Étude

Ashley Griffin and Ryan McCurdy in Étude by Ashley Griffin. Photo by Micah Joel Photography

Ashley Griffin (Soul 1) and Ryan McCurdy (Soul 2). Photo by Micah Joel Photography

How on earth is such exquisite writing being relegated to a small, off the beaten path theater with no publicity to speak of? Seeing this play is like, and I don't say this lightly, going to see a show being put on in someone's living room and it turns out to be the world premiere of Hamlet

Étude, a new play by Ashley Griffin, is poetry in the most beautiful sense of what that can mean in a play (no, I don't mean literal poetry.) The language is so deeply profound I found myself crying at the end. The story is both incredibly simple and deeply complex. Griffin has woven together a stunning tapestry of characters, themes and ideas. And the script is TIGHT. This is officially a workshop production, but this  piece that's ready to go.

The basic plot is this: two souls wait to be born. They are soulmates (no, not necessarily romantic, this piece explores all the different things the term "soulmate" can mean). They wonder what it will be like to be alive. Finally Soul 1 (Ashley Griffin) is called to be born...but without Soul 2 (Ryan McCurdy). They will be separated. They may never see each other again (it is likely that Soul 1's life will be over by the time Soul 2 is finally born.) 

The rest of the play follows the Souls as they are incarnated (and reincarnated) over the course of three hundred years - starting in 1820 and stretching to the 2120's as the piece asks: can love and eternal connection survive the trials and tribulations of life? Their bond is tested, sometimes with devastating consequences, sometimes resulting in beautiful acts of love, faith and forgiveness, over and over, until they are ultimately reunited in their pure "soul" state. Their incarnations take them from siblings in the American south during the dustbowl, to classmates in Wales in the 1960's, to a couple married for forty years who are now in the throws of an Alzheimers diagnosis (trigger warning), and everything in-between. The actors are called upon to play characters ranging in age from twelve to sixty from a wide variety of locals (and with a record number of accents (well executed here, thank goodness!)), social classes, relationships and so on. Each scene is a gem - the returning suspense of "who will they be NEXT" creates a rare theatrical excitement, and the sadness of only getting to experience one (at most two) scenes with each character drives home the tragedy of life's fleetingness. The characters also start to "echo" between incarnations...1820's poet Emmeline Mary Stephen's work is discovered by 1900's aristocrat Jonathan Devereux -  her poems galvanizing him to "self discovery" (connecting the souls even when they're not alive at the same time). Real historical events interweave with the story, and later incarnations reference things we have already experienced. The things that matter ripple throughout time - almost akin to Stoppard's famous sentiment. A tapestry is truly the best way to describe the craftsmanship of the writing.

Ashley Griffin and Ryan McCurdy in Étude by Ashley Griffin. Photo by Micah Joel Photography

Ashley Griffin (Soul 1) and Ryan McCurdy (Soul 2). Photo by Micah Joel Photography

But the through line of the "souls" is always the beating heart at the center of everything. Even when scenes could seem unrelated on the surface they are most definitely NOT. In the first scene the Souls say "I love you" to each other. It is sincere, but "easy". In the last scene the Souls again tell each other "I love you" - but now it is a love that has cost something. That has been tried. That has been CHOSEN and fought for. Étude is the best argument I've seen for such a sentiment. What a beautiful case of "show don't tell". In the first scene Soul 2 wonders if the "point" of life is to "learn". Soul 1 asks: "Learn what?" The play is an answer to that question and I feel like, in a way, I somewhat understand the answer a little bit better now, though I can't even begin to articulate it. It also (thank goodness!) steers VERY clear of the typical "soulmates" tropes. This is not a story about how you have to "find your person" or that the "meaning of life" is found in someone else. Soul 1 and Soul 2 do not find meaning in simply finding each other. Rather, they are fellow travelers who help each other in the "quest" of living. The two actors never even kiss on the lips (what would traditionally be the climax of any soulmate narrative), and yet this is one of the most beautiful love stories I've ever seen. I think it exemplifies the idea of "soulmates", in terms of what we should be to each other on this earth, far more than the kind the "twin flame" sentiment purports. 

Ashley Griffin and Ryan McCurdy in Étude by Ashley Griffin. Photo by Micah Joel Photography

Ashley Griffin (Soul 1) and Ryan McCurdy (Soul 2). Photo by Micah Joel Photography.

The piece is ambitious. I can't think of anything else quite like it. By rights it shouldn't work. But thanks to two tour de force performances and writing that works palpable magic and is reaching Herculean levels of heavy lifting to ground and stabilize the piece, it does. This is a show that acting students will be clambering to do scenes from for years to come, but most will probably end up being a little overwhelmed by the depths of the material. Perhaps my favorite thing is how it's found a way to, for lack of a better description, utilize grounded magical realism. Our experience of the story is watching two beings thrown into a strange world full of wonders and horrors, and trying to find their way out. It could be a kind of "Wizard of Oz" or even "Labyrinth" (character Zoe's favorite movie). But the beings are US, and the strange world is earth. LIFE is the fantastical realm full of dreams and terrors. This effect is not only achieved through the strong execution of the central conceit and story, but in how it makes ordinary life FEEL etherial, magical, and uniquely high stakes. In one especially magical moment we watch a delicate Jane enter a seemingly empty stage. She's distraught. Scared. She's clearly headed somewhere she doesn't want to go, and almost turns back. Finally, she sits, trying to decide what to do. There are only two people in the show - and now we're waiting for the inevitable entrance of the other character. It borders on mundane. The kind of opening to a scene acting students would attempt, trying to make the "will I stay or will I go" believable. But here, our expectations are shattered. The other character doesn't arrive. Instead, two puppets do. They start to perform a show, see Jane and begin to interact with her. It starts to feel like she might have just stumbled on a portal to a much kinder, magical world. But, most potently, what comes out of that moment with the puppets, and the eventual reveal of the person behind them, somehow keeps that magic going...taking everything we've just felt and disbursing it into REAL life. It's absolutely genius.  (There is also a second puppetry scene that is such a profound gut punch I don't want to spoil it. If you only think of puppets in a "Sesame Street" sense, this is a show that will introduce you to the depths that the art form can go. There was a gasp in the audience when that moment began.)

Ashley Griffin and Ryan McCurdy in Étude by Ashley Griffin. Photo by Micah Joel Photography

Ryan McCurdy (Soul 2). Photo by Micah Joel Photography

Ryan McCurdy is fantastic as Soul 2. He has a charming, beautiful presence and gives a rare, sensitive performance. Soul 2's journey is one of having his understanding of life completely upended. Before being born he says that his goal on earth is to "enjoy things", which he proceeds to do in his first incarnation as the comically self-absorbed aristocrat Jonathan. But, in his second incarnation, as angsty, abused seventeen year old Tom in the Kansas dustbowl, he must face the fact that life is not out to just show him a good time. It doesn't go very well, and he must claw his way to finding true joy, even amidst life's sorrows, over his next four incarnations. He must also grapple with the fact that his "essence" is rooted in kindness, yet he exists in a world where "masculine" and "kindness" are mutually exclusive. It was heartbreaking to watch McCurdy's Tom - a kid desperate to be "man" enough for the world, but who can't even keep his father from abusing him and his sister. McCurdy is the actor called upon to utilize serious puppetry skills. The puppets, as mentioned, were a highlight of the evening (both McCurdy's performance and the context in which the puppetry is utilized.) Perhaps my two favorite "roles" of his were Corey - the puppeteer with a painful stutter that only ever goes away when he's speaking through puppets, who is facing the same kindness vs. fear battle that Tom did, only now in a more tentatively courageous, self-possessed way. And his final incarnation, Luan - a noted anthropologist, deeply in love with his wife, who is experiencing early onset Alzheimer's. Anyone unfortunate enough to have a loved one with the disease will recognize the touching portrayal by McCurdy of a man losing himself while desperately trying to hold on to love. There are moments when all that changes is, for lack of a better description, the light in McCurdy's eyes to let you know if Luan is present or not. I loved the balance he struck between Tom's sensitivity, and his outbursts that more than border on violence - which give us an honest look at a complex character who is at once deeply flawed, and hurt, but also aspires to be a truly good man (and the way Tom changed in his second scene (the one time we get to see McCurdy repeat a character) was so smartly done.) I loved his Patrick who gently goes toe to toe with angsty, intimidating Zoe. His twelve-year-old, innocently lovesick Cai. All his incarnations are transformational and terrifically crafted. There is much to admire in McCurdy's work. He is a phenomenal talent.

Ashley Griffin and Ryan McCurdy in Étude by Ashley Griffin. Photo by Micah Joel Photography

Ashley Griffin (Soul 1) and Ryan McCurdy (Soul 2). Photo by Micah Joel Photography

Ashley Griffin is a revelation. She is the poster child for how writers being in their own work can go so, so right. She transforms into her characters with such skill it's hard to believe it's only one person playing all those different roles. Her Soul 1 goes on a very different journey from Soul 2. Soul 1 has the meaning of life figured out on her first go around. Her trial is holding onto it. Her first incarnation is the brilliant poet Emmeline, and we learn that the central theme of her star-making poem, "Étude" is: "love is life's étude". One we must practice over and over until we learn it, understand it, and then have it become a part of us. It is also, easily, the theme of the show. Études, for anyone who doesn't know, are artistically beautiful piano pieces that are played to get better at a particular technique or skill. The metaphor is genius, and Soul 1 drives home the pain of having to combat the trials of love over, and over, and over again. She experiences painful betrayal and suffering early on, and must make hard decisions about forgiveness, bravery and trust. Soul 1's second incarnation is Tom's clever, sensitive, energetic little sister Charlotte (Charley), and it was one of the most excruciating moments I've seen onstage watching Griffin embody the innocent, joyful Charley have her most precious qualities ripped from her in an instant when she realizes that even the strongest, most loving bonds can be broken. Worse - on purpose. Soul 1 goes on to become imperious, wannabe mean girl Lydia, Zoe - an utterly angsty, wounded teen about to age out of the foster care system, our lovely Jane - a fragile, shy woman kicked out of her elite, wealthy family because she revealed their abuse, and elderly Alyss (pronounced "Alice") facing the loss of her beloved husband. Whereas Soul 2 is kind in a world where that is a "flaw", Soul 1 is "brilliant" in a world where that's often unacceptable for women. Even wise little sister Charlie is kicked down by her brother when she offers pearls of deep wisdom - mocked for being "too much".  

Griffin is so organic it's staggering. I loved the sudden edge she had as Zoe - the only time Soul 1 ever felt potentially "dangerous". I adored her Jane - who felt like a butterfly who might get crushed if the wind blew her the wrong way (a shocking juxtaposition to Zoe who immediately proceeds her). Griffin has stunning access to her emotions, but is intelligent about when she reveals them. When they're finally released, the effect is heartbreaking - probably most so with Jane and Alyss. The last we see of the Souls incarnated is Alyss speaking ten years after her husband's death and OMG I don't know if I've ever seen something quite so honest onstage. Griffin is young (she appears to be in her late 20's), but here she beautifully embodies a woman nearing the end of her life. Her physicality and vocal performance (as do McCurdy's) feel real, not "put on". They do with all her characters. One would imagine it is challenging, but not impossible, to embody an age you once were (she is incredible as the young children Charley and Lydia), but how does one equally embody an age you will not come close to for decades? (Though, I suppose, if you're going to ask that you have to also ask how someone her age wrote something so profound in the first place.) The language of the play in her mouth is pure gold. Griffin has a couple of extended monologues alone onstage, and, frankly, I could have listened to them continue all night. Such moments can become boring VERY fast. With Griffin you're hanging on every word. She is an expert at her craft and we are clearly watching a master at work (and she is one of the rare artists who can make the "do I stay or go?" entrance of Jane the kind that all actors should seek to emulate).

Ashley Griffin and Ryan McCurdy in Étude by Ashley Griffin. Photo by Micah Joel Photography

Ashley Griffin (Soul 1) and Ryan McCurdy (Soul 2). Photo by Micah Joel Photography.

McCurdy and Griffin are wonderful together - their connection is fantastic, and it's exhilarating to see it play out in so many different relationships. You BUY them as brother and sister (the way Charlie lights up when her brother stops brooding long enough to show her a second of affection as he kisses the top of her head!), long time spouses, and everything in-between. There is a LOVE between them...complex, raw and true that is always present, and a clear, deep trust between the actors, even when trust between the characters has vanished. It was beautiful to watch and I would love to see them in more things together. The chemistry between them is spot on, and so "in the moment". The demands of the multiple, incredibly divergent roles each performer must play in this show are a damn near impossible feat and it's extraordinary that the creative team found two actors who were up to the challenge. Most actors would be steamrolled by this play. Griffin and McCurdy soar.

One of my favorite elements of the piece is the original music/sound design by Marshall McDaniel, with associate sound design by Dani Hughes. McDaniel weaves the "étude" idea into the show in stunning ways - using variations on an actual (original) étude adapted to different styles and locals to signal the time and place of each scene. The étude itself is gorgeous, and its variations are smart, moving, and just plain fun. What an absolutely genius idea for this show, executed to perfection. The rest of the sound design is also strong and beautifully effective, perhaps most so in the design behind the off stage character "Pa" (Tom and Charlie's abusive, alcoholic father) voiced terrifically by Malcolm Stephenson, and mixed with additional sound elements. It adds much to the scene as a whole. (Full disclaimer - I hope I am crediting everything appropriately. In one part of the program McDaniel is credited as "Sound Designer", in another only as "Composer, Music Director" (whereas Dani Hughes is singularly credited as "Associate Sound Designer.") In either case, McDaniel is responsible for the fantastic music.)

I can't imagine a dialect coach having a greater challenge than this play - and Abby Sheridan deserves serious accolades for her work. By my counts the actors performed seven dramatically different accents in this piece. The fact that I can't be 100% sure what McCurdy and Griffin's natural accents are is a testament to the work of Sheridan and the performers. The accents don't advertise themselves, they simply add to the new world we're entering with each scene.

Ashley Griffin and Ryan McCurdy in Étude by Ashley Griffin. Photo by Micah Joel Photography

Ashley Griffin (Soul 1) and Ryan McCurdy (Soul 2). Photo by Micah Joel Photography.

And now, the drawbacks... and there are drawbacks. 

The direction is...serviceable. Director Jennie Hughes has, thank goodness, essentially let the actors do their thing without getting in the way of their work or the writing. But the "concept" for the show feels half baked. There are cores of good ideas, but they're not thought through. 

The costume design by Paola Castañeda is uneven. The core idea is smart - having a base costume that has a single(ish) item added to indicate each new character, and keeping a core color for each Soul throughout their incarnations. But whereas adult Charley's coat, Jane's simple dress, Lydia and Cai's school uniforms and Patrick's horse tee feel pitch perfect, other pieces like child Charlie's dress, and the oddly half Grecian, half beauty pageant Soul costumes feel like they were grabbed out of a Ross or someone's dress up box. Some things are also tracked poorly - Patrick using a sweater that will later be the defining costume piece for Luan feels like lack of care and thought. When the text is this nuanced and well crafted it makes anything that's not functioning at the same level stand out like a sore thumb. When objects finding their way from one incarnation to another is an active, framed part of the story, it makes moments like Luan's sweater feel, frankly, incompetent. 

The principle extent of the "set" is some fabric on the back wall that is wildly confusing in its intention and terribly distracting. It looks like some sort of "under the sea"/prom set dressing (which makes no sense) the only purpose of which seems to be to keep us from being 100% in a black box. Honestly, owning the black box aesthetic would have been preferable - and would have allowed us to focus on the actors in a sort of liminal space. This isn't a matter of finances (the use of simple black blocks works wonders) but rather like a faulty, slipshod concept. I did appreciate the incorporation of projections, which helped to immediately orient us to each new time and place, as well as giving us some subtle closure as to how each incarnation ended. 

Ashley Griffin and Ryan McCurdy in Étude by Ashley Griffin. Photo by Micah Joel Photography

Ashley Griffin (Soul 1) and Ryan McCurdy (Soul 2). Photo by Micah Joel Photography.

The prop design by Ren Orth was generally smart (including the fantastic puppet design). I loved the color coordination in props, and anything that was, intentionally, hand made. (In addition to the props, Orth did the scenic and projection design). The lighting design by Katie Gobreski is fine, I guess. There are some odd cues, and some strange moments when actors simply aren't lit (one very important confession of love comes to mind), though who knows if that's ultimately the responsibility of the lighting or the staging. But, on the whole, the lighting does its job. I know that this is a workshop production, and it's being done in an indie theater space, but there's been brilliant design and directorial work done in equally minimal, limited circumstances. Here it doesn't feel "minimal with a hint of what it could be" but simply thrown together. Transitions are, for the most part, some empty space while actors change, and then watching them (albeit valiantly and in character) move blocks to set up for the next scene. There were much better ways to do this. All the transitions do is draw attention to themselves. There are so many more creative and effective decisions that could have been made with this piece as a whole.

I also feel a responsibility to add - I very much wanted to praise the costume and scenic designers for the things I could. But after looking through the script included in my press kit I discovered that things I found to praise (namely keeping a core color for each Soul throughout their incarnations (blue for Soul 1, red for Soul 2), and the inclusion of projections in the scenic design) - are all in the script. Indeed in the very first stage direction it says:

"Soul 1's clothing is dominated by the color Indigo. Likewise, Soul 2's clothing is dominated by Carmine...These colors will follow them throughout the show. In whatever guise Soul 1 appears there will be indigo somewhere in their apparel, with never a hint of carmine. In whatever guise Soul 2 appears there will be carmine somewhere but never a hint of indigo." 

Projections, likewise, are described in detail as a part of each scene transition. And this gives me serious pause in how I talk about the design (especially since there is so little of it). Is it possible these elements were added to the text after they had been found in the rehearsal room? Perhaps. But, for many reasons, I highly doubt it. It would be remiss of me as a critic if I didn't state that I believe these elements, that are working so well, must be credited to the playwright alone.

Ashley Griffin and Ryan McCurdy in Étude by Ashley Griffin. Photo by Micah Joel Photography

Ashley Griffin (Soul 1) and Ryan McCurdy (Soul 2). Photo by Micah Joel Photography.

I know this is a controversial take, especially since ANY production of a play, especially in NYC, is hard to come by, but I wish I could take Ms. Griffin by the hand and tell her: "Don't let your work be performed in productions that aren't up to your material." I know, what's the alternative? Walk up to the Roundabout and say "Do my show?" But it's heartbreaking to see genius work stuffed into amateur hour. Again - this is not about budget. I wouldn't have minded this show being done in an empty blackbox, as long as it was done with thought, intelligence and intention (all those things are free). (And, frankly, why HASN'T Roundabout done Griffin's work? Maybe we could collectively get on that?)

But, again hot take, at the end of the day we don't go to the theater to see good direction and design (though, of course, they certainly don't hurt). We go for great stories told in a moving, organic way. And in that regard Étude gets an eleven out of ten. The performances are stellar, and the writing some of the best you'll ever hear in the theater. Go see this show! I just wish we could see it in a production worthy of its writing and performances. 

Laura Sele

Étude is currently playing off-Broadway at The Tank Theatre

Tickets: https://tickets.thetanknyc.org/EventAvailability?EventId=103401&ref=bookNow&scroll=timeAndDates

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