NEW YORK — The great playwright August Wilson used to say he’d just let his characters talk and then try and get out of their way. Bess Wohl’s fascinating and superbly acted Broadway play “Liberation,” by contrast, is entirely frank that this is the playwright talking — or, more specifically, asking question after question of her mom’s generation of 1970s feminists.
On the one hand, this ambitious and personal play, first seen off-Broadway at the Roundabout Theatre, is a moving tribute to the big thinkers who got naked in their meetings (which is why the show judiciously locks up the audience’s phones) and to the pioneers when it came to demanding respect in the workplace, building reproductive rights, advancing sexual freedom and demanding equal pay. Not to mention myriad other victories, even while these women often were raising kids and caring for their less-than-evolved husbands.
On the other hand, its continual interrogations are a reminder of successive generations’ endless fascination with baby boomers, not to mention yet another example of Gen Xers and millennials’ weird complexity of feelings about them.
“Why did you make these sacrifices?” the play wants to know. “Did they bring you happiness? Did you abandon your principles when you had kids?” And, perhaps most interestingly of all, “Did you actually liberate anyone beyond yourselves?”
You can also see this play as highly reflective — for obvious reasons — of the current progressive age of anxiety.
Wohl’s authorial mouthpiece, the character Lizzie (Susannah Flood), begins the show by introducing both herself and her mother’s “friends” who form the feminist group that meets inside a high school gymnasium somewhere in Ohio. (David Zinn’s set looks like a functioning school gym.) She tells us she will be playing her mother (she shares her name), and so she does, taking us inside those 1970s conscious-raising meetings on folding chairs, but also inside her own nagging sense that the country has failed to follow through on the sacrifices of these women — and even has gone in the opposite direction.
“Why?” the daughter Lizzie often interrupts the play to ask. And does that mean her mom’s generation of feminists somehow failed to make lasting, transferable change, even if they achieved some level of emancipation and power for themselves? Was her mom’s problem actually that she fell in love with a handsome guy and left Ms. Magazine to take care of her kids?
That’s a gutsy question for a writer of Wohl’s generation to interrogate, of course, especially since most feminist plays consider some of the matters questioned here to be inviolate truths and the handsome guy in question is Lizzie’s dad (played, with amusing deference to the rest of the show, by Charlie Thurston) who helped conceive her.
Make no mistake, this is a sophisticated piece of writing that goes far beyond the usual 90 minutes on Broadway, and it is cleverly self-protected too: In the opening scene, Lizzie even takes the audience to task for spending Broadway money and still wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. A paradox, she asserts, and she is right.
At times, you feel like Wohl made a list of what other progressives might criticize about both the play and the movement (too rich, white and straight) and then set consciously about fending them all off by writing beyond her own experience. She pulls it off, thanks in no small measure to this formidable ensemble, especially Kristolyn Lloyd, whose performance is the most dynamic of the night. But there is no question that Wohl, who went to both Harvard and Yale, writes from the perspective of the liberal elite. For example, we never know in which Ohio city the play is set, even though there is much discussion of the excitement of life in New York, San Francisco and Chicago. A Buckeye would have made a different choice, but then Wohl lives in Brooklyn, where Ohio functions mostly as a metaphor for the other America.
So “Liberation” feels aimed more at the women of Park Slope than Cleveland. Then again, that is who likely will be sitting in those expensive Broadway seats (perhaps with their Upper West Side moms), but it does answer one of Lizzie’s questions about the political direction of the world in a way that the play can’t quite admit.
That said, just asking these kinds of questions is rare, especially with this level of humility. The other great strength of “Liberation” is the potency and humanity of its characters, even if Lizzie struggles to shut up long enough to let them talk. All are adroitly performed under Whitney White’s direction; if there were a Tony Award for best ensemble, it would be wrapped up now by Betsy Aidem, Audrey Corsa, Kayla Davion, Irene Sofia Lucio and Adina Verson, as well as the aforementioned Lloyd and Flood.
If you are of a certain age, you likely will view “Liberation” as an exploration of the questions that have always come to mind as one’s era of political activism recedes and it dawns on a person that successful relationships and kids and partners take even more work, at least until the nest empties out. It’s a version of the “can-you-have-it-all question” to which, alas, the answer is always no. Whoever you are. The advertisers sold you lies. But the theater always has been the right place to wonder, and hope.
“Liberation” pokes fun at long, “male” plays written by the childless, which is a bit of a cheap shot, albeit one that lands with this audience. In reality, it has much in common with those epic lifts, and that’s a compliment. There are certain thematic interests and structural devices in common with Paula Vogel’s “Mother Play,” which is not surprising, but Wohl has such a powerful and enjoyable voice.
She makes everyone care about the questions she has herself and that’s exactly what a playwright should be doing.
At the James Earl Jones Theatre, 138 W. 48th St., New York; liberationbway.com
Chris Jones is a Tribune critic.
cjones5@chicagotribune.com
