Jaclyn Backhaus has written Wives as a proudly feminist comedic reprimand which rails against patriarchal history. This wildly uneven and ultimately unsatisfying short work ponders the women who had to sit on the sidelines of their husbands. After a few laughs, there is an epiphany of sorts which, like the universe, contains a lot of dead space.
This play contains four sections which are unconnected except thematically. Ms. Backhaus uses various eras to show disgruntled yet empowered women rising up against their tormentors (or buffoons depending on the vignette). The lack of any continuing narrative isn’t really the problem. It’s just a bit of clowning around before a bludgeon is used to mystically transcend space and time.
The first scene involves the French monarch Henri II, wife Catherine de’Medici and his mistress. Catherine says to him, “U fakeass bitch.” The language is vigorously contemporary and does produce laughs. We’ve all seen countless historical pieces where wives of these periods knew about their husband’s infidelities. This part felt like the appetizer to something bigger and better.
The entree portion of Wives is definitely the second section. The widows of Ernest Hemingway get together upon his death. All are dressed in black. They reminisce and drink a bunch of booze. A large marlin prop lambastes the trophy hunting of the alpha male stereotype.
When dessert arrives, it appears in the form of India when they were subjugated to the British. There’s a Maharajah and his wife. The target here, however, is the oppressive British male and his ineffective bumbling. The patriarchy is bad message is expanded to colonialism. That’s not a bad idea, just a very underdeveloped one.
Moving on quickly to after dinner drinks is when the ship steers violently off course. At Oxbridge University, a coven of academic witches have a club. A portrait of Virginia Woolf is on the wall. Eventually there will be a transcendental connection with the universe which can be described as both a feminist rallying cry and a speechifying mess. Maybe the after dinner drinks were eschewed for edibles in a legalized marijuana state?
All of this silly gobbledygook is handsomely staged by Director Margot Bordelon (from last year’s equally unremarkable Eddie and Dave). The pace is frantic as the material requires. All four actors do solid work in multiple roles, especially Adina Verson. She memorably opens the play as a 16th Century chef in the mold of Julia Child.
There are chuckles to be had while enduring Wives. Unlike Ms. Backhaus’ truly inspired Men on Boats, however, there’s nothing meaningful to absorb. In that play, an 1869 expedition down the Colorado River was reenacted by a female cast. That commentary on male bravado and aggressive masculinity was very effective.
Wives aspires to be a genre busting amorphous piece of theater. Unfortunately, this frequently boring amusement is stuck on the corner of incomplete and forgettable.
Wives is running through October 6th at Playwrights Horizons.