Exhibitionism

Sisters of the Skin

Almost everything about Paradox Players’ production of local playwright Paullette MacDougal’s new script Sisters of the Skin feels like a homey community production. From the linoleum floor of the well-kept First Unitarian Universalist Church to the rows of straight-backed parish hall chairs and the genial crowd of sixtysomethings filling them, the production charmed me deep down, even though my seat in the fourth row prevented me from seeing some of the action onstage.

Sisters of the Skin tells the unlikely but true Civil War-era story of slave Mary Bowser, whose owner, Elizabeth “Crazy Bette” Van Lew, is an abolitionist Southern belle determined to spy on her neighbors in the Confederate White House and pass their secrets to the Union generals. So when Mrs. Jefferson Davis needs a new household servant, Crazy Bette jumps at the chance to loan hers, in spite of the disobedient and headstrong personality that Mary has developed in a household of masters who treat her as an equal and even – on penalty of death – taught her to read. Mary’s literacy helps her relay Confederate secrets, but it is also her undoing.

MacDougal fashions her play around three lengthy, dramatic monologues – one for each woman – and the audience is thrice transformed: a Quaker assembly for Van Lew; a group of freed slaves for Bowser; and, for Davis, a gaggle of greedy postwar reporters. But though the ensemble gives fairly strong performances, the monologues feel stilted and occasionally melodramatic; for example, when Bowser – played with guts and glory by Rodnesha K. Green – describes the deaths of African captives aboard a slave ship, the lights behind the pulpit at which she stands glow a menacing red. Still, the characters, particularly Crazy Bette (a maternal Rae Peterson), are three-dimensional and the story is compelling.

The play’s greatest strength lies in its dialogue, which, unfortunately, comes few and far between. Though the monologues are overly expository, the scenes between the women are delightful and well-timed – especially the climactic scene that ends Act I, in which Verina Davis (a poised Peggy Schott) babbles distractedly as infuriated Mary nearly smears cake in her mistress’ primped hair.

Script aside, Sisters of the Skin is a heartfelt community show that aims for high production values: a lovely backdrop featuring a cherry tree that blossoms over yellowed book pages, sweeping hoop-skirted costumes, and quaint period furniture and props. But the best and most emotional part of the evening is the Heritage Chorale, directed by Madeline P. McCauley. This newly formed, all African-American ensemble infuses each scene change with the pain and joys of emancipation – giving a gentle, beautiful reminder of our country’s centuries-old fight for universal civil rights.

This article appears in May 18 • 2012.