By Jennifer Beasley.
‘I am beautiful.’
Playwright José Rivera (The Motorcycle Diaries), Oscar nominee and twice Obie award winner with a list of plays as long as my arm, explores relationships in this beautiful and intense 100-minute play showing at the Red Stitch Theatre.
This well-crafted two-hander is set in Queens, New York. The old, peeling walls and opaque windows grimed with dirt (set by Hahnie Goldfinch) reflect the state of 65-year-old Aislin, whose name, as stated by the robot carer, Stacy, means dream. Now, let’s pause a minute. Writers of Rivera’s ilk do not use words idly. Everything matters.
When viewing this play it pays to remember that. This is a verbose play, that explores the lost dreams and opportunities of an aging woman, whose acrid tongue hides the fear and loneliness of a woman unable to reach out to anyone.
Beautifully acted by Caroline Lee (June, The Dressmaker), she inhabits this eloquent New Yorker as if she had been born for the role. Truly magnificent, the descriptive language of her dialogue colours the world she inhabits, giving insight into a nimble and evocative mind.
As a foil to Aislin’s tirades and withdrawals, Lucy Ancell (Force of Nature-Dry 2), attired in a nurse-white jumpsuit, provides the level-headedness, calmness and humour in her interactions with Aislin to secure acceptance, and a level of understanding of the human condition. A feat both characters want in their own ways.
Although touted as an examination of ‘how we live, die, and form our sense of self in a world where the line between humanity and machine is blurring by the second ‘(YOUR NAME MEANS DREAM 2024 — Red Stitch Actors’ Theatre) it actually has more to do with the relationship with the self and the acceptance of our own inner beauty than man/robot scenarios.
I say this because the voice overs of the radio/TV referencing hackers, people destroying robots and the news bulletin on the Papal discussion on artificial souls don’t add anything to the play, except as an interlude for the actors to gather their momentum for the next wonderful verbal volley.
Although we see Stacey yearn for the knowledge of what it is like to be truly human, she demonstrates her complete lack of understanding with the scene of her past use (and abuse) as a sex worker, the character works best as a construct to reflect the mental state and tastes of Aislin. Beginning the play by pointing and stating, ‘You. You and me,’ Stacey is already human in a way, as her ‘life’ is tied with Aislin. This is their fate.
Together, the two actors circle each other, teaching, dancing and fighting as both start to bring out the best in one another. A far cry from the beginning when Aislin states that ‘five ladies quit on me in last year. So, they send the machines. The f*king, soulless, plastic f*kin’ machines.’
Aislin’s abhorrence of machines, or ‘toasters’ as she calls them, is only matched by her inability to form close relationships. A heavy drinker and medicated up to the eyeballs after the death of her husband, she has an uneasy relationship to her son, Roberto, whom we hear via Stacey, acting as a conduit. Now isn’t that interesting?
Unable to communicate with the outside world as Roberto only allows all communication to flow through the robot (a fantastic turn by Ancell who transforms into a Yankie, lip-licking hood), we also find out that potential financial abuse is occurring. Helpless, Aislin refuses to admit that her beloved son would harm her in any way.
The narrative unfolds through periods of heartbreak and joy, as Stacey manages to lead Aislin out of the wilderness of her loneliness and transforms her back into a beautiful woman. And, in turn, Stacey discovers her own beauty.
And yet. Happiness is so fleeting in a human life.
Excellent direction from Kat Henry, sensitive as always, and great mood lighting from Amelia Lever-Davidson with sound supplied by Ian Moorhead, this play delivers an emotional punch that will leave you looking for your own beautiful in life.
Played to a full house, I highly recommend readers to see this play, if only to worship at the feet of the amazing Caroline Lee!
Your Name Means Dream plays at Red Stitch Theatre until Saturday November 24th, 2024.
