Only some weeks after wannabe-king-of-the-realm Donald J. Trump decreed that henceforth there would be only two genders—thereby eliminating any further need to announce appropriate pronouns—comes the counteroffensive. It’s an answer play, perhaps even the answer play: D. A. Mindell’s exhaustively titled and not entirely worked out On the Evolutionary Function of Shame.
The ambitious work presents the Adam (Jordan Barbour) and Eve (Elizabeth Ramos) of Genesis as they haltingly accustom themselves to their brave and daunting new world. They show up at first in more greenery than just fig leaves (Hahnji Jang the costumer) and intermittently reappear right up to their grieving over Abel’s death at his brother Cain’s hand.
They share their challenging time with a contemporary Adam 2 (Cody Sloan) and Eve 2 (Kayli Carter), twins at odds with each other over the sometimes-baffling subject of eugenics, more particularly gender dysphoria. With lab partner Margot (Imani Russell, who uses they/them in her bio) Eve 2 has completed an about-to-be-published study on ending gender dysphoria.
The plot problem is that twin Adam 2, as a trans (woman to man), whose uterus is now occupied by a fetus, objects to his twin’s proposal to fiddle with DNA. He (he/she assignments will not be otherwise used in this review) is upset by the very prospect of the study’s appearance and goes about Mindell’s intermissionless 90-minutes trying to convince his sister to call off publication, a fevered request she resists.
On the Evolutionary Function of Shame unfolds in three places—in Eden (scenic designer You-Shin Chen places a large hedge-like “Eden” prominently for much of the proceedings); in the Eve 2-Margot lab; and in the living room Adam 2 shares with his lover Fox (Ryan Jamaal Swain), who spends much of his time trying to understand why Adam 2 and he are in such intense conflict over the impending birth.
Crucially, Adam 2 has previously miscarried and so, quite understandably, is concerned about the new pregnancy. What is not so easily understood—this is Mindell’s problem—is why Adam 2 is as consistently outraged as he is. His undiminished fury after Mindell has established the dramatic environment does become the dominant aspect of what is a piece so articulate that it’s articulate to a fault.
Adam 1 and Eve 1 are only getting used to language—their shared grief in a late sequence, with Eve claiming everything unfortunate is her apple-eating fault is Mindell’s most moving scene. On the other hand, Adam 2, Eve 2, Margot, and Fox speak with the tongues of expert orators.
As a result, scene after scene eventually acquire the feel not of conversation but debate. This eventuality may not be much of a surprise. Mindell is writing from a desire to confront forcefully the controversial contemporary trans subject. This, of course, is occurring at a time when the T has been (officially, unofficially?) eliminated from the LBGTQ designation.
Adam 2 is so much the enraged protagonist that actor Sloan (no pronouns after his name in the bios) is the play’s unquestionable cynosure. Cody’s fulminating is wonderfully realized as he charges into Eve 2’s lab and as he sits agitatedly on his living-room couch vying with Fox for understanding. He raves on no matter where he is.
Indeed, Adam 2 carries on like a fiery street preacher to the last second, even seeming to be continuing his harangues at the final blackout. As a matter of odd fact, at the performance this reviewer attended the final blackout seemed to take the cast by surprise. (It was almost as if a late script alteration had caught someone at the lighting board off guard).
With director Jeff McLeod keeping the high-class discussions revved, every one of the cast members maintains the intensity of the charged exchanges, even if the exchanges aren’t always easily followed. Each of the cast members is up to the animatedly task of disputing as William F. Buckley once was with Norman Mailer on the beloved Firing Line.
And now to the “Shame” in Mindell’s title. He only refers to shame in one late-breaking Adam 2 speech:
“Maybe I got really fucking good at taking that shame I had, this horrible, cannibalizing shame about the body that built itself around me without my say, that I let build itself around me without doing anything about it and pressing it into a little ball I could hide behind my uvula. Do you think I would’ve been a better person if I didn’t have to carry that ball behind my uvula all the time?”
Though it’s hardly a brief outcry, it lands as insufficient, shame being such a debilitating psychological affliction. Mindell’s title seems to promise a much more explicit delve into the limitless, magnetic topic.
In all, Mindell is to be congratulated and thanked for a fervent screed on behalf of continuing trans presence, even though his energetic fervor often obscures his theatrical vision.
On the Evolutionary Function of Shame opened February 26, 2025 at Signature Center and runs through March 9. Tickets and information: 2st.com
