There are times when a marginalized voice chooses to respond to minimizing with a quiet dignity and a refusal to engage.
Other times, one responds with a passive-aggressive quips that cut deeply into one’s oppressor without causing any physical harm. Then, there are times you write plays that include a housewife who probably wants to kill her husband, and another housewife who becomes hypnotized from the sight of her own vagina in a hand mirror. Everyone manifests their feelings differently.
That’s the start of what we’re dealing with in Jen Silverman’s Collective Rage: A Play in Five Betties (through August 18 at Ashby Stage, Berkeley). One should know that the play’s full title continues “…in Essence, a Queer and Occasionally Hazardous Exploration; Do You Remember when You were in Middle School and You Read about Shackleton and How He Explored the Antartic?; Imagine the Antartic as a Pussy and It’s Sort of Like That”.
Yes, that’s the full title.
Clearly, Silverman went to a better school than I did, ‘cause I’d never heard of Shackleton until I encountered his name in videos by Irish lesbian YouTuber Diamanda Hagan, who has a penchant for doomed naval voyages and angry lesbianism. If she ever saw this play, she might like it.
As the title suggests, our farce follows five femmes, all of whom are named “Betty.” (This actually reminded me of how Heathers star Shannen Doherty had died just the week before I saw this play.) Betty 1 (Nicole Odell) is a rich white housewife with an ever-growing sense of stress borne of watching an endless news cycle of doom—that, and her husband is clearly cheating on her. She decides to throw a party.
One of the attendees is Betty 2 (Atosa Babaoff), a fellow housewife who, were she not at the party, would probably have no one to talk to—like, ever. They’re soon joined by the ditzy Betty 3 (linda maria girón), who just discovered lesbianism and already considers herself an expert at it. When Betty 3 holds her own party, she’s so eager to talk about her expertise in anatomy that she gets Betty 2 to do something she’s never done: look at her own vagina in a mirror. Her reaction is downright Nietzschian.
Betty 3 is also friends with Betty 4 (Raisa Donato), a full-fledged butch whose feelings for Betty 3 are more than platonic. After Betty 3 goes to see a play that is never named but is probably that Shakespeare play about dreams, she decides that she’s the ultimate expert in “thee-ah-tuh” and decides to put on her own play; namely, the play-within-the-play she just saw. This doesn’t thrill theatre-hater Betty 4, who vents their frustrations to fellow truck-lover, genderfluid Betty 5. When not working on trucks, Betty 5 is a personal trainer. As it happens, Betty 1 is looking for a physical outlet for her pent-up stress.
I haven’t even gotten into how all this comes together with all the Betties acting in Betty 3’s play, how Betty 2’s only real friend is a hand-puppet that delivers some trigger-warning “advice,” and how this eventually has our quintet eating ice cream.
Having seen many a Shotgun show in my day, Collective Rage is somewhat reminiscent of their 2018 production of Women Laughing Alone with Salad. I can’t say whether this show is in any way a reaction to that one, but the 2018 show was problematic and pretentious—white feminism posing as inclusive farce. Collective Rage doesn’t take itself that seriously. In fact, it often edges close to nihilism; as if Silverman had to consciously pull themselves back from that precipice several times.
An odd assessment of a farce, I know. But in addition to all the jokes mined from character tropes and jibes about 84-dollar theatre tickets, Silverman’s script has a “laugh to keep from crying” theme that’s impossible to ignore, even in a play about Betty 2 wanting to watch a documentary about lions masturbating instead. (An adequate use of one’s time, really.)
Fortunately, director Becca Wolf may have more of a handle on the disparate tones of the text than, possibly, the playwright. Wolf has directed pieces that focused more on what was unspoken (The Roommate), possibly with the use of live recording equipment (The Kilbanes’ Weightless). The latter touch appears here with the first-half of the play performed as a radio play-style, but the ceaseless over-the-top delivery and latter-half bombast come as a surprise.
Still, she has an apt ensemble at her disposal, starting with Killing My Lobster AD Nicole Odell. Having directed and filled in on her company’s shows this past year, it’s no surprise to watch Odell bring the same razor-sharp comedic timing to a Shotgun show. I’m not familiar with recent ACT MFA-grad Atosa Babaoff, but she brings a manic sadness and joy to Betty 2 that makes you hope she finds happiness, lest she go on a killing spree. linda maria girón has now stolen scenes in three Shotgun shows (Yerma, Dream Hou$e, Best Available), and now they have a fourth performance to a that collection. Although Betty 4’s Raisa Donato is more fight choreographer and Betty 5’s Skyler Cooper’s work is unknown to me, watching them kvetch about dating while randomly rotating socket wrenches is an unexpected delight.
I was actually on a BART train on my way to the opening night show when those plans became suddenly postponed. I wound up moving my seats to the next day, the show’s only COVID-safe masked matinee. Running 90-100 minutes with no intermission, my Aranet4’s CO² readings peaked around 1847ppm about halfway through. That’s actually pretty low for a Shotgun show, and it went down to 1188ppm by the final bow.
Collective Rage is a “throw everything at the wall” show that mostly works. As always, the thing about constantly going at high-volume means that it eventually becomes white noise. Still, a steady directorial hand and a confident cast keep the unwieldy show from veering completely off the road.
COLLECTIVE RAGE runs through the August 18 at the Ashby Stage, Berkeley. Tickets and further info here.
