Manhattan Theater Club's production at City Center Stage 1 is called, When We Were Young and Unafraid,yet a climate of fear shrouds the characters, both young and old. Playwright Sarah Treem sets the time in 1972, when the Women's Movement for equal rights was a controversial buzz through society. It was the tail end of the era when getting and/or performing an abortion in the United States was still a crime.
Directed by Pam McKinnon, the play is not a polemic on gender equality but a glimpse at different women waging their own battles. One person tries to make things right for herself and everyone else. Played by Cherry Jones, that woman is Agnes who has been through her personal wars. A closeted lesbian and former military nurse, she had her license revoked for performing abortions. She moved to an island in Puget Sound and opened a quiet bed and breakfast that serves as an underground safe house for abused woman. It was also a way to distance herself from the fracas of mainland politics. While she emits a no-nonsense maternal presence, Agnes has learned to live with discretion and move with foresight, insisting on rules that must be followed.
The setting is the cozy cluttered kitchen with a covered side door allowing a glimpse into an outer room. A rug in the kitchen hides a trap door. When thumping is heard, it signals that runaways are here. Stairs lead upstairs to rooms where women in hiding must remain during the day.
While characters may fit into stereotypes, Treem (TV's “In Treatment,” “House of Cards”), has defined them with intriguing nuances. Cherry Jones, arguably the finest stage actress today (Roundabout's The Glass Menagerie, The Heiress, Doubt), is persuasive as Agnes, displaying nurturing warmth as well as a hard, inflexible edge. She leads a quality cast, including Morgan Saylor (TV's “Homeland”) in her stage debut as Agnes' daughter, Penny. Saylor shines with Penny's 16-year-old's restlessness, snippy with wisps of insecurity. She is brainy and wants to go to Yale but also yearns to be more popular and attract boys.
Mary Anne, portrayed compellingly by Zoe Kazan, appears at the top of the play, frightened and badly beaten. Kazan stretches out the facets of Mary Anne, who uses lying as a defensive weapon. While street smart and knowing she is powerless, she tends to yield to her instincts and inspires the naive Penny how to attract boys and take risks. Hannah, a fiery radical black feminist (Cherise Boothe), bursts in, asking for work, not a handout, just work. She can fix anything and will then move on, looking for a feminist commune called "Womynland" (“there are no men anywhere, not even in the name”).
A paying B&B guest is nerdy Paul, played by Patch Darragh (Roundabout's Glass Menagerie) from San Francisco and recently divorced from his wife who ran off with a hippie. As the plot progresses, Darrah subtly reveals Paul's darker aspects.
Pam McKinnon mines the subtle sensitivities within the characters, and while Sarah Treem's play often slips off its track, sudden bursts of energy and insight set it back on a provocative course.
Designer Scott Pask assigns perfect details for a 1970's kitchen; no espresso makers or food processors here. Instead stands a stainless steel coffee pot and an old-style Waring blender, heavy mixing bowls and wooden spoons.
Jessica Pabst's costumes reflect the era and characters. Russell H. Champa provides delicate lighting, and scenes are spaced with music by Broken Chord.
The play ends in 1973, as Hannah returns to the house, disenchanted with Womynland. She tells Agnes about the Supreme Court's decision in favor of abortion rights in the Roe v. Wade case, predicting that things are changing. Agnes replies, dryly, “Yes, but they’ll change back.”
Consider that often millennials cannot appreciate the AIDS crisis in the 1980's and '90's, and you won't be shocked that many also are unconcerned about feminist struggles in the early 1970's. This play is a reminder of a woman's role and the feminist movement at that time. Hopefully, younger women will recognize the constrictions on both genders. In many ways, constrictions and internal battles remain.
