The Verge Off-Broadway Reviews

“The Verge,” directed by Jessie Austrian at the Public Theater, frequently refers to characters’ being “queer,” although in 1921, the word still mostly meant “strange.” Glaspell may not have been overtly (or consciously) referring to sa...

“The Verge,” directed by Jessie Austrian at the Public Theater, frequently refers to characters’ being “queer,” although in 1921, the word still mostly meant “strange.” Glaspell may not have been overtly (or consciously) referring to same-sex relationships, yet straight sexuality is certainly depicted as explicitly deranging.

You can see why the play is so seldom performed. This is a problematic show with all-too-rare flashes of genius and ahead-of-its-time perspectives. Despite some intermittently funny moments of farcical humor, which director Jessie Austrian stages eff...

You can see why the play is so seldom performed. This is a problematic show with all-too-rare flashes of genius and ahead-of-its-time perspectives. Despite some intermittently funny moments of farcical humor, which director Jessie Austrian stages effectively on the Lawence E. Moten III’s simple period set, there’s a lot of antiquated speechifying that makes The Verge a very long and rather dull sit.

And yet, it’s a tribute to the strength of Glaspell’s writing that this production’s oddities and shortcomings ultimately don’t matter all that much. If this revival garners enough interest among theatermakers to produce more of her work, per...

And yet, it’s a tribute to the strength of Glaspell’s writing that this production’s oddities and shortcomings ultimately don’t matter all that much. If this revival garners enough interest among theatermakers to produce more of her work, perhaps that means there will be more productions of this particular play to dig even deeper into the intricacies and nuances of its rich text. Based on the dark poetry and feminist verve of The Verge, Glaspell’s oeuvre is one worth rediscovering.

Silverman gives a strong central performance — angry, passionate, and playful — but the slow-paced direction by Jessie Austrian doesn't streamline the show, and some of the supporting players, especially Emily Young (as Claire’s sister) and Pac...

Silverman gives a strong central performance — angry, passionate, and playful — but the slow-paced direction by Jessie Austrian doesn't streamline the show, and some of the supporting players, especially Emily Young (as Claire’s sister) and Paco Tolson (as Claire’s best friend) fall flat. Lawrence E. Moten III's sets and Sarita P. Fellows's period costumes are delightful, though they can only do so much to alleviate the onerousness of the piece. The Verge explores a host of important themes — motherhood, mental health, eugenics, religion, art, and the aftermath of World War I — that offer a great deal to study and analyze, but this production does not make a case for it being performed.

A philosophical comedy with a tragic conclusion, The Verge studies an iconoclast whose anxiety provokes bouts of destructive behavior. Ultimately the verbose, symbol-coded play scarcely proves to be a lost masterpiece, but offers great interest to sc...

A philosophical comedy with a tragic conclusion, The Verge studies an iconoclast whose anxiety provokes bouts of destructive behavior. Ultimately the verbose, symbol-coded play scarcely proves to be a lost masterpiece, but offers great interest to scholars of course, and it’s a little late in the day anyway to criticize Glaspell’s dramaturgy. Personally speaking, it was a pleasure to finally make this play’s edgy acquaintance.

In the end, though, The Verge rises and falls on Claire, and Silverman’s Claire is a shot to the heart. On my way out of the theater, I walked behind two women discussing that they’d very much feared the play would end with Claire’s suicide (a ...

In the end, though, The Verge rises and falls on Claire, and Silverman’s Claire is a shot to the heart. On my way out of the theater, I walked behind two women discussing that they’d very much feared the play would end with Claire’s suicide (a la Hedda Gabler) or institutionalization. Instead, it leaves us with Claire triumphant, and the rest of the company–and ourselves–less sure than ever whether she’s inspirational or repulsive. But in her unwavering insistence on valuing originality for its own sake, for seeking to transcend what we know and are without equating transcendence and improvement, Claire spits in the face of our own age as much as her own. She reminded me that endless growth isn’t inherently a virtue. That AI can never produce the unexpected. That a woman has the right to determine her own fate and make her own terrible choices. That she can be monster, madwoman, genius, all at the same time.