All of us at Berkeley Rep have been working crazy hours getting ready for our 50th world premiere: In the Next Room (or the vibrator play). Earlier this week it felt like we'd drained our batteries, but now that the show's open we feel completely recharged... because everyone's buzzing about this great new play.
(Sorry. It's really hard to resist the countless giggly puns that this show presents. At intermission on opening night, at least four different people told me with a wink that they couldn't wait for the play's climax.)
Below are the reviews that came out this morning. Do you agree with the critics? Do you think they're faking it? If you've seen the show, post a comment below and let us know how you feel. If you haven't been In the Next Room yet, get a ticket and plug into the conversation!
And by the way, as if a night with Dr. Givings isn't satisfying enough, we're thrilled that our journey through 1,001 nights with Mary Zimmerman continues. Our production of The Arabian Nights just opened the first stop on its tour, and the Kansas City Star gave it a rave review:
The Arabian Nights sold out its run while it was in Berkeley. Don't wait too long to get seats for The Vibrator Play or you'll be sitting home alone, left to your own -- um -- devices. And if you've seen it already, all I can say is...
Please Come Again.
Photo of Maria Dizzia and Hannah Cabell
courtesy of kevinberne.com
I saw the show on Sunday, Feb 15. I found it entertaining, stimulating, thought-provoking, educational, funny, and extremely well written and well acted. One thing bothered me at the end, for which I would like an interpretation, as I haven't developed a satisfactory one on my own.
Why, at the end, was the husband nude and the wife only partially undressed? Before the action, she demands of him, "Undress me!" He complies, but only partially. Then she says, "And now, I'll undress you!" And she undresses him, completely.
I see this ending as both a renewal of their relationship and a begininning of a universally healthy attitude toward sex. The text would seem to imply that they should both be nude, starting over from scratch as it were.
So, why only a male nude? Was this the author's choice, or the director's, or the actresses?
I'd love to hear a cogent interpretation, as I don't have one.
Steve Lowens
You know, a lot of people have been asking that. The short answer is that it is quite definitely the playwright's choice. Sarah's script is quite specific on this point. The one-line stage direction reads: "He undresses her, partially."
Further down, after some further dialogue between them, it simply says, "She undresses him." And then after a few more lines, these longer, more poetic stage directions follow:
He is naked.
We don’t need to see all of his body,
it is dark out--
but we do see the moon glowing off his skin.
She has never seen him naked before--
she has only seen him under the covers.
So I suppose you could argue that the manner in which Dr. Givings appears in this final scene is a directorial choice. I suspect this is why there is only a brief moment of frontal nudity, to try to capture the sense that he is nude but to preserve the sense of mystery that resides in Sarah's poetry.
What the deeper interpretation of all of this is, well, your opinion is as good as mine. And I suppose that's the point.
I too was a bit puzzled by the ending. It was definitely shocking to see the man in full frontal nudity, and puzzling for the wife to not share this vulnerability with him. At the same time I can see the husband's shyness stopping him from undressing her completely because that is what he is comfortable with. She on the other hand is more sexually curious and as a result strips him down completely. Perhaps Sarah is highlighting this somewhat awkward moment that the couple are having and that will supposedly dissipate as they explore each others sexuality.
However, I think it might have been better if the play actually silhouetted the husband as Sarah's directions call for. It would have been a bit less provocative and allow my imagination work a bit. However, perhaps the director's approach is more inline with the reaction Sarah actually wanted for the audience, to be consumed by discomfort and vulnerability similar to that of the husband in this scene.
For anyone else who is wondering about why Dr. Givings is stripped completely naked in the end, I just posted video from the post-show discussion, in which our literary manager and Paul Niebanck (the actor who plays Dr. Givings) give their thoughts on the subject.
Saw this play a year back and it was a little bit of a shock at the time. But I did enjoy the cleaver weaving of the themes and I pretty much see anything that is Victorian era.
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