In What the Constitution Means to Me, at the Helen Hayes, a 15-year-old girl from small-town Wenatchee, Wash.—“The Apple Capital of the World,” they call it—stands on the podium of a rural American Legion hall and delivers her debate presentation: “Casting Spells: The Crucible of the Constitution.” And that’s it.
Only that’s not it. This supposed 15-year-old is writer/actress/performance artist Heidi Schreck, 30 years later, reconstructing the speech she presented on the American Legion Oratory Contest circuit back in 1989. She was good at it, too, earning enough prize money to pay her way through college. (It was a state school, she wryly adds.) Good at it then, apparently, and wisely superb at it now.
[Read Melissa Rose Bernardo’s ★★★★★ review here.]
Schreck-the-teenager—she explains that her younger self wears a yellow blazer, when it’s off we’re seeing present-day Heidi—presents her theme in a straightforward and knowing manner, even when she innocently delineates constitutional rights which we have seen destructively and gleefully trampled on of late. Standing onstage with only a sternly milquetoast moderator (Mike, played by Mike Iveson), Heidi demonstrates how she slayed opponents with a combination of knowledge, charm, humor and an ability to cater to the debate audiences, which consisted of American Legion members. Which is to say, old white men smoking cigars.
This ability to be overly conciliatory to her so-called betters stems from a family history of abusive husbands and fathers. But that only emerges later, when the 1989 debate re-creation develops into a sharp and concise discussion of our constitutionally mandated rights to life, liberty, property, and the pursuit of all three. Rights which are altogether noble, except they are open to interpretation and reinterpretation by what has historically been nine mostly white men.
The first section of the play explains what the Constitution means, or perhaps should mean, to “us.” After which Heidi takes off the blazer, rolls up her sleeves, and examines what the Constitution means to her and, by extension, to her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. And her great-great grandmother Theressa, a German immigrant who was purchased by a Seattle logger out of a mail-order catalogue for $75 in 1879, and who died in the state mental hospital at 36 with a diagnosis of “melancholia.” Which Schreck has concluded refers to abuse, and worse.
We then return to the debate format, in which Heidi (the character) meets her match. Another debater—this time a legitimate, New York City teenager—comes on in pitched-and-determined battle. Rosdely Ciprian and Thursday Williams alternate in this role; having seen the former during the play’s run last fall at New York Theatre Workshop and the latter at the Hayes, I can tell you that both are compelling and—if appearances are correct—headed towards careers in law, politics, or justice.
The first part of the final “debate” is prepared; the second seemingly improvisatory. In fact, the final battle is explicitly written into the script. There are four alternate versions of this scene, depending on which girl is playing the role and which sides of the debate she and Heidi have been assigned by an audience volunteer. The dialogue has the ring of authenticity, having been developed and refined from actual debates between Schreck and the two girls (who have been performing the play for many months). What’s more, the script explicitly encourages the actors to improvise their arguments as they see fit, based in part on the level of audience interaction. And audience interaction is plentiful, which leads one to wonder just precisely how this play would go over in “abortion-free zones” like Schreck’s hometown of Wenatchee.
The teenagers are up to the level of Schreck; so is Iveson, who eventually steps out of his VFW uniform and contributes his own experience. Director Oliver Butler, who appears to have worked closely with Schreck in developing the project, keeps things both moving and interesting. This commercial transfer of the play is billed as “The Clubbed Thumb, True Love Productions and New York Theatre Workshop production.”
What is left unsaid is that this highly entertaining and involving play is not simply a testament to Heidi Schreck’s life-long personal relationship to the Constitution. Her expertise is not restricted to the subject matter at hand; she is clearly a talented dramatist who knows how to build a script and devise a play. Let us add that while Schreck’s performance is excellent, she has written a role that can stand very well on its own. What the Constitution Means to Me is well suited to be produced without the author on stage in regional, professional, and amateur theatres, and in the process will likely spread enlightenment across the land.
What the Constitution Means to Me opened March 31, 2019, at the Helen Hayes Theater and runs through August 24. Tickets and information: constitutionbroadway.com
