Anon(ymous)

 

At Studio 58 until December 1, 2019
Tickets from $12.50 at ticketstonight.ca or 604-687-2787

Posted November 17, 2019 

Directed by Carmen Aguirre, Anon(ymous) has some stunningly lovely moments of pure poetry; the entire ensemble of two dozen performers, for example, simply standing and one after another stating, “Where I come from” and then completing the sentence: “Where I come from is oxen in rice fields and hills the color of green tea.” “Where I come from is jungles filled with jaguars and pythons thick as a grown man’s thigh.” “Where I come from is poison frogs the size of a thumbnail and squirrels that can fly from tree to tree.” “Where I come from is waterfalls taller than the tallest skyscraper…”

Or the smells of the homeland from which they have fled: “orchids” or “mangoes” or “sheep’s milk – fresh and warm”.

With more refugees on the move than ever before in the history of the planet, there are millions of stories out there, millions of men, women and children longing for home. Anon(ymous) is one such story: a mother and son separated after a shipwreck as they fled their war-torn country. Nemasani (Katie Voravong), or Penny as she is called by Mr. Mackus (Jordan England), the sweatshop owner where she works, sews a shroud for the lost son she fears has drowned. But like Odysseus’s wife Penelope, Nemasani tears out the stitches each night, hoping against hope that she will not have to marry her  sexually predatory suitor and that Anon (Ashley Cook) is still alive.

 Playwright Naomi Iizuka  (Latina mother, Japanese father), who now lives in California, was commissioned by the Children’s Theatre Company of Minneapolis to write a play for teenagers and so Anon(ymous) sits somewhat awkwardly between a play for young adults and a play for an adult audience. Her storytelling style is non-linear and infused with elements of magic realism: a one-eyed butcher who serves up ‘ground round refugees’ à la Sweeney Todd. Or a ‘goddess’ who not only saves Anon on several occasions but comes on to him with a full, on-the-lips kiss. The butcher’s pet bird (Lauren Preissl) – gorgeously costumed by Mara Gottler in a mustard-coloured satin cocktail dress and feathered headdress – who – well, honestly, I don’t know what the bird is doing in this play except to provide a spike-heeled shoe with which to gouge out the butcher’s eye. Preissl, however, does a great nervous, twitchy/birdy job of it.

Iizuka’s undergraduate studies were in classical literature and Anon(ymous) very loosely leans on the Odyssey. The butcher refers to the one-eyed Polyphemus; ‘Nobody’ is the name Odysseus called himself when met by Polyphemus and ‘Nobody’ is one of the names Anon takes for himself; and Nausicaä finds her parallel in the loopy, rich American girl who rescues Anon from the sea. But the parallels feel forced and unnecessary: Odysseus was, after all, returning from the Trojan War, not a refugee fleeing war.

Perhaps young adults – familiar with music videos and virtual reality – are  better equipped than I am to deal with Iizuka’s style that lurches from stark, poetic realism to exaggerated, caricatured characters like the butcher, the ‘Valley girl’  with the rich parents and the sweatshop creep.

There are some lovely visual effects by set designer Jessica Oostergo, lighting designer Alan Brodie and video designer Candelario Andrade including some terrifying storms at sea with howling winds and house-high walls of water. The language is often hauntingly poetic and the reunion of mother and son, satisfying. And, as always, the commitment of the Studio 58 performers is one hundred percent. A standout in this production is Ashley Cook who does a lot of the heavy lifting in the role of Anon. I just would have preferred Iizuka to tell this story straight up – although one could argue that the Greeks, with all their interfering gods and goddesses, were already into magic realism.

Director Carmen Aguirre, a refugee herself from Chile, has written far more powerfully and passionately about the refugee experience; she writes from the gut, the heart and her own lived experience. Iizuka’s style kept me at arm’s length while what I wanted was to be truly moved.