Jonathan Popp
Max Ducey delivers a moving performance as Vera, the family matriarch.
Playwright Amy Herzog has talked in interviews about the autobiographical elements of After the Revolution. Her grandfather really was a noted Marxist named Joe Joseph who was questioned by the House Un-American Activities Committee about his ties to communism. He really did commit espionage by giving the Russians classified documents, out of allegiance to the party. Herzog even put a younger version of herself at the center of the drama, explaining, “I spend a lot of time trying to see all sides of any issue.”
That is exactly Emma’s purpose in After the Revolution, produced by Kathie Rasmussen Women’s Theatre (KRASS) and running at the Bartell Theatre through Dec. 15. Growing up in a politically active family, Emma (Caroline Peterson) is initially shocked when her grandfather, a champion of the poor, is exposed as a former spy. Emma tries to determine who to blame, who to excuse, and how to move forward. Her career as a lawyer, her social justice foundation, and her relationships are suddenly in jeopardy. At first it’s puzzling why the play doesn’t wrestle more with the question of Joe Joseph’s guilt or innocence, but ultimately that’s not the issue. The biggest conflict is between Emma and her father, Ben — the man who knew the truth and kept it from his daughter for years.
Herzog’s skill is in exploring every facet of betrayal — and there are many. Rather than being absorbed in what happens, audiences are asked to connect the dots after seeing a group of related scenes. It’s not a terribly satisfying narrative, but it is an interesting story to ponder.
Performances across the eight-person cast are uneven, but two actors stand out for their emotional range and for their commitment to the material. As Ben, Stephen Montagna portrays a conflicted and hurt father whose pride in his family’s lefty legacy and the accomplishments of his daughter collide with his pain and guilt for letting her down.
Max Ducey turns in a moving performance as Vera, the family matriarch. At first, she comes off as fragile and out of touch, but she’s tough and her insights are keen. Her indignation at her granddaughter’s betrayal of the former family hero is one of the finest moments in the play.
The production’s set (design by Lu Meinders) clearly delineates three playing spaces — a living room, a dining room and a restaurant. And lighting design by Alice Combs helps greatly by providing texture.
Unfortunately, the theater space is grossly underutilized by directors Suzan Kurry and Amy C. May. Actors stand still while having long phone conversations or sit in couches or chairs. The play, which is already talky, feels stagnant.
For anyone who has been part of a family secret or has been betrayed by a parent, this story will feel eerily familiar. It’s worth asking if we, too, can look at our own histories from all sides.
