clever job of disguising truth in plain sight. Alarums shows a disjointed, almost caricaturized family, vacationing on the border of an active warzone. The conflict is veiled under the vague place names “thislandia” and “thatlandia” but there is no mistaking the direct commentary on current geopolitics and war that our country continues to fuel. 

The show’s metaphors are layered. Hankins uses death and sex to shock the audience while simultaneously making it impossible to look away. I sat with a growing pit in my gut as the sounds of bombs and gunfire slowly took over the plays’ soundscape. The cast performances were delightful. Each character varied and complex. This brought a perfect dissonance to the play as tension and dread mixed with humor and absurdity. 

The immersive staging and layout of the space made it easy to see and be seen. Having the chance to actively witness the reactions of the audience makes for a fundamentally different viewing experience than that of traditional proscenium houses. I saw expressions of joy, disgust, and sadness. This made the play a shared experience rather than a mere observation of story. Hankins’ script effectively made us complicit simply through our attendance. Among the seats I shared many connections, a clear testament to the plays draw with local theatre artists. A fellow PSU theater student told me after the performance, “Alarums & Excursions is absolutely shameless. Hankins somehow captures the brutality of war whilst simultaneously making the audience laugh hysterically all in under two hours. An immense call out of current politics that is unlike any play I have seen.”

I do not feel equipped to extrapolate the events of Alarums & Excursions. A fact I believe means it is exactly the type of show I needed to see. Theatre of this nature is necessary, especially on Portland stages. It functions as a way to immerse audiences in uncomfortable realities, which many have stayed distant from for far too long.