REVIEW: The Moors (Faction of Fools)
Commedia dell’arte has a thriving home here in DC: meet the Faction of Fools, a smaller company based out of the Capitol Hill Arts Workshop. If you’ve been in the scene longer than I have, I’m sure you already know of them; but I recently made my first visit to the Georgian black box in Southeast to catch their buzzy production of Jen Silverman’s The Moors before it closes this weekend.
Book
Silverman’s book is a Bronte-inspired romp with a healthy mix of drama, comedy, and horror. The gothic dialogue keeps a low resonant frequency throughout its two acts, and is matched, mostly, by its characters. Primarily, we follow a noble family — led by the uptight and controlling Agatha — as the arrival of Governess Emilie brings a purpose unknown. See, she was led here by a series of letters expressing romantic attraction by the elder brother of Agatha, who mysteriously isn’t around. Hudley, the naive and diary-obsessed younger sister, and Marjory, the diseased and pregnant maid, are no help at explaining the purpose either. Alongside this is the nigh-unrelated narrative involving the “dangerous” family dog, a Mastiff, and his meeting of an injured Moor-Hen, and the unlikely friendship they forge. While I found this story simplistic and lightweight, I was assuredly involved with the slow-burning dynamic between the four women of the house, especially as their motivations become clearer and their personalities splinter away from generic royal archetypes. 7/10
Acting
Keeping everything tied together in minor key is the beautifully discordant Arika Thames’ Agatha; their character’s ulterior motives are plainly existent, yet the thread relies nobody else — including Jasmine Proctor’s innocently clever Emilie — picking it up until the last second. The aloof and friendly dynamic between the prickly Marjory (effortlessly strung-together by Becca Ballinger) and melodramatic Huldey (Natalia Fyfe, u/s) was an additional highlight. The way Ballinger especially croaked out every “yes, ma’am” and other sarcastic agreement scratched a linguistic itch in my brain that I appreciated (Side note: I’m still salty about missing her in Honey Trap). 9/10
Production
Always leave it to the black boxes to deliver the goods. Co-artistic director Francesca Chilcote takes the reins for this production, and hones in the spirit of commedia like you’d expect: that is to say quite well. Starting with the painterly-textured sets and backdrops by Johnny Weissgerber, the vibes are consistent as Kenny Neal’s rich sound design and William D’Eugenio’s lighting create hurricanes of sullen humor. As standard with commedia, the characters are all masked — which is by far the most outstanding element, as Tara Cariaso has custom-made each one based on plaster molds of the performer’s faces. There is so much personality in each crease and carve that I almost wanted to buy one myself, as a trinket. But I guess it would be sort of missing the mojo if not paired with Alison Johnson’s bold costumes. 9/10
Viz
The sticky fens of the titular region lurch out from the stage to meet your feet at the front row. It’s a solid boundary from the main staging, but still allows some wiggle room to feel like there is a lingering potential for action. The royal lightning sets the mood, and the grimy program aesthetics clash well with the bold, hot pink text. 7/10
Verdict
The Moors is a nervy piece of meta-gothic comedy that boils to life with excellent production design and a terrific cast. 32/40
