Review: ‘Girls & Boys' by Griffin Theatre is a devastating solo memory play

Chicago Tribune

6 hours ago

As I walked out of Griffin Theatre's extraordinary production of 'Girls & Boys,' in that dazed state that sets in after a show really messes with your head, two thoughts immediately ran through my mind. First: Cynthia Marker just gave a hell of a solo performance — one of the best I've seen in a long time. Second: how on earth am I going to convey the impact of this play without spoiling too much of the plot?
I'll give the latter my best attempt. In this one-woman play, British writer Dennis Kelly (a Tony Award winner for the book of 'Matilda the Musical') manages a tricky balancing act, tackling an extremely dark subject in almost surgical detail while softening its harshest blows for the audience and maintaining some sense of hope in humanity. Oh, and the show is also hilarious.
Griffin's Midwest premiere of this 2018 play is directed by Robin Witt, who excels at the helm of intimate dramas, as recently demonstrated by the moving two-handers 'A Case for the Existence of God' and 'A Slow Air' at Steep Theatre. Her knack for shaping exquisitely paced, quietly devastating emotional arcs works equally well in 'Girls & Boys.'
With a skilled writer and a sensitive director in her corner, Marker holds the audience in rapt attention for 100 minutes straight in the role of the unnamed narrator, a quick-witted, irreverent Londoner from a working-class background. She launches her opening monologue with a bit worthy of a stand-up comedy set, recalling how she first met her future husband while waiting to board a JetBlue flight in Naples, Italy. As he sarcastically dashes the hopes of two gorgeous models trying to flirt their way ahead in the tense queue, this previously unremarkable man starts looking like a Greek god to our narrator. The attraction proves to be mutual, and Marker's character rhapsodizes about their passionate physicality and seemingly perfect compatibility in the early stages of their relationship.
Suddenly, a sound cue and a shift from white to blue lighting indicate a leap in time, and this woman begins to relive a mundane interaction with her two young children, Leanne and Danny, while speaking to thin air and miming her motherly motions. Although we don't initially understand the purpose of this disorienting scene, in which the narrator no longer addresses the audience but instead seems wrapped up in her own memories, it does begin to make sense of the striking scenic design by Sotirios Livaditis.
The set's ground level consists of a simple couch, throw rug, end tables and lamps in grays and off-whites — an ensemble that is mirrored by blue furniture suspended from the ceiling and strewn with children's toys and two stuffed animals. The overhead set pieces light up during the blue-tinged memory sequences, with lighting designer Brandon Wardell and sound designer Thomas Dixon working in tandem with Livaditis to toggle back and forth in time as the play inches toward revealing how the narrator's own life was turned upside down.
When the action flips back to the brightly lit, right-side-up look, Marker's character recounts how her husband, a successful entrepreneur, cheered her on as she pursued a new career in documentary filmmaking. In another comedic moment, she tells the story of her first job interview in the industry, which pitted her against a horde of posh young people who could afford to pad their resumes with unpaid work experience. But with a combination of grit and humor, she gets her foot in the door and works her way up. A happy marriage, a fulfilling job and soon, a growing family — her adult life seems off to a promising start.
Of course, that's not where the story ends. I won't reveal more here, but the script drops enough hints of the horrors to come that when the crisis finally arrives, the narrator acknowledges that the audience probably knows where it's going. Then, she gives the gentlest, most generous trigger warning imaginable. When the story gets difficult, she tells us, remember two things: this did not happen to you, and it is not happening now.
But in this fictional world, the unspeakable did happen to her, and the narrator's reflections on violence, grief and memory are both poignant and profound. Marker never succumbs to a full breakdown in the telling, and her character has had years to process the trauma, but her pain is no less palpable for this restraint. It's a performance that will haunt me for some time, I suspect. Don't miss it.Review: 'Girls & Boys' (4 stars)
When: Through Aug. 16
Where: Griffin Theatre at the Bramble Arts Loft, 5545 N. Clark St.
Running time: 1 hour, 40 minutes
Tickets: $30-$43 at griffintheatre.com