Halloween is still a month away, but La MaMa already exhibits a thinking person’s horror show with the world premiere of And Then We Were No More, which opened there on Sunday. A stark and dark new drama about personal eradication in a not so far-out future, And Then We Were No More is forged by accomplished artists who make much of its dreadful, dystopian potential. The playwright is Tim Blake Nelson, whose The Grey Zone drama about workers at Auschwitz still haunts me nearly 30 years later. The director is Mark Wing-Davey, whose staging of Caryl Churchill’s supernatural The Skriker at the Public Theater remains a vivid memory from 1996.
Okay, let’s forget the twentieth century. Let’s look ahead some years from now when the Kafka-esque story for And Then We Were No More unfolds within the anonymity of what is disclosed to be a pervasively totalitarian society. The two-act drama largely remains confined to an unnamed penal complex, where an unnamed Official (Scott Shepherd) interviews an unnamed Lawyer (Elizabeth Marvel) about representing an Inmate (Elizabeth Yeoman), already condemned for murdering her family. The issue in question is the manner in which the Inmate is to be executed.
It soon becomes obvious the outcome of the trial already is decided. Much as she balks, the Lawyer cannot refuse to argue the case because she has been selected to do this by a “system” that possesses and processes everyone’s complete data and history. It grows evident that everything in this future existence is artificially determined in favor of what yields the most efficient outcome. Nameless others involved are an Analyst (Jennifer Mogbock), whose mega-company invests in correctional facilities and the Machinist (Henry Stram), responsible for running the killing devices claimed to be pain-free.
As spectators enter the 225-seat auditorium – the seating is tiered at a stadium-type pitch – a preshow curtain vaguely reflects everyone. When the trial scene proceeds, the audience is addressed as if they were jurors. People who listen up may scarily feel as if they were existing in a not so brave new world.
Appreciating Nelson’s smart, thought-provoking but also noticeably talky play, however, is through comprehending the moral subtleties of this all too believable totalitarian society coldly dominated by technology. To inattentive ears, some of the philosophical conversations between characters may register merely as heavy yada-yada-yada, in spite of excellent performances and the foreboding splendor of scenic designer David Meyer’s industrial-strength environs. Taking advantage of the La MaMa space’s looming 30 foot-high ceilings, different killing machines appear; formidable apparatus involving coils of orange tubing, vertical shafts and windowed cells eventually through which the Inmate will be seen writhing in an awful vaporization process.
Previous to that harrowing sequence, what proves more painful is a quiet session between the Lawyer and the Inmate, a trembling, pathetic, bird-like creature able to communicate only in tiny gasps of words. The upshot will be a realization that the Inmate has been tortured into a mental breakdown by medical procedures while incarcerated. The nearly poetic quality of the Inmate’s fragmentary speech sharply contrasts against the legal and bureaucratic jargon heard elsewhere.
Obviously an unsettling drama, And Then We Were No More is staged by Wing-Davey and capably performed by the ensemble in mostly a cool, slightly abstract style meant to focus attention on the play’s cautionary message about technology and totalitarian existence. The pervasive, nearly clinical chill thaws in sudden bursts of humanity a few times, as in the poignant scene when Marvel’s stoic Lawyer understands why Yeoman’s damaged Inmate gave “sugar for end times” to her family. The director’s typical precision with fostering effective mood through visual and aural means is executed very well by expert designers Marina Draghici (costume), Reza Behjat (lighting) and Henry Nelson & Will Curry (composer and sound).
Produced by La MaMa and Carol Ostrow of Stop the Wind Theatricals, And Then We Were No More is possibly aiming for an extended run elsewhere. Shaping the text to an intermission-free length would make this worthy and timely drama even more compelling.
