An American Daughter, produced by the Black Theater Ensemble and the Mask and Bauble Dramatic Society, is a play without a Hollywood ending. In fact, it’s a play that leaves you frustrated – frustrated with the characters, frustrated with society, frustrated with politics – and unfulfilled. And that’s exactly how the playwrights want you to feel.
Starring Mollie Rodgers (COL ’17) as Dr. Lyssa Hughes Dent, a wife, mother, senator’s daughter, Georgetown resident, and “American daughter” running to be Surgeon General, the play takes a heartbreakingly realistic take on women in politics. Dent, the working mom who’s perpetually folding laundry, is confronted by a new wave of feminism during her campaign, embodied by Quincey Quince (Allison Lane [COL ’19]).
Quince is a former star-student, author, and mistress of Dent’s husband, Walter Abrahamson (Alec Meguid). Dent’s campaign is made tumultuous by Abrahamson’s best friend, Morrow McCarthy (Daniel Ruescher [COL ’20]), who draws attention to the fact that Dent has ignored all summons to jury duty, and the campaign devolves into a battle to refocus on the bigger picture.
Although thematically engaging, the play is bland on the surface level. It initially probes the same stresses as experienced in a romantic comedy, the “What is she doing?!” and “Oh no don’t do that!” that make you want to cover your eyes and run out of anxiety, and this elicits a similar tone of humor.
Deeper analysis, however, shows that the play makes a poignant argument. It illuminates social problems that have become so commonplace and expected that they’re no longer shocking. With the structure and overlap of today’s media and politics, it often seems as though every decision a candidate makes or has made is scrutinized and torn apart by the media. This is especially true for (although not limited to) women in politics, where not only political decisions, but also fashion choices and the political decisions of family members are brought to light (just one episode of Veep will make this clear). As a result, only the best liars or the toughest of the tough survive, and these practices have become such a trend that anything but would seem too easy.
It quietly shuns stereotypes too, so quietly that you may not even realize until reading the program after. This isn’t a bad thing, quite the opposite; it invites a subconscious reversal of presumption. As the program says, “If an individual is gay, we might assume them to be Democratic, while if they are Jewish, we might assume them to be white…Morrow, Judith, and the other’s in Lyssa’s world remind us that our identities and experiences intersect, and when we stereotype others, we lose out on the opportunity to fully understand that intersectionality.” With Morrow (who is both gay and Republican) and Judith ( who is both black and Jewish) being witness to and cause of many a pivotal scene, the power of their characters (and the great acting) mutes any presumptions one may have, so that in viewing their performance the only thought one may is is that “this feels right.”
Although the actors were committed to their performances,, the character-habits the actors locked themselves to were distracting at points. Abrahamson kept his hands on his hips and his spine leaning forward, playing the role of the chastising father in all conversations. Dent speaks in the voice of pretentious socialite from a former era. The acting was grounded by best friends Morrow McCarthy, and journalist Timer Tucker (Ali Coopersmith [COL ’18]) – the ripe supporting characters that outshone the leads.
The friends, Dent and Kaufmann, have their share of struggles throughout the play, struggles that go unvocalized until a big reveal that the other responds inadequately to and turn into struggles that will never be brought up again. Their solely topical relationship proves to be one of the only fidelities Dent experiences as she is disappointed by both husband, endorser, and friend. Both Dent and Kaufmann are too preoccupied with their own lives to ask about or devote emotion to the other, and,despite this, each defends the other as needed.
In its entirety, An American Daughter is a thought-provoking exploration of relationships. The “American daughter” of the play, Dr. Dent, realizes that her campaign for surgeon general becomes a fight for modern-day women in politics and the feminists behind them as she tries to juggle a bipartisan system and appeal to all demographics and social classes. She is forced to mold her personality and her beliefs to make her plea to America, to ask forgiveness for an action that can be read as either a pretentious ignorance or a working woman’s oversight.
Ending in resignation, Dent retires from the political playing field before the election. It’s a blow to feminism and demonstrative of the power of the media. Dent never closes the plethora of holes in the story: there is no apology for not helping her suicidal best friend in her time of need, no explosive fight between wife and adulturing husband, no overwhelming self-confidence to continue the fight for her dream job. The only change is in music, as she removes her husband’s favorite record, the Beach Boys, to the favorite of her father’s fourth wife, Charlotte “Chubby” Hughes (Lura Auel [NHS ’18]). The classical record, which had been hidden under the couch, begins to play during Dent’s moment of final resignation, as she aligns her hidden self with Chubby and returns to medicine.
