The Constructivists, a fledgling Milwaukee theater company, is back this fall with Women Laughing Alone with Salad. It consists of a four-day virtual production that is a treat for theatergoers and social media watchers alike. In the space of 100 minutes, the audience becomes deeply involved in the main character, a 29-year-old bachelor named Guy (Rob Schreiner), and three of the women in his life: his live-in girlfriend Tori (Paige Bourne); his mother Sandy (Sabra Michelle); and a mysterious woman he meets on a rooftop bar, Meredith (Liz Ehrler). Award-winning playwright Sheila Callaghan weaves more than a few dark turns into this black comedy, upending the notions of gender and relationships in American society. In addition to her plays, Callaghan is best-known for her work on the long-running cable TV show, “Shameless,” starring William H. Macy. The themes here are similar to ones Callaghan has touched on in her other plays. This isn’t the first time she has commented on the beauty industry and what it has done to American women in the 21st Century. In Salad, the female characters are often seen munching on leaves of spinach or other various vegetables (even an onion). Sometimes, these salad-eating episodes are interrupted by “TV commercials” (video clips) that show other women blissfully eating salad while congratulating themselves on how healthy and happy they’ve become.
In the earliest instance of this salad-eating behavior, the women start munching with enthusiasm. They are almost beaming as they fill their mouths with leafy greens. They even dance around a bit, moving in time to the (intentionally) cheesy music that’s playing in the background. It’s only when Guy appears, chewing on a burrito, that the women’s upbeat spirits start to fade. Two of the women stop eating all together, as they stare longingly at the burrito.
This is only the tip of the iceberg (lettuce). As the action unfolds, we encounter other sore spots in our culture. These include: the pursuit of remaining youthful, the importance attached to body images, the fear of intimacy, art and commerce, fantasy, and reality.
In the Constructivists’ virtual world, each windowless “room” behind the actors is composed of pale gray curtains. The curtains are nailed to wood supports to effectively create a common blank backdrop for the two or three computer screens seen by the audience. With no evident indication of time or place, location are noted on place cards. They which may read, “The Park,” “The Television” or “A Rooftop Bar.” It's difficult to tell what is real – and what is imagined – in Callaghan’s work. Take Guy’s initial meeting with his headstrong mother. She treats him like a subservient, take-out delivery boy. While talking with Guy, she is simultaneously undergoing a lengthy and (probably painful) skin treatment to make her hands look more youthful. Her hands are dipped in a bowl, which is presumably filled with little fishes swimming around in water. From the conversation between mother and son, it’s clear that the fish are not content with nibbling away an outer layer of her skin. They actually eat her entire fingers.
This seems to be of no consequence to Sandy, who claims that she doesn’t really use her fingers, anyway. As the fish continue to nibble, Sandy makes withering remarks about the other women in Guy’s life. She also nags him about getting a “real” job, perhaps in marketing. Scoffing at this idea, Guy remarks that only “cowards and losers go into marketing.” The rhythm of this conversation flows naturally and realistically, thanks to these two talented actors and the sensitive direction of Jaimelyn Gray.
But, what about the fish? The audience soon witnesses a nonchalant Sandy, strutting about with two bloody stumps for hands. This is the kind of visual gut-punch for which Callaghan is known.
One of the funnier (and not so dark) scenes occurs early in the first act, when Guy obsesses over a girl (Meredith) who is dancing across the room from him at a rooftop bar. With appropriate mood lighting by Dawn Bankers, the bar is dark enough to simulate a discotheque-style ambiance. At first, both boy and girl share their secret thoughts by talking directly to the audience. Eventually, Guy works up the courage to meet her. Their “meet-cute” is cleverly staged, with both parties trying to sound “hip” and “sexy.”
It doesn’t take long for Guy to observe that Meredith is a bit tipsy. Naturally, she says that she should have had more than a salad for lunch. The bar scene soon fades away, being replaced by Guy’s apartment. He introduces Meredith to his live-in girlfriend, Tori. Neither woman is initially comfortable with the menage a trois that follows. But the women attempt to be accommodating, much to Guy’s delight. As their conversation fades, a video interlude is shown. The threesome’s various body parts are shown, with a montage of arms, legs and mouths. The video is an effective device, allowing the audience to fill in the gaps with its own imagination. (However, there’s no getting around the grown-up language used by all the characters, so parents should be alert.)
After Guy steps out of the apartment for a moment, the two women make biting comments to each other. The slender Tori says she is amazed at Meredith’s uninhibited sexual behavior. “Well,” harrumphs the plus-sized Meredith,” guys may want to be seen (around town) with YOU, but they want to f*** ME.”
Things take a decidedly more bizarre turn in Salad’s second act, when the gender tables are turned. The female cast members slick back their hair to play male roles. The actor Sabra Michelle, who in the first act plays Guy’s mother, appears now as Guy himself. It is six years later. Guy’s mother has just died, and “he” can’t believe that six years seem to have slipped away since he took a job at a marketing firm. Meanwhile, Paige Bourne and Liz Ehrler are now playing new characters, Joe and Bruce. Both of them are Guy’s associates. Together, they are tasked with developing a new marketing plan for a wellness pill for women. Eventually. Guy has to make his sales pitch to a new boss named “Alice,” (Rob Schreiner in a platinum blond, page boy-styled wig). Guy claims that their visuals will “help consumers live up to the ideal version of themselves.” The action quickly flips to a slideshow that is filled with images of women dousing themselves with water from water bottles or, of course, eating deliciously fresh salad. Alice is not impressed, and Guy’s future as a marketing executive is put into question.
The Constructivists are to be congratulated for attempting to translate this complicated script into something resembling live theater. The talented actors pour themselves into this project with gusto, capturing the playwright’s keen sense of sarcasm and social commentary. The action is intriguing enough to keep viewers glued to this creative world of virtual theater. Although Salad is available to view for four nights only, one hopes that viewer reaction will encourage The Constructivists to produce more of this new form of entertainment.
