The first American woman to rocket into outer space, Dr. Sally Ride, significantly figures into Dr. Ride’s American Beach House, but she does not materialize until the magical conclusion of Liza Birkenmeier’s subtly poignant new play.
Premiering on Tuesday at Greenwich House in a discerning and disarming production staged by director Katie Brook for Ars Nova, which commissioned the play, Dr. Ride’s American Beach House studies several women whose mundane, even repressed, existence contrasts against the astronaut’s soaring achievement.
Composed for the most part in an easygoing realistic style that continuously flows over 90 real-time minutes, Birkenmeier’s insightful fly-on-the-wall drama observes four women who gather on a tar beach rooftop for beers one twilight in the summer of 1983. As they idly converse, a voice on the radio details the next day’s countdown for Ride’s historic journey aboard the Challenger.
Here in shabby South St. Louis, Harriet and Matilda have been tight chums since they were Catholic schoolgirls. College graduates and wannabe poets in their early 30s, they currently work dead end jobs as waitresses. An expansive live wire, Matilda (“I can’t help it that I’m a Leo”) is more or less a married mom. The seemingly reserved Harriet is preoccupied over her estranged mother, dying down in Florida.
As they talk, Harriet and Matilda share a casual body language that implies they are former lovers who might still be physically intimate. Unsaid feelings vibrate beneath their chitchat. A wild tale that Harriet spills about a recent fling she enjoyed with a man encountered at her mom’s hospice suggests that her sexuality is open. Or perhaps it is open for something of a change.
Joining them later on the roof is Meg, an affable butch-type lesbian (“I don’t hate men; they only make me homicidal”). A new acquaintance, Meg proceeds to amiably flirt with both women. Appearing only briefly is Norma, Harriet’s aging spinster of a worrywart landlady.
Expect no plot-driven story here, but rather a familiar situation that offers tender portrayals of different queer mindsets of some 35 years ago. A newcomer playwright who displays a gift for natural-sounding dialogue, Birkenmeier crafts striking monologues for the characters, such as one regarding Harriet’s resentment of her mother’s second family (which many an actor will use for future audition material).
The mostly low-keyed work is beautifully acted under Brook’s direction. Kristen Sieh lends a prim face and a pensive quality to Harriet, whose still waters run surprisingly deep. Although often growling with vocal fry, Erin Markey energizes Matilda with a mischievous life-of-the-party vitality. Mannishly garbed by designer Melissa Ng as Meg, Marga Gomez gives her cheerful character a friendly nature. Susan Blommaert, always a treasure, paints a wonderfully detailed, droll cameo portrait of the quirky Norma.
The director and her designers provide apt and supportive visuals. Kimie Nishikawa’s modest rooftop setting glows with Oona Curley’s evolving sunset lighting before turning moonlit blue for the play’s unexpectedly romantic conclusion. Ben Williams’ sound design intermittently contributes effective atmosphere.
This conversational drama’s lack of story—and possibly its queer content—may not appeal to every theatergoer, but Dr. Ride’s American Beach House remains a sensitive work by an up-and-coming playwright. Ars Nova, a company that discovers and nurtures new artists, adds Birkenmeier’s name to the roster of young dramatists whose future plays can be pleasantly anticipated.
