Student Blog: Grief, Trauma, and Discovering What's 'In the Green'

In the Green, a new musical by Grace McLean (credits include Suffs, Great Comet of 1812, Alice by Heart, and many more), kicked off Webster University’s Conservatory season. I had the privilege of serving as the production’s Assistant Director, working alongside our director, Ellie Schwetye. This musical is a very unique piece of theater in a lot of ways. The majority of my time working on this production was spent going through it with a fine-toothed comb, finding all of the questions we needed answers to. What beats were really important because we come back to them later? What do some of these beats mean? Why are we singing in Latin and then not singing in Latin? Through that process of examination, discovery, and then eventually putting it up on its feet, I learned a lot about the kind of theater I want to make as a creative, the stories I want to tell, and all of the things theater can be. While I could talk about this show and the brilliance of McLean's work for hours and hours, here are a few of the biggest things I kept coming back to, both during my first read and now after we've closed the show.

Warning: the following includes potentially triggering topics, including sexual violence, death, abortion, and other related topics.

Background of the Show: In the Green is a pop-opera-style musical that captures the life of the Catholic saint Hildegard von Bingen, her thirty years in a cell with Jutta von Sponheim as an oblate, and her rise to popularity within the Benedictine church community. McLean’s take on these two historical women is less biographical and focuses more on their psychological journeys, breaking the character of Hildegard into three fragments, Hand, Eye, and Mouth. She also gives Jutta’s trauma a physical manifestation in the character of Shadow. In her retelling, she chooses to put a much smaller emphasis on religion in these two women’s lives, letting it exist as a commentary on contemporary society and less so on the church. While the story takes place in a cell in Germany in the 10th century, McLean has crafted a show that feels timeless and relevant to audiences today. Topics of feminine identity, grief, sexual violence against women, sisterhood, and the lack of female autonomy are relevant issues for the time of the piece, but are by no means distant ideas for today's audiences.

Hildegard Herself: To tackle this show without exploring Hildegard herself wouldn’t be doing the show justice. As a 10th-century mystic and exorcist, what we know about her is few and far between, especially pertaining to the time she spent in the cell with Jutta. What we do have, and what influences this show in a really beautiful way, is her writing, her music, and her art. Hildegard was revolutionary for her time, composing over 70 sacred songs, writing the first recorded morality play, running a healing ministry that was focused on natural science and the human body, and is credited with over 30 pieces of visual art. She was a shining example of the power women possessed. And yet, she is often forgotten about and swept under the rug historically. So, while we are still living in a time when women remain without the power and autonomy they deserve, revisiting figures like Hildegard and Jutta makes for a really impactful piece of art. Hildegard was not just an unattainable saint, but a deeply traumatized and humane woman. Jutta was not just a pious anchoress, but a broken woman who was taught from an early age that her only purpose was to be used. They both took action against and acknowledged the corruption of the world that robbed them of autonomy. 

Score Serving the Story: I would also be amiss not to talk about the music within this show. Pulling inspiration from music Hildegard wrote herself, McLean’s score is a blend of modern indie rock/pop, medieval hymns, jazz fugues, and a cappella-style vocal percussion, crafting a really unique sound. We even have some of Hildegard’s own music and writing included or translated within the show. At the heart of this score, and the show, is Jutta’s live vocal looping. For the audience, this looping creates the background music for several of Jutta’s songs and gives us some really strong musical motifs that we get to revisit throughout the show. Within the world of the show, this vocal looping is one of Jutta’s biggest coping mechanisms. She uses it as a way to demonstrate and exercise the control she possesses within the cell they are living in. Ultimately, this sense on control backfires on her. As the show progresses the loops become more restricting and less comforting, like the walls of the cell slowly closing in around her. In her final moments onstage, Jutta's live voice is drowned out by the cacophony of her own vocal loops, robbing us and her of the catharsis she hoped to find in death. Musicals and musicians who utilize live audio looping are not particularly common, but I think it opened up my eyes to the vastness of both the sound and the uses of music. While the looping sounds really cool and gives us some impressive moments, it also adds a really important story telling device to the show. It isn’t just a flashy piece of technology that was incorporated because someone thought it would be cool. It was grounded in the story being told. This is a great example of doing out-of-the-box things that support and uplift the text. The art that is this show is elevated in a really effective way because of this choice. It's a great reminder for all theater artists that centering yourself in the story you are telling and the message being shared will lead you to the best version of that thing.

Tackling Trauma & the Beauty It Carries: Another crucial aspect of the work is the emotional weight of its material. While handled with artistic taste, the show never shies away from life’s rawest truths. Both Hildegard and Jutta carry heavy past traumas that set the story in motion: Jutta survived being sexually assaulted by her brother as a child, a forced betrothal, and fleeing her family. Hildegard witnessed her sister’s fatal attempt to abort a pregnancy. While their trauma often feels like an oppressive shadow, McLean asks the question: What if our pain isn’t something to hide or run from, but something to share? What if the trauma we carry is not our darkness, but our source of light? We cannot deny our trauma; it is an undeniable part of who we are. Yet using our own brokenness to connect with others in their darkest moments creates a message that resonates with many on a very deep level. There is a powerful affirmation we see later in the show, after we learn that Shadow represents the banished, broken pieces of Jutta. When Hildegard, still literally fractured in three, recounts the night her sister died, Shadow catches a glimpse of Hildegard’s inner light. That light shines only after sharing her trauma. As Hildegard encourages Shadow to face Jutta, they sing: "I am a light, I am a blazing sun, I am illumination, I am a light. I am going to be alright." Seeing these four women unite to embrace the power in their brokenness, discarding all shame, builds a really profound moment that proves there is good that comes from stopping to face the dark.

Through Jutta, we also see the repercussions of burying that pain. Just before her death, Jutta delivers her 11 o’clock number, "The Ripening." Wrestling with the reality that doing everything "right" did not free her, she compares herself to a tree preparing to blossom, just to realize her leaves have already fallen. She has literally worked herself to death hoping obedience would grant her a light that would free her from grief, only to discover it gained her nothing. By denying herself the ability to live and love, she remained trapped. It is a sobering reminder that while grief requires processing, we must eventually step out of the cells we build around ourselves. Navigating these conversations in the rehearsal room may have been one of the hardest things I’ve done. As someone whose own lived experiences closely mirror the material, exploring these themes within a safe company opened my eyes to the importance of trauma-informed theater. To create work that allows people to feel seen, even in their darkest hours, is a true privilege and honor. 

Ending with an Exorcism: The ending of In the Green was the element I think I ended up doing the most research on, both from a historical lens and from a stylistic lens. It is such a jarring moment that feels like it comes out of nowhere, while also being subtly hinted at for quite a while. In the final number of the show, a fully spoken piece titled “Exorcism,” we meet Sigewize, a Cathar whose family and greater community were brutally murdered. She is, in a lot of ways, a direct reflection of Shadow (and is also played by the same actress). She is the inverse of Hildegard, and is here to be seen and heard, which is a motif Shadow carries for much of the show. But Shadow fades away with being unheard; Sigewize will not fade away. In this moment, McLean gives us this really unique opportunity to step back and really analyze Hildegard because, as we learn through this piece, it was her teachings that led to these mass murders. We watch Hildegard grow up, come to terms with her grief, and use what she’s learned to help a lot of people. We have really grown to sympathize and understand her, which is why I think this moment works so well. We have our protagonist who, though she has grown a great deal, has found herself aligned with an institution that believes in radical oneness. If you are not with us, you are opposed to us; you are a threat that must be eliminated. Sounds scarily familiar, doesn’t it? The show ends with this question of “who are you helping?” which, in a very Brechtian fashion, gives a call to action within the audience. We know there is an exorcism to be had, but the question is: who? Even with the good she has caused, is Hildegard innocent in this, as she did nothing to stop it? And are we guilty in the same way, turning a blind eye to the things we don’t want to see? It is a bold question to end a bold piece with, and I think it is brilliant. Being able to tell a story is already a challenging task, but to tell a story that then asks its audience to think about or even do something about it makes it all the more powerful.

Loving Who You Create With: This production will hold a very special place in my heart, not only for its content, but because of the people I got to share it with. I had the honor of working with seven of the most talented women I know: Grace Erickson (Jutta), Dylan Rhodes (Mouth), Sydney Rayne Carter (Hand), Angelina Powell (Eye), Siddalie Orgeron (Shadow), Ava Eckhard (Cover), and Audrey Curtis (Cover). Each one of these individuals did not shy away from tackling this material head-on. They came in with questions and ideas and were so focused on discovering what this piece was and who these characters were. They handled each page with such love, attention, and respect that it made my work quite easy. On top of that, I got to work with some phenomenal designers and directors, including: Ellie Schwetye (Director), Lori Pagano (Music Director), Jillian Staible (Scenic Design), Eve Garty (Lighting Design), Pratima Khatri (Costume Design), Salem Galloway (Wig, Hair, & Make-Up Design), and Sylvie Griffin (Sound Design). Each one of these individuals, both cast and production, really opened my eyes to how lucky I am to get to create alongside people who care about the art, the work, and the story. At the end of the day, that is really what theater is and has been about: the privilege of coming together with other creatives to tell a story that means something to you. And this team ensured that that was the case every single day. They each inspire me in so many ways, and their inspiration is the biggest thing I will take away from this process.

So, go out, create something that means something to you, and do it with people who love it just as much as you!