Heather Christian’s Animal Wisdom is a beast of a very different stripe. It is a musical experience that is so deeply personal, so remarkably original, so impossible to classify, it defies standard critique. Christian herself acknowledges in the program notes that “it’s neither musical, nor play, nor anything specific.” And then she adds “It’s my life story, as clearly as I can tell it (which is not very clearly at all).” And that explains the difficulty of passing judgment on a work which some will find utterly transcendent while others, noting the show’s disjointed ideas, will simply tire of trying to make sense of it all.
To clarify…or further confuse, Christian describes the show as “a requiem within a requiem…an active ritual, letting go of supernatural/psychological/spiritual/actual trauma in front of an audience.” She then concludes by saying: “We try with the tools that we were given.”
This is where it’s hard to quibble with the show’s detractors because the tools that Christian was given – her musical talents – are truly quite extraordinary. The show is further aided by yet another impressive “tool”: Kenita R. Miller’s bravura performance embodying the author as “H.” Miller is an absolute powerhouse on stage, singing and acting with a level of commitment that I can best describe as spiritual possession.
“Possession” may just be the operative word here because Christian devised the show’s two intermission-less hours as an attempt to conjure up the ghosts in her life. She believes that she has a strong connection to “her dead” and explains that a “Requiem Mass” is done in the Catholic Church for the specific purpose of putting a newly departed soul in repose. It’s mostly a solo performance in which Miller plays all the ghosts.
Her “dead” are introduced haphazardly; and the narrative, if you could call it that, is not easy to follow. She mostly draws from her matrilineal Catholic ancestry in New Orleans. When she sings “Love Is in the Garden”, she’s literally referencing her grandmother, Heloise, who dropped dead in her garden. Her other grandmother, Geraldine, is a “red bird” because “she threw her ghost into a cardinal”; and she says her grandfather’s ghost lives in her car. They’re all shadowy figures (fittingly), but some of them come across as refreshingly insightful. Among the other assorted spirits and poltergeists are her piano teacher, Doris – quite the feisty character; and Ella, insisting that you carry your ancestors with you, reappears at show’s end to impart some sage advice.
The show is mostly sung through which could be seen as both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because the music – a glorious kaleidoscope of blues, gospel, folk, and hymn – is so rhythmically rich and vibrant, it could easily stand alone as a concert. And very special mention to the six performers in the band led by Music Director Alexandra Crosby on piano: Francesca Dawls (violin), El Beh (cello), Caro Moore (percussion), Kris Saint-Louis (bass), Zack Zaromatidis (guitar). They’re not only excellent musicians, they each have their own roles to play.
But as splendid as it all sounds, the lyrics are difficult to discern. That’s partly due to the acoustical imbalance, but also the songs are loaded with metaphorical abstractions that get lost in the singing. There’s much wisdom in the writing but as performed, we miss a lot of it. Then again, maybe that’s the point since Animal Wisdom is presented as a futile effort to unravel some of life’s most daunting mysteries.
There’s clearly a lot going on in the show, and Emmie Finckel’s scenic design delivers with a full complement of knick knacks perched throughout the theater signifying the ghostly eccentricities. The audience is positioned on two opposite sides of the theater overlooking the playing space set up as a patchwork of floral gardens. And Masha Tsimring surrounds the entire theater with crude lights that flicker on and off to create the appropriate haunted spell.
Animal Wisdom could afford some cutting. The first half is filled with a hodgepodge of random observations. We’re told that you must not verbally deny a ghost that you know is in the room; Coca-Cola works better than sacramental wine, and “what they don’t tell you about dying is that you lose chronology. ” All of that is often repeated and it can try your patience. But by the second half, director Keenan Tyler Oliphant takes us to church and it all comes together in a moving crescendo.
The last 20 minutes is staged in total darkness. In the script, Christian explains that “the show is not a show anymore. The show is a ritual grieving and a real blackout is necessary.” At that point, a choir of several dozen singers enters and the music takes over, swallowing the room with a sense of communal reverie. It ends with a fugue in six parts; and by the time we’re all asked to join in a chorus of Hosannahs, we’re possessed by the transformative power of the music; and it’s impossible to resist.
Animal Wisdom opened May 19, 2026, at Signature Center and runs through June 14. Tickets and information: signaturetheatre.org
