Closet Land

The advisory posted in the lobby stated "Absolutely no children will be admitted." Midway through the show, I wished I qualified, so I could be home safely watching the game. Closet Land is hard on spectators and apparently painful for the actors as well, since the curtain call found them with wet eyes and tense faces. Within the intimate space, there was no escaping the intensity of the brutal interrogation withstood by the Woman (a delicately lovely Shannon Parks) from her tormentor, the Man (Paul Morella, malevolently alternating between good and bad cop).

The Woman, an author, falls afoul of some ambiguous totalitarian regime when she deviates from creating "cotton candy children's fiction" about anthropomorphized animals to depicting a shadowy "Closet Land."  She is dragged from her bed still wearing her white nightgown in the middle of the night. Imprisoned, she is tortured by the powers that be, who misinterpret the tale as an allegory for revolution. Their attempts to obtain a confession by physical and sexual intimidation are thwarted by her retreat into her imagination. "Most prisoners break in two hours," The Man says, in admiration. When the two enter Closet Land to explore the origin of her trauma, the revelations are less discomfiting than watching Morella fondle Park in a manner that, stage tricks aside, looks  painful.  (Was there a less distracting way to direct this?)

The 1991 film version, starring Alan Rickman and Madeleine Stowe, and directed by Bharadwaj, focused on political concerns. It won the Human Rights and Youth Jury Awards in the San Sebastian International Festival. The stage play spotlights the ambiguous relationship between captor and captive. The conflicting interpretations voiced by audience members (including detracting critics) in the lobby speak to the power of this controversial script.