The Off-Broadway Theatre Review: Roundabout’s Liberation

By Ross

She stands there before us, strong and determined, but also authentically honest and vulnerable, reminding us that all of these qualities can be true simultaneously. This is a “terrible way to begin“, Lizzie also informs us, as she starts to roll back time to the year 1970 when this woman’s mother, Lizzie; unmarried, idealistic, and child-free, draws together a band of forever beautiful friends who set out to try to raise their own consciousness and ultimately, to “change the world.” Liberation, the new fantastically moving play written by playwright Bess Wohl (Grand Horizons; Barcelona) now playing at Roundabout‘s Laura Pels Theatre off-Broadway, is a captivating memory play. But not exactly. It’s also about things she doesn’t remember but is, somehow, desperate to understand. About why and how things happened. And how did this so-called liberated woman become the wife and mother whose daughter stands before us?

As delivered forth by our center stone, played with a breathtaking authenticity by the spectacular Susannah Flood (RT’s The Counter), this unnamed woman wants to both understand her mother, Lizzie, while also uncovering the secret unknown power in the ordinary, an idea and a movement we are greatly in need of today, in our own modern but real condition of a complete non-liberated “Hellscape“. As directed by the surefooted Whitney White (Broadway’s Jaja’s African Hair Braiding), Liberation finds its emotional center-court heart in the frames and functions of all these incredible women, and in the way Wohl unwraps them for us, in more ways than one (be prepared to drop your cellphones into a lockbag upon entering the theatre, for good reason).

They bare their souls to us and for us, slowly but with an urgency that elevates the basement basketball court where they gather together at a local rec center, somewhere in Ohio, weekly, and not at the most convenient time of 6pm on a school night, so we are told later on by the powerfully delivered Joanne, beautifully embodied by Kayla Davion (Broadway’s Elf). They come in as strangers, cautious but determined, finding their way in, mainly, but not only, because of Lizzie’s flyer pinned up on bulletin boards across this small town. These women bravely step into the half-circle, struggling yet determined to find community on those folding metal chairs, meticulously pulled together by set designer David Zinn (Broadway’s Kimberly Akimbo), backed up by some superb costuming by Qween Jean (PAC NYC’s Cats – The Jellicle Ball), focused lighting by Cha See (Broadway’s Oh, Mary!), and a solid sound design by Palmer Hefferan (MCC’s Shit. Meet. Fan.). And it isn’t easy to get there, we are told, and it sure isn’t easy to find what they are looking for in that space that smells like men. Literally, and figuratively.

Flood’s smart, finely tuned performance is the key that draws us in, talking to us directly about her mother, Lizzie, and the time before this activist became a wife and mother. “Are American women screwed forever?” she asks us, as we all sit, acknowledging that the world continues to be “shit“, and she, and hopefully all of us in that enraptured audience, can’t abide by it, back then and now. Flood expertly guides us back, introduces us to Lizzie and all these amazing women, and attempts to process their communion. Liberation finds the structuring to move in and back through time and framing, both being her modern-day self and the woman Lizzie was before she became a wife and mother. They line up before us, walking out with a sense of purpose that feels powerful and engaging, all before diving into the meeting where they, one by one, introduce themselves to each other, baring their nervous souls for us, and we are hypnotized. They are all exquisite creations, overflowing with personality and qualities that draw us to them wholeheartedly. And each one finds their moment to truly shine from the inside out.

They gather together and try hard to be there for each other, through the difficult act of consensus thinking and idealizing. Deliciously portrayed by Betsy Aidem (Broadway’s Prayer for the French Republic), Marge holds our attention, giving a solid and grounded foundation to the group while also unleashing all the pent-up frustration that is bound up inside her traditional role. The seasoned activist, Celeste, powerfully embodied by the fantastic Kristolyn Lloyd (ATC’s Blue Ridge), gives fortified power to her strong but tense upright positioning. She’s a tower of strength, but with some cracks chipped into her stance by a sick mother who doesn’t see her. Isidora, captivatingly well-played by Irene Sofia Lucio (Broadway’s Slave Play), magnificently interrupts the flow with her Italian passion and determination, causing disruption that stems from her family lore, while Susan, played solidly by Adina Verson (Broadway’s Indecent), gives us a different brand of radicalized bravery. She’s there to upend the status quo while also shimmering with a fragile honesty and a hidden need for care. The young, and determined Dora, fascinatingly well-played by Audrey Corso (2ST’s Mary Page Marlowe), is the one who stumbles in, looking for a different type of gathering, but remains and blooms like no other.

Each and everyone is powerfully embodied in their own particular precise and perfect way. It’s hard to describe the epic quality of their honest engagement, and how Wohl expertly weaves their stories together, while also giving Flood’s character ample moments to try to wrap herself around how the world impacted and interacted with this band of captivating women, especially her mother, Lizzie. The two-act, two-and-a-half-hour play delivers us smartly into its interval, after sneakily introducing us to Lizzie’s soon-to-be father, Bill, charmingly delivered by the handsome Charlie Thurston (NYTW’s Here There Are Blueberries). It’s almost effortless how Wohl leaves us with the same complicated questions that haunt Lizzie, and I couldn’t wait to get back into the room to see where this personal story, blending with the history of the women’s movement for Liberation, finds its way home.

This pseudo-memory play unpacks all the scars and ugliness of the unfair world that these women are subjected to, while also trying to uncover levels of political and personal engagement that seemed impossible to navigate back then, and now. It’s tenderly and honestly written, expertly unpacking secret dilemmas and complicated constructs that weigh on their collective souls; on Lizzie, her pack of activist friends, and her modernized daughter who stands before us. Liberation captivates us with all the details and layers that engage their hearts and minds, and ours. The details are all there to be drunk in and cherished, as we join Wohl’s stand-in, a playwright whose mother, Lizzie, has recently died leaving her with more questions than answers. And in those delicately written Joanne and Margo-assisted moments, Liberation finds its true and clear beating heart, overflowing with so much love, fury, pain, and grief., that it’s hard to explain. The levels of emotional engagement that flow from that stage in Wohl’s expertly delivered play astounds. It’s liberating and glorious, even if Liberation doesn’t find all of the exact solutions to problems too large for one play to address. Other plays I have seen this season have been good, but this play is on a whole different level. Go see it. For your soul, your heart, and your sense of community. I needed those women on the day I saw Liberation. They gave me some hope on a day, and time, overflowing with darkness.