REVIEW: Problems Between Sisters (Studio Theatre)

Studio. Bestie. Y’all good over there? You haven’t touched your Shargai Theatre since what feels like forever. Sure, the Mead Theater is perfectly intimate and capable, but I want to see you guys go big again. Not that I think this newest premiere, Problems Between Sisters, would have worked there, but just an observation. Speaking of…

Book

Being described as a “loose” adaptation of Sam Shepard’s True West, the 1980’s drama exploring toxic masculinity via two headstrong brothers, the piece could actually not be any tighter of one. In what feels like a bar-for-bar retelling of the piece, the only major device that playwright Julia May Jonas has changed are the sexes — instead of two brothers, it’s two sisters, Jess and Rory. (This is part of Jonas’ series of reframing American classics away from traditionally male lenses.) Jess is an artist, stowing away in her aunt’s Vermont cabin as she works on pieces for a solo show, when her estranged vagrant sister nine years her junior invades. Both are very close to term in what can only be described as a bout of competitive pregnancy: Jess via her implied-to-be-loveless marriage and Rory via some guy from Oklahoma City. Rory arrives fresh off of a squat-in at an abandoned factory outside of said city, having hitchhiked back east. She’s grimy, greasy, and gregarious, all things Jess isn’t. The two spend most of Act I bickering about their lives to that point: the acrimonious relationships with their parents (who are tantalizingly mentioned but never receive a payoff), their interactions with midwives (or lack thereof), and the ethics of falsifying your predicaments on the street to get a quick buck. These sisters definitely hate each other, but they’re written in such ways that you’re meant to think they just have a typical, sometimes spatty relationship. This is maintained even when Jess’s agent Anita (whose tiring dialogue is 85% composed of the word “fucking”) arrives, indirectly spinning a web of pure malignance betwixt the two. At this point, things quickly turn acerbic and unhinged, carrying on into Act II; it’s entertaining, but I struggled to be moved by it. To think that Jess, the smart, well-to-do artist would just accept all the torture Rory has developed for her by this point is asinine. I don’t blame Jonas for this directly, since it is Shepard’s premise, but I will add that the intermittence of being pregnant holds less depth in their characters than I expected. Every now and then they dwell into the intricacies of femininity and pregnancy; but maybe it’s the ill-fitting prop bellies or lack of care for each other, much less a human baby, that loses my suspension of disbelief. 4/10

Acting

Stephanie Janssen (Jess) and Annie Fox (Rory) work well with what they have. Janssen allows Jess to be consumed by her stressors with minimal resistance, creating an almost comedic breakdown (I’d argue the descent is more concerning.) Fox, oozing with malfeasance, portrays Rory with fanaticism and childish distrust that contorts into ire in frightening fashion. For her limited presence — no more than 20 lines, I’d say, give or take — Nancy Robinette’s Aunt Barb creates a welcome change of pace in the final act that still persists its general sense of unease. 8/10

Production

It seems to be a trend, the whole “solid outline of light margining the stage” thing. Overdone? Yes. Fun? Still. Colin Bills uses it sparingly, which I think cleverly prevents it from being saturating. The primary device of his naturalistic lighting remains the key driver of a contrasting warmth in the environment to its cold characters — provided by the rustic materialism of Emmie Finckel’s set, which is rife with cozy detail. 8/10

Viz

The blood dripping from a watering can doesn’t exactly fill you in on…anything, really. Are they gardeners? (No.) There is a level of violence, but the other marketing elements do not seem to want to let you know that (they refer to it as funny…which it can be, sometimes). I am once again praising the homeliness of the set, because it’s one of the only things that lets a would-be audience know that there’s a familial element at play. 1/10

Verdict

The titular Sisters are not the only ones with Problems afoot, but there’s something magnetizing about watching their relationship explode in this cozy environ; like watching a train barrel off a cliff, exploding into an iridescent, oily light show. 21/40