My Mama and the Full-Scale Invasion, Woolly Mammoth Theatre, Washington, DC
Suli Holum as Daughter (L) and Holly Twyford as Mama (R, projected onto the exterior of her apartment) in My Mama and the Full-Scale Invasion at Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company. Photo credit: DJ Corey Photography.
Kyiv, the capital of Ukraine, is more than 5000 miles from
Washington, DC. A bit of Ukraine, however, is alive and fighting on D St. NW,
where the Woolly Mammoth Theatre (in a co-production with Philadelphia’s Wilma
Theatre) stages the world premiere of an important new play, continuing through
October 8. Sure, you can read about the Ukrainian invasion by the Russians online
or catch a report on the news. But if you really want to understand, see My
Mama and the Full-Scale Invasion by Ukrainian playwright Sasha Denisova.
The program’s “About the Show” provides a more concise
summary than I could create:
Sasha’s 82-year-old mother, Olga,
is on the frontlines of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, having lived in Kyiv her
whole life. Olga is thrust into increasingly fantastical situations: she
strategizes with President Zelenskyy, strikes Russian drones with jars of
pickles, and even debates with God. Inspired by online chats with her mother,
playwright Sasha Denisova brings us this new play about a family’s connection
and legacy amidst the present-day war and global crisis.
Inventively staged by director Yury Urnov (who happens to be
Russian), My Mama shows us that war is not only about the big events,
but the little moments in the lives of ordinary people. Wars are fought not
just by soldiers, but also by the civilians left behind.
We first meet the character described as Daughter, based on the
playwright, who speaks directly to the audience and provides us with the
background we need. A theatre director, she has been working in Moscow, but when
the invasion begins, she escapes to Poland and tries desperately to convince her
mother to join her there. Resolutely, Mama refuses. Her kitchen is in Kyiv!
Besides, with her feet and legs in the shape they are in, the buses would be
too painful to manage. No, she will stay, she will adapt, she will stuff some
peppers and keep going. She needs to stay in Kyiv, perhaps believing
that her presence is key to its defense. Many of the conversations between Mama
and her daughter are realistic recreations of actual or imagined conversations.
But in her fantasy life, Mama imagines conversations with Ukrainian President
Volodymyr Zelenskyy, French President Emmanuel Macron, German Chancellor Olaf
Scholz, and President Joe Biden, not to mention confronting God and giving him
a piece of her mind.
Joe Biden calls on Mama: Holly Twyford (L) as Mama, Lindsay Smiling (C) as Man, and Suli Holman (R) as Daughter in My Mama and the Full-Scale Invasion at Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company. Photo credit: DJ Corey.
We see Mama and her husband going through the mundane
trivialities of life, interrupted but never stopped by nearby explosions. Mama
is rarely without a cigarette as we see her conversing with her daughter by
phone, text, and video chat.
We move backward and forward in time. Mama is an engineer, a
woman of science. She never quite understands her daughter, whose world
consists of theatre and other arts. (She wonders at one point if the hospital
might have switched babies, her daughter is so different. But then again,
Mama’s mother was a writer who didn’t quite understand her.) Mama never quite
manages to compliment her daughter, despite her considerable accomplishments,
and often reminds her that because of her daughter’s birth, she never completed
her doctoral dissertation. Still, there is affection between them.
Director Urnov directs with a sure hand as he masterfully
and seamlessly mixes on-stage action with televised projections and animations,
more effectively than other productions I have seen. Projection designer Kelly
Colburn deserves great credit as the projections use various surfaces for
backgrounds and rely on Tik-Tok-like special effects; some are realistic
images, with a few very witty animations, assisted by Venus Gulbranson’s
lighting design. Costume designer Ivania Stack has created costumes that are
memorable and appropriate. Set designer (and, not-so-coincidentally,
translator) Misha Kachman has created a confined but not claustrophobic
environment for Mama’s apartment, rotating so that we see the apartment from
all angles. Mama leaves the apartment only in flashbacks or when climbing to
the roof to confront God. (A projection above the action reads, “Mama Demands
Divine Intervention.”) The unified nature of the production indicates a great
deal of effective collaboration among the creative team members.
The cast of three creates far more than three characters. “Man,” in the person of Lindsay Smiling, for example, is Mama’s husband but also appears persuasively as Joe Biden, God, and Mama’s mother. Suli Holum embodies a certain earnestness as “Daughter” but also slips into a mask as “the Putin” (in Mama’s lingo) in one of Mama’s fantasies when Mama, Biden, and “the Putin” are all in her apartment. Holum manages to convey her concern for Mama, but also her amusement and admiration.
Holly Twyford, a five-time Helen Hayes Award winner, is DC
theatre royalty, and her performance in My Mama confirms it. The program
lists her character as “Mother,” but that is too sterile, too generic for me to
use. Twyford isn’t Mother, she is Mama, a much more personal (and relatable)
moniker. Twyford convinces us that she is a feisty, quirky Ukrainian woman in
her 80s, as well as a much younger woman in flashback. Twyford’s portrayal of
Mama lets us see how resilient the Ukrainian people are, an embodiment of the
determination that kept Russia from conquering Ukraine not in three days (as
was the original plan), nor in the 27 months since the fateful day of February
24, 2022.
You may remember when Reader’s Digest had a “my most
unforgettable character” feature. Twyford’s Mama fits that description
perfectly.
Theatre usually takes longer than other art forms to respond
to and analyze current events, so Denisova’s play is a rarity in its “ripped
from the headlines” urgency. My Mama should be seen by large audiences
who are sure to appreciate Denisova’s way with writing dialogue, her humor, and
her humanity. (We even get to “meet” Denisova’s real Mama at the end of the
play, and she is exactly who we expect her to be.) Denisova has created a work
that manages to portray the intense reality of war with resistant hope and
humor. A play about the invasion of Ukraine by those Mama deems as “Ruscists”
(Russian Fascists) with laughs? Yes, and many of them. In essence, humor is
hope.
Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy (a former actor
himself) is visiting Washington this week. What a treat it would be for
him to see how this play dramatizes the resolve and the ethos of the citizens
of his country. I’m sure Mama could stuff some peppers for him for dinner.
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