Invictus' livestreamed ''night, Mother' speaks to distressing times
“'night, Mother” - ★ ★ ★
While far from ideal, a global pandemic that has limited public gatherings, restricted business operations, shuttered entertainment venues and imposed quarantine may be an appropriate backdrop for Invictus Theatre Company's digital revival of “'night, Mother.”
Those feeling distressed under coronavirus-imposed constraints will likely disagree. While “'night, Mother” is far from the escapist entertainment many of us crave, Invictus' production of Marsha Norman's Pulitzer Prize-winning two-hander is a provocative move.
The 1982 tragedy unfolds during possibly the first - and most definitely the last - heart-to-heart a mother and daughter will ever share. Moments after it begins, 30-something Jessie announces to her mother that she intends to kill herself later that evening.
“'night, Mother” is an eloquent, ultimately wrenching play that is not for everyone. Yet I found its depiction of quiet despair deeply resonant during this time of heightened anxiety. And while suicide underpins the drama, “'night, Mother” is not about suicide, at least not entirely.
Rather, it's about communication, acceptance, and the abiding love between a mother and daughter.
Livestreamed mostly on a split-screen, the action unfolds in real time in the rural home that widowed Thelma Cates (Tekeisha Yelton-Hunter) shares with her divorced daughter Jessie (Courtney Gardner). In all ways but one, it is a typical Saturday night. Thelma nibbles on candy and awaits her weekly manicure while Jessie tidies up until her announcement disturbs the quotidian calm of the Cates' home - sparking heated discussions, recriminations and, ultimately, understanding.
For Jessie, life has been a disappointment. Her marriage crumbled. Her drug-addicted son is a thief who Jessie suspects will wind up serving life in prison on the installment plan. She has epilepsy, which has made it difficult to hold a job. And she doesn't see her life changing for the better.
“I don't have any reason to think it'll get anything but worse,” she says.
Throughout the evening, Jessie checks off items on her to-do list: reminding her mother to remove dryer lint and put the garbage out, pointing out where they keep batteries and zip ties, noting which days the market delivers, and telling her mother what to say when family and friends ask “why?”
Having brushed off Jessie's declaration initially, Thelma resorts to coaxes, pleas and threats as she cycles through the stages of grief. Ultimately, mother and daughter connect in a way they never have before.
Confessions and revelations accompany anger, guilt and long-held resentments. But there is nothing mawkish about Norman's subtly humorous play or director Diane Sintich's candid, emotional production, which - aside from a few quick, jarring cuts - is ably composed and builds nicely to a shattering conclusion.
Potent performances from Gardner and Yelton-Hunter are reason enough to hope Invictus remounts this revival on stage once the pandemic ends.
Gardner conveys a resigned weariness as the clearheaded Jessie, a woman who has examined her life and found it wanting. Gardner's quiet detachment and her methodical approach make for an achingly sad, spot-on performance.
Fear, anger, guilt and defiance rage within Yelton-Hunter's expertly realized Thelma, a woman determined to save her child or, as Jessie describes, “what became of your child,” a statement powerful for the sad truth it reveals.
Yelton-Hunter's anguished penultimate moments are about as raw an emotional expression I've experienced in a theater production in some time.
“I didn't know. I was here with you all the time,” she says. “How could I know you were so alone?”
It's a gut-wrenching conclusion. Mindful of the times, Invictus follows with credits that include contact information for mental health providers and words to live by: You are loved. No one is alone.
Location: Invictus Theatre Company online at invictustheatreco.com/onstage
Showtimes: 7 p.m. Thursday through Saturday and 3 p.m. Sunday, through Nov. 8
Tickets: $20, 10% of ticket proceeds go to Sista Afya, an organization providing mental health and wellness services for Black women
Running time: About 105 minutes, no intermission
Rating: For teens and older; contains adult subject matter including frank discussions of suicide. Not for sensitive audience members