“Do you want to know the real, real truth?”
Throughout the course of “Death and the Maiden,” each of the three characters endeavors to reveal the real, real truth, but in a country where secrecy and lies permeate culture from the top down, such truth is hidden behind a veil of politics, deception and hidden agendas.
The action takes place in the beach villa of Gerardo and Paulina Escobar, and the subtle lull of waves lapping against the beach establishes a tone in stark contrast to the dissolving world within. When Dr. Roberto Miranda finds himself a guest in their home for a night, Paulina believes him to be the man who orchestrated her kidnapping, rape and torture 15 years ago and takes it upon herself to put him on trial in their own living room.
The question of Roberto’s guilt or innocence is at the forefront of the ensuing events, and as internal conflict of morality and vengeance threatens division between husband and wife, the only way for the trio to make it out alive is to arrive at a destination that resembles justice.
Set in a fictional country based on the true events of Chile in the late 20th century, “Death and the Maiden” grapples with the inevitable issue of justice, generating more questions than it answers:
What is justice? Who deserves it? Who should administer it? Can justice be in the hands of mortals, or of God alone? Does justice outlast death? Who benefits when the truth is out? What is irreparable and what can be forgiven?
As Gerardo puts it, “people can die from an excessive dose of truth.”
From the beginning, the stakes are high, and death is always on the line. While the beginning of the play gets off to a laborious and somewhat implausible start, once the gun comes out, the air is sucked out of the room, not to return until the house doors finally open into the night.
Playwright Ariel Dorfman’s dialogue is absolutely loaded with triggers early on, establishing motifs through words that will become important in ways that don’t become clear until much later. It is at times self-aware, describing actions as “monologues,” “dialogues” and “playing roles.” The actors’ line delivery, sing-songy and poetic, matches the writing well, which is chock-full of proverbs, speeches and epigrams, reminiscent — though slightly out of touch with — real life speech.
In many ways, the play walks a delicate line between realism and expressionism, reflected through the dialogue as well as the carefully-detailed set, designed by David Vogel.
The beach house is adorned just as a house of the 1970s, complete with a leaded slag lampshade; however, the house sits at a slight slant, angled toward the audience and slightly non-parallel to the front of the stage. Windows and door frames remind us that it is a house, but one that the audience can see through voyeuristically, and the wings display abstract, fluid patterns that match an unstable world.
The subject matter is no easy material to work with — strong language and themes of sexual assault, torture and physical abuse make it suitable only for mature audiences — and yet the actors fall into stride, handling every movement and line with a surgeon’s precision for 90 uninterrupted minutes.
Robin Vogel (Paulina), a 2023 Albright College graduate, evokes humanity brilliantly, not relying on the play’s shock value for effect, but bringing a raw lack of willingness to be real — something much more difficult yet much more true to life.
Alex Schmidt ’27 (Gerardo) takes on his second role at Wabash, and while bringing the role of Nostradamus to life in the November 2023 performance of “Something Rotten!” wowed crowds, a show like “Death and the Maiden” requires a vulnerability and truthfulness that is a big ask of any actor, especially a freshman. Cast all worries aside, as Schmidt delivers once again.
The true stand-out of the show, however, is newcomer Preston Parker ’26 (Roberto). Ironically, he does very little standing, spending nearly the entire play bound and tied to a chair. He’s even gagged for a long spell, forcing Parker to act through emotion alone, which he finds creative ways to do, heightening the stakes and elevating the desperation and emotion of the play. For “Death and the Maiden” to truly succeed, the audience must be kept wondering if Roberto is innocent. The evidence, frankly, is against him, and yet Parker always maintains an air of innocence that keeps the show afloat.
The real tragedy of this show is how far the audience is kept from the action. A play like “Death and the Maiden” seems like a natural fit for an intimate venue like the black-box Experimental Theater, where the audience exists in the middle of the action, intensifying the already-intense play.
However, art is about making decisions and taking risks, and the risks Director Heidi Winters Vogel and company take in “Death and the Maiden” pay off exponentially, in so many ways.
