Boredom sets in early and sits down for a long respite during the ninety minutes of Dr. Ride’s American Beach House. Audience members noticeably squirm in their chairs. A few leave, noisily. This slice of semi-repressed lesbian Americana is underwhelming, cliched and an absolute waste of time.
Harriet and Mildred went to college together and studied poetry. That has led them to careers as waitresses in St. Louis. One is married with a child who is sick today. Mom’s not really in a rush to get home. The other has a boyfriend. She describes in detail a sexual liaison she has with a motorcycle guy. That story is so far from believable that it registers as amusingly ridiculous.
Both women hang on each other so casually that there is no doubt they are (or have been) lovers. After a work shift, they gather on Harriet’s rooftop to gather for the Two Serious Ladies Book Club. No books have been read. Instead, they drink beer and listen to the radio. They are excitedly anticipating the launching of the space shuttle Challenger the next morning. Sally Ride is going to make history.
Dr. Ride was closeted as are these women. It’s 1983 and a very different time. This play is blunt with the metaphors. These two close friends are in their thirties and life is eluding them. Mildred has invited Meg to the book club. She arrives wearing a Motorhead t-shirt and a backwards baseball cap. Her hairstyle screams BUTCH! She says, “I don’t hate men, they make me homicidal.”
Meg is the contrasting, very blunt counterpoint to these two women who are meandering through an unfocused life. At one point, Meg changes the music to heavy metal. She head bangs in her chair. The other two eventually start jumping up and down in a dance of sorts. The overtly obvious message is that these two lesbians yearn to be free like Meg. Presumably metal is a gateway? The scene is clumsy and cartoonish.
Another woman arrives to round out the lesbian stereotypes. She only cares about “safety and money.” Why is she in the house? Who cares. She has an unseen woman with her who never stops eating. Yes, Liza Birkenmeier’s play is that cliched.
As Harriet, Matilda and Meg, Kristen Sieh, Erin Markey and Marga Gomez are committed to their dialogue and produce good characterizations. Katie Brook’s direction dutifully stages the piece as written. The audience drops in on a conversation with little backstory ever explained. When snippets of information arrive, they seem forced. I was bored from start to finish.
Why did Sally Ride want to go into space? The funny theory offered was to “wave at the Russians” and “pray for you in your totalitarian darkness.” I suppose the juxtaposition between Dr. Rice’s closeted existence and these women fumbling to thrive during this era is an interesting conceit. I never got past the hoary stereotypes and general anesthesia of the evening.
Two women sat in front of us before this play began. One turned around to apologize. “I’m sorry, I’m top heavy… by that I mean tall.” She was indeed tall but not blocking our view. I assume the woman with her was her partner. She replied “she’s top heavy the other way, too.” The first responded, “Yes, I am.” We all laughed heartily. Neither of them seemed to respond enthusiastically when the show ended either.