Review: THE BODY'S MIDNIGHT at 100 Lives Repertory

It took about 10 seconds for tears to well up in my eyes during the opening monologue of THE BODY'S MIDNIGHT. They stayed there, occasionally spilling over, for the rest of Tira Palmquist's exquisite play. This show is just the second production by 100 Lives Repertory, but it firmly establishes them as a company that produces work that moves you deeply and refuses to let go.

Anne (Sharonlee McLean) and David (Blaine Palmer) set out on a cross-country road trip to St. Paul, Minnesota, where their daughter Katie (Annie Kehoe) is about to give birth to their first grandchild. They have a carefully planned itinerary of the typical greatest hits (Mt. Rushmore, the Grand Canyon, etc.). But a chance encounter with a truck driver changes everything. Anne decides she wants to see all of the disappearing things instead: glaciers, roadside attractions, ghost towns.

Because Anne herself is afraid of disappearing. She's a poet who recently received a devastating diagnosis, and she's struggling with the idea that her words and her memory, both central parts of her identity, are slipping away. Along the journey, Anne and David encounter a parade of eccentric characters (all played by Jonathan Hoonhout and Annie Kehoe) who show up unbidden, start strangely personal conversations, and often offer unsolicited but somehow exactly right advice.

Palmquist was a poet before she was a playwright, and you can feel that in every line. The script is beautifully written and funny (Palmquist said in a talkback that she doesn't like anything "maudlin"), full of strange and wonderful people, occasional dream sequences, and flights of fancy. But underneath all of that is a quietly devastating exploration of the ephemeral nature of life.

McLean inhabits Anne with such emotional honesty that you forget you're watching a performance. I felt every minute of her struggle – laughing when she laughed, getting angry when she got angry. It’s a truly extraordinary performance, especially in the tiny space that is The Spotlight Theatre. 

THE BODY'S MIDNIGHT is about impermanence, about facing the unknown, and about our natural human tendency to hold onto the things we love as tightly as we can. It’s also about caregiving. Not just the obvious caregiving of spouses and parents and doctors, but all the small acts of care embedded in everyday interactions with strangers. This is a must-see production. Go with someone whose hand you can hold.

THE BODY'S MIDNIGHT runs through March 1. Details and tickets here.