RTW Opens its Season with Gorgeous "The How and the Why"
Photo by Maureen Janson Heinz
Renaissance Theaterworks begins its 30th season with a pause. The first moments of the company’s production of The How and the Why, by Sarah Treem, are filled with silence and stillness as one character studies the other, on the brink of a life-changing meeting. Like the researcher she is, Rachel (Elyse Edelman) stops to observe the professor she has come to see, who is so busy flipping through the files and books on her desk she doesn’t hear anyone approach. Rachel takes a minute to study the woman and her office – classic academia dark wood, well furnished, filled with books neatly stacked on their shelves. (Fantastic, realistic set design by Madelyn Yee.) Like the audience, Rachel leans forward, deciding she has to know more.
Directed with heart by RTW Artistic Director Suzan Fete, The How and the Why is an ambitious, talky, two-character play focusing on women – the clinical, medical, practical, historical, social, and familial aspects of being born with two X chromosomes. (Be warned, there are also lengthy discussions about women’s reproductive organs. Those less familiar with the miracle of menses may want to glance over some diagrams before they come.)
But underneath a great deal of scientific discussion about how women have evolved over centuries is the complicated, emotional story about a mother and child reuniting after a lifetime apart. Over several conversations, both characters discover that their shared DNA has shaped them in similar ways and their genetic connection may be the foundation for a relationship they both need going forward.
In the first act it’s revealed that Zelda (Mary MacDonald Kerr) and Rachel are both scientists, working in the field of evolutionary biology. Zelda, in her mid-50s, is an established academic with prizes, publications and considerable professional stature due to her groundbreaking “grandmother hypothesis,” which attempts to explain “the how and the why” of human menopause. Her theory speculates that it is a necessary biological change to women’s bodies, to ensure that younger offspring can thrive. Rachel, a 28-year-old graduate student at NYU, also has a revolutionary theory about “how and why” women menstruate, postulating that it’s a defense mechanism against the toxicity of sperm — a regular flushing of bacteria and other pathogens women are exposed to during sex.
Both of these theories are interesting on their own — and grounded in real research that has sparked plenty of discussion in the field. But more than exploring the scientific explanations for why we have evolved the way we have, the play brings up related questions that have everything to do with genetics and gender roles: the construct of marriage, the biological and/or emotional approach to human relationships, perspectives on second wave and modern feminism, historical biases against women in science and in academia, the question of whether women really have to choose either career or family, and the bonds that exist between a mother and her child, even when they have been separated for years.
As the warm but matter-of-fact Zelda, Kerr is more comfortable with professional interactions than personal ones, but her urgency to pass along all that she’s learned over her life and career to Rachel is palpable. A hint of Zelda’s carefully guarded insecurity appear towards the end of the second act, as she questions her life choice to be alone — unmarried and without children — and catches glimpses of what she gave up.
As Rachel, Edelman is a young woman still finding her footing, both in her field and in her relationships. She puts up a good front, but is easily hurt and discouraged, and initially very wary of Zelda. Rachel glows with excitement when she explains her new theory, but bursts into tears when overcome with the emotional power of her idea. On the brink of so many possibilities she waivers, wondering which path to take, and with whom. Often intimidated and overwhelmed, she is not comfortable in her own power yet. But with the right mentor (one who doesn’t want to use her for sex, like her current male advisor) she shows great promise.
Photo by Maureen Janson Heinz
In a production without a lot of physical movement, body language charts the characters’ emotional evolution. At the top of the show, Zelda remans protected behind her enormous wooden desk, whilc Rachel sits in a chair with knees spread apart, purposefully taking up space. When she ends their first meeting, Rachel extends a very firm hand to keep her birth mother at a safe distance. But in difficult moments, the young woman absolutely collapses, face down into a pile of despair. Caught in unfamiliar territory, Zelda carefully negotiates her responses to these breakdowns. She is initially afraid of overstepping her boundaries and always unsure of her role – of how Rachel needs to be mothered. In t he final moments of the play, when the two are able to be vulnerable with each other, they embrace while Zelda gently strokes her daughter’s hair. The effect of this literal connection is breathtaking, and a testament to how far each of them has come.
The How and the Why plays at the Next Act Theatre through November 13.