Unicorn - Garrick Theatre
It felt like something a writer is supposed to love. It felt like exactly what an actor desires: beautiful words and the opportunity to work freely one on one with other talents. But it also felt like a story that could be sent in an email. The meaning behind this is that Unicorn begged to be noticed in its shifting tones, from experimental to serious to adult entanglements. The flashy language, supposedly reflective of this world and the dynamics of twenty-first century polyamory, ultimately felt unfulfilling.
Both Kyoto and Unicorn had the same set designer, Miriam Buether, and both felt experimental. In the case of Unicorn, everything felt experimental, even the conversations. The play was set up as a shell, opening and closing to let each character into the space. Maybe if the writer, Mike Bartlett, had relied on shock factor, the grayness of his work would have cleared. Instead, with intentionality, it felt as if he was poking a bear and then standing there waiting for it to wake and attack, almost unplanned.
This is not to say the acting was not beautiful, but it was varied. Erin Doherty was the highlight. It was the way she performed the words that gave them cadence. If this play were read on a page, she might appear to be a straight pixie dream girl. She was, but as Kate, Erin Doherty gave a familiarity that made the unrealistic dynamics feel lived-in. She chose her own cadence as a character rather than simply delivering the script.
The story follows a married couple facing the reality of their troubled relationship. Kate, a young woman, is introduced early to spice things up, which quickly turns into an open polyamorous relationship. Many plot points felt rushed: the jump from hook-up to Kate picking up Polly and Nick’s child, Kate quickly experiencing a death in the family, and Nick cheating and then nearly dying. Exploring dynamics of death and secrets requires careful pacing. One piece of advice once given to me was, “Your character must always have a secret.” It felt as if Mike Bartlett had decided this premise was interesting, asking what would happen if a secret was shared with only one of the women. How would it fracture the relationship? This is an interesting question, but the writing always felt obvious. Events happen, and the answers are immediately given. I never questioned how anyone truly felt because the subtext was lost in blunt honesty. All I saw in this honesty was a hectic relationship.
Could age have been a factor? Surprisingly, much of the audience was over sixty. Seeing an older couple and a young woman enter a relationship could have been compelling, yet it felt as if Mike Bartlett wrote this piece as an experiment. When faced with questions of what relationships mean, this is a truly new dynamic to bring to theatre, but it lacked understanding. While the play avoided turning polyamory into a stigma, it entered a dynamic between older and younger characters that felt less intellectual and more experimental for everyone involved.
