Review: #DEATHPARTY Opens Women's Fest

D.C.'s ambitious Women's Voices Theater Festival this fall involves more than 50 regional theaters premiering what's billed as the largest number of original works by female writers in history. It has begun, humbly, in the modest Callan Theatre at Catholic University, where patrons have to led through a couple of doors and up some stairs to their seats.

The two one-act premieres are from the Longacre Lea company and both employ, in one way or another, a hospital set. And because both "How We Died of Disease-Related Illness" by Miranda Rose Hall and "Bones in Whispers" by Kathleen Akerley result in some dead bodies lying around (spoiler alert), they are presented under the uncheery Twitter-ready hashtag #DeathParty.

What's glimpsed through the paired full-length plays at the dawn of the festival is the variety of approaches and tone that can result - as well as the evaporation of mere gender identification. Akerley's "Bones in Whispers" is good theater from whatever source. With a solid, serious cast and an effective use of flashlights in the dark, it evokes the mystery and dystopian drama with the best promises of "Lost," while achieving what that much loved TV series did not, a cognizant, thoughtful conclusion.

Like "The Walking Dead," it involves an unlikely band of survivors of some kind of global disaster that, as in "The Leftovers," resulted in the mass disappearance or death of many. They have to defend their newly-found turf (an abandoned hospital) from other groups, but, as in "Lost," they have to do a ritual at prescribed moments to ensure more hell won't occur. Instead of hitting a button, it's doing a group dance number. And in this, it's a little like "Big Brother," in which houseguests are forced to dance all hours of the day and night once so prompted (and yes, I watch too much TV).

Describing how the group came together and what befalls them can undermine a crackling theatrical experience that left a recent audience rapt and reflective. But Akerley's direction of her own work is unwavering and convincing, even when the stakes get wilder and wilder.

By contrast, Hall's "How We Died" seems like a series of sketches built around the idea of a communicable disease ravaging a hospital. A world that only last year witnessed the ebola crisis only last year may not be ready for such cavalier treatment.

There are highlights to the play, also directed by Ackerley, particularly Ashley DeMain as a constantly rising employee within the building and Alejandro Ruiz as an understandably unsettled patient. Amal Saade is good, too, as a kind of unhinged medical worker and Tia Shearer is a surprising standout late in the play in part because she really does look like Joan of Arc.

But where is this play going? Its commentary on the state of health care and dealing with a disease is a little too broad to be effective, or particularly funny. For now, it seems a random set of scenes that may need more honing.

But that is in opposition to the very strong end of the night, strengthened by performances from Matthew Alan Ward, Tamieka Chavis, Tom Carman and Jorge A. Silva, among others Both plays are enhanced by John Burkland's lighting design and Neil McFadden's ominous sound design, particularly in "Bones in Whispers."

#DeathParty, it turns out, is neither. But it's a good indication that new plays by women span the gamut, just like those of dudes.

The Longacre Lea productions of "How We Died of Disease-Related Illness" and "Bones in Whispers" continues through Sept. 6 at the Callan Theatre, 3801 Harewood Road, NE. Information: 202-460-2188 or www.longacrelea.org.

Photo credit: C. Stanley Photography

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