Death and the Maiden

What is it like to live under a repressive government? What are the long term effects of torture and rape? What would you do when face-to-face with your persecutor? Would you call for justice or vengeance or . . .?

These, and other questions, are explored in Ariel Dorfman's dramatic Death and the Maiden. Like most of the opening night audiences, I wanted to stay and talk with actors, crew and staff and sort out my own feelings. I thought of recent world events, for though Maiden takes place in an unnamed Latin American country, it could be anywhere where the rule of law is only a dream.

What would it be like to respond to an insistent knock at your door by checking your gun to be sure it was loaded and cocked? That's the first reaction of Pauline Escobar (Amy Peters) when a strange car pulls up in front of her home. It's only a Good Samaritan who has driven home her husband, Gerardo (Farhang Pernoon). The conflicts, as in most marriages, surface quickly. Gerardo, a lawyer, is a part of the new power structure. Pauline is a victim of the last. Enter the Good Samaritan, Dr. Roberto Miranda. But who is this man who brings back distant, unrepressed memories of horrors?

The production's opening moments seem hesitant, but the magic of theatre and excellent performances soon take control, with strong passion ruling the day. Pernoon's performance as a man of justice and law is excellent. He convincingly travels through the emotions of his character -- a difficult ride in a difficult role. Duffy also has a difficult task, as he must emote through much of the play as a gagged and tied prisoner of his accuser, Pauline. He's so convincing, we may even sympathize with him against a crazed woman that has mistaken him for another.

As Pauline, Peters can be utterly charming, only to instill absolute fear a moment later. She always maintains a sharp edge, guaranteed to keep you in a state of anticipation. An occasional labored pause aside, these three actors give an awesome power to playwright Ariel Dorfman's words. The unity they create belongs to director Raimondo Genna, as well as to their stage skills. The environment provided by the designers is stark and utilitarian, the music almost just stings, used solely to accent a mood.