This Girl Laughs, This Girl Cries, This Girl Does Nothing
By Finegan Kruckemeyer
North Salem High School Theatre Department
Photo Credit: Tekoa Rose Photography.
This Girl Laughs, This Girl Cries, This Girl Does Nothing (written by Finegan Kruckemeyer, performed by the North Salem High School Theatre Department, and directed by North guru Alyssa Bond) is an odd duck of a play. From the excessively long title, to the narrative format, to its mishmash of genres, the play cannot seem to pick a lane. And yet—at every moment this production knows what it wants to be, and it shows a self-confidence that draws the viewer in. Over the course of the evening, this modern fable became a slow burn that had me truly invested and entertained by the end.
The first fifteen minutes of the production are the weakest. It starts not with an action, but with a narration by a chorus of actors describing the birth of triplet girls, each with their own qualities: the eldest loves cake; the middle one loves sunshine; and the third loves to bear the problems of the world on her shoulders. The narration commits the crime of telling, not showing—not in the manner of Brecht’s Epic theatre, where the narration jolts you awake, but more like a bedtime story that wants to lull you to sleep. The opening story is all too familiar: The girls lose their beloved mother. Into their life steps a cruel (or perhaps only indifferent) stepmother. Soon, the inept father is taking them for a walk in the forest to “gather firewood.” We know this story. And try as it might, the production could not really bring this opening portion of the play to life. I snoozed.
However, it is in the woods (the traditional place for transformation in the theatre) that the play finds its footing. Abandoned, the three sisters go their separate ways, each starting their own hero’s journey (heroine’s journey?). This break starts the action. Suddenly, one sister is a warrior, liberating the helpless. Another becomes an improbable explorer, spreading joy through the power of music. The one who remains behind is beset by an army of forest creatures—and suddenly the stage is awash with the full ensemble, each performing the funniest and most expressive physical acting I have seen on in a while. The forest scene is followed by a truly epic stage battle—one that lasts for minutes and brought me fully into the play. When the singing starts—yes, there is singing—it feels perfectly naturally. “Yes,” I thought. “Of course, this is the time for the song. What else could possibly happen at this moment in the story?”
The play is truly an ensemble piece, with no real highs or lows. While the three sisters (played by Tayler Samon, Choe Turner, and Emma Wagoner, respectively) are the only real named characters, the rest the cast of twenty-one young actors move seamless between narrators, village people, forest animals, and dancers (of course there are dance numbers!). What the cast excels at is supporting each other—sometimes physically (one actor is carried around in victory) and sometimes emotionally. When one actor went up on her line, another stepped in without hesitation to pick up the story: no judgment or remorse, just one storyteller helping another. This is the self-confidence of the play. It takes an ensembled formed over months (or longer), with a steady hand at the helm, to bring all this together.
The technical elements are likewise quirky and confident. Costumes (by Brenda Jensen) ran the gamut from medieval peasant, to something Dorothy might wear in Oz, to crumpled suits out of Waiting for Godot. And yet again, they tie together as well as the dance numbers that bridge the scenes (of course there are dance numbers!). The set is an abstract of furniture and lights built on imagination, which serves the fable well. I would add that the technical cues—lights, mics, and sound—were the smoothest that I have seen at North all year. The backstage team had it going on.
The play ends with the three sisters assembling in the very place their journey began (hero’s journey to the core). This is no spoiler, as the narrators told us this would happen at the beginning. But even though we know it’s coming, the moment still hits hard. The Greeks knew the power of recognition and reunion (Aristotle has pages on this in his Poetics). The group hug is no less powerful because the trick is old; the joy of reunion in family is an extremely human quality, and this production reminds of that with all its heart.
This Girl plays through May 14.
