Displaying items by tag: Rae Gray

A psychotherapist is held hostage by a gun-toting patient demanding he certify her as stable enough to return to work. That inherently conflictual demand is the core of Max Wolf Friedlich’s “Job” at Writers Theater.

It is an intriguing work. Directed by David Esbjomson it has a slow-burn of reveal in which details might easily turn into spoilers, so be forewarned. In the course of the session both patient and therapist reveal themselves in lengthy discourse, but intermittently scenes flash by that are revelations.

These momentary glimpses during “Job” are impeccable, powerful, rapid-fire, split seconds that are core to the evolving action. High praise is due for lighting design by James F. Ingalls with interwoven sound scapes by co-sound designers Willow James and Christopher Koz and one instantaneous horrifying mask change that feels like a gut punch. Costumes are by Jessica Pabst, and scenic design is by Jack Magaw. “Job” also represents a deft bit of dramaturgy (credit Erin Shea Brady) that this play has been brought to Chicago so soon after gaining considerable buzz in New York.

Opening in a series of flash scenes, at the outset no explanation or context is offered, just a young woman brandishing a gun at an older gentleman in sweater, tie and glasses. The exact scene is presented repeatedly in stroboscopic rapidity, and we are able to see it’s in an office setting, perhaps an academic and a student? A settee dominates the room.

As the play progresses, we are periodically treated again to such scenes repeating themselves. And we in the audience slowly divine that we are witnessing the varying perceptions through the eyes of the patient Jane (Rae Gray is remarkable). She has been sent by her employer to the office of Loyd (Christopher Donahue is excellent), a psychotherapist, for evaluation. The reason? She had a screaming desktop meltdown at work, and was placed on leave until Jane’s sanity can be affirmed by Loyd. That settee is a psychotherapist's couch.

For 85 minutes, the two joust back and forth. Jane has no belief in the efficacy of psychotherapy, and is an unwilling patient. Loyd specializes in tough cases. The playwright records Jane’s unintentional revelations of her deep-seated issues that led to the meltdown, which was shared on social media and went viral, damaging to her and to her employer’s reputation, to say the least.

Under force, Jane has taken the therapist hostage, and argues ardently against his entreaties and skillful non-directive therapeutic efforts to lead her to insights about herself.

"I hate talking about myself," says Jane. "It never seems to get me anywhere."

Despite her best intentions, Jane goes deeper and deeper into her worldview, and also the concrete job-related causes of her meltdown.

And though Loyd is held under force in this session, it is the attraction of their argument about therapy that keeps them there. and the playwright Friedlich provides an excellent recount of the circuitous techniques of an effective therapist that lead patients to self-understanding, and healing.

But not Jane. She is what they call in the psych game “highly defended.” She never experiences an “aha” moment under Lloyd’s guidance. And when one approach fails, Loyd pulls out of his bag other tools, including an extremely direct analysis of Jane delivered point blank to her face. This depiction of the psychotherapy process is a great accomplishment.

Jane is compelling in her intransigence, and offers strong and dismissive arguments against Loyd’s efforts and disses psychoanalysis overall.

"When everything is connected, nothing is," she says. 

During this back and forth we find ourselves moved to ally with the arguments of one side or the other. As the action rises to its climax, Jane nearly nails her therapist to his vulnerability. It is the tension between the two that is intended to make “Job” gripping, but it didn’t quite capture me in that way.

An important subtext lies in Jane’s work. She desperately needs to be at her desk to make her feel grounded and keep her world aligned. But the work is toxic - she flags and removes horrifying and illegal visual content from the web. The continuous encounter with such heinous content, which Jane describes at length, has certainly affected her mental health. But rather than return to it, as Jane desperately desires, maybe she should file a workers comp claim and call it a day.

One problem with the play is that it seems a bit too “literary,” in the story-telling sense of the word. As Jane relates anecdotal elements of her experience at work or her love life, the passages sometimes go on ad nauseum. Show, don’t tell is the maxim on stage. The effect is to deflate the tension between the characters, and I found my attention and interest flagging. I also felt that Jane’s sometimes lengthy discourses weren’t convincingly those of a woman, but maybe that’s just me. Some time is spent on the generational and cultural divides between boomers like Loyd and younger generations represented by Jane. This seemed to detract from the thrust of the drama. 

Still, “Job” is recommended for the great performances, and the excellent production. "Job" runs through June 14, 2026 at Writers Theatre in Glencoe, IL.

*Extended through July 3rd

This review is proudly shared with our friends at www.TheatreInChicago.com. 

The preoccupation with the opioid crisis in our pop culture these days says a lot about the world in which we live. Rivendell Theatre contributes to the national conversation with a new play, “Spay” by local playwright Madison Fiedler. “Spay” is set in Appalachia, the heart of the opioid crisis, also where Fiedler grew up. Inspired by what she observed living in rural North Carolina, “Spay” furthers the conversation of how specifically this epidemic is effecting women.

Noah (Rae Gray) is a struggling heroin addict. She has a child, but her sister Harper (Krystel McNeil) raises him. Following an overdose, Noah agrees to live with Harper but she has to get sober. Noah’s boyfriend Jackson (Spencer Huffman) is her drug dealer and all around bad influence. The standard architypes of an episode of Intervention. Fiedler works against popular tropes or clichés to make these damaged characters likeable.  

A few years ago, Vice HBO ran a segment about Project Prevention, a nonprofit with a mission to help women and mothers with addiction. Except, there’s a little more to the mission of Project Prevention than just helping addicts. In Fiedler’s play Aubrey (Tara Mallen) mysteriously floats into Noah and Harper’s lives in an almost Mary Poppinish way. Aubrey is a representative of Project Prevention, and explains to Harper exactly what it is they do. Voluntary sterilization is one way Project Prevention sees a way out of the opioid crisis. Fiedler places this detail at a crucial moment of the play.

“Spay” examines how America looks at the opioid crisis, or rather how America chooses to hide the opioid crisis. While some can argue voluntary sterilization could cut down on the amount of children being born addicted and burdening the foster care system. Fiedler’s gruesome title suggests how she feels about the procedure.

Whether this play is a tragedy is up for debate. “Spay” is a play about exactly what its title implies. The comparison of human women to dogs. We get our dogs “fixed” in order to avoid a litter to care for. There’s a coldness to the idea that anyone would be given monetary compensation for a very permanent, non-essential procedure. A branding from society that you are not good enough to recreate.

Rae Gray and Krystel McNeil both deliver strong performances in this incredibly intimate production. Designed by Lindsay Mummert, the staging feels almost as if you yourself are sitting in Harper’s dingy living room. The atmospheric nature of this staging removes any veil audiences have with the realities of the opioid epidemic. It’s a first hand experience. As more and more opioid stories are told, calls for accountability become louder and plays like “Spay” help drive home the point that addiction is a disease not a character flaw.

Through April 17 at Rivendell Theatre Ensemble, 5779 N Ridge Avenue, www.rivendelltheatre.org