Women on the Verge of a FOMO Breakdown

On June 10, 1963, President John F. Kennedy signed the Equal Pay Act of 1963 into law (which, as part of his New Frontier program, amended 1938's Fair Labor Standards Act). On January 29, 2009, the first bill President Barack Obama signed into law was the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act of 2009. The new law (which amended the Civil Rights Act of 1964) redefined the previous 180-day statute of limitations for filing an equal-pay lawsuit charging wage discrimination by resetting the clock to include each new paycheck that reflected the discriminatory action in question.

This month, a unanimous panel of 11 judges from the Ninth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeal ruled that employers must pay women the same as men for the same work -- and cannot base their job offers on differences in their salaries at previous jobs. In his opinion, the late Judge Stephen Reinhardt stressed that "Although the (Equal Pay) Act has prohibited sex-based wage discrimination for more than 50 years, the financial exploitation of working women embodied by the gender pay gap continues to be an embarrassing reality of our economy."

While this is great news for working women, the vast population of housewives who, for one reason or another, must rely on their spouse's income often find themselves trapped in a cycle of dependency with no conceivable path to freedom and fulfillment. Some are victims of domestic violence. Others have watched their children grow up, leave home, and are struggling to cope with "empty nest syndrome."

While some feel overwhelmed by circumstances (as if trapped in a "fight or flight" situation), others feel as if they are experiencing a slow and stifling death of their soul as a result of a mind-numbing routine, a crushing sense of boredom, and a painful lack of options. Many years ago, when I asked my parents why they refused to move to Florida (where so many of their friends had retired), I got two distinctly surprising answers.

• My father stated that one reason he hated Florida was the endless stream of "organ recitals" from senior citizens who felt compelled to "share" all of their ailments.
• My mother told me that "Once you've listened to someone for 25 years, you've pretty much heard all they have to say."

Two recent performances captured the frustrated feelings of hopelessness and helplessness shared by depressed housewives whose husbands have started to take them for granted or who have been mourning the loss of joy and vitality they felt earlier in their lives.

• One takes place in the American Midwest in 1965 (a time when the nuclear family was still relatively stable); the other takes place place 20 years later in Liverpool.
• One focuses on a woman whose children still live at home; the other woman's children have long since left the nest.
• Both women's opportunities are severely limited by their finances.
• Both are terrified to leave the safety and security of their marriages.

When an opportunity is suddenly thrust into their hands to take a break from a lifestyle that no longer inspires or excites them, only one wife has the courage to defect from her marriage. As I watched both performances, I was struck by how radically our ability to consider new opportunities has changed since the Internet became a powerful force in our lives. If knowledge is truly power, these two women suffered as much from their social isolation as they did from the paucity of information to which they had access.

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In 1962, when A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum was trying out at the National Theatre in Washington, D.C., things were not going well. Although the show was being directed by the legendary George Abbott, had music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, and a cast that boasted first-hand experience with the bawdy comedic style of vaudeville and burlesque, the opening ballad ("Love Is In The Air") was not landing with the audience.

When producer Harold Prince brought in director/choreographer Jerome Robbins as a show doctor, Robbins quickly diagnosed the problem: The audience needed to be told what kind of evening they could expect. Sondheim composed his now-famous 10-minute-long opening number ("Comedy Tonight") and the show's fortunes immediately turned around. When Forum opened in New York on May 8 it became a smash hit which ran for a total of 964 performances. Since then, creative teams for many musicals have taken care to lay out their show's premise clearly enough to win over the audience in the first scene.

• In September 1964, when Fiddler on the Roof had its Broadway premiere, Robbins staged the seven-minute long opening number ("Tradition") in such a way that the audience understood the demographics and needs of Anatevka's residents.
• In 1987, when Into the Woods bowed on Broadway, its 15-minute long prologue (magnificently crafted by Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine) reacquainted audiences with some of their favorite fairy tales and put them in a very good mood.
• When Ragtime opened on Broadway in 1998, its 9-1/2 minute long Prologue introduced the audience to the three blocs of people (upper class whites, middle class African Americans, and lower class immigrants) whose stories would unfold onstage.

The above video clips perfectly demonstrate how a show with a large cast and complex plot can deliver a wealth of exposition in one tightly constructed opening number. But what happens when a musical is not about spectacle, but tells the tale of a woman whose brief encounter with a man changed her life? What if the cast is small, key moments are intimate and introspective, and characters reveal their most closely-held feelings to the audience through song?

Rob Richardson (Robert) and Joan Hess (Francesca) in a scene
from The Bridges of Madison County (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

If you're a composer/lyricist like Jason Robert Brown, you begin the evening with a melancholic solo for cello as a woman looks back on her choices in life and the miracle that touched her heart. As her memories become more complicated, you let the orchestration swell until she is riding a wave of emotion.




TheatreWorks Silicon Valley is currently presenting the regional premiere of The Bridges of Madison County, a musical adaptation of Robert James Waller's 1992 novel that (following three years on The New York Times Best Seller list) became a popular film starring Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep in 1995. With music and lyrics by Brown and a book by Marsha Norman, the musical had its world premiere at the Williamstown Theatre Festival in August 2013 prior to its Broadway premiere on February 20, 2014 with a cast headed by Kelli O'Hara, Stephen Pasquale, and Hunter Foster. If it only lasted for a disappointing 137 performances, my guess is that unlike blockbuster musicals which become hot tickets at the box office, The Bridges of Madison County is very much an acquired taste.

Set in 1965 in Winterset, Iowa and Naples, Italy in the past, The Bridges of Madison County chronicles an unexpected four-day romance between an Italian-American housewife and an itinerant photographer for National Geographic Magazine that occurs while Francesca's husband, Bud (Timothy Gulan), and teenage children, Michael (Matt Herrero) and Carolyn (Jessie Hoffman), have gone off to the state fair. While they are away, Carolyn's steer wins first prize, Michael gets to smoke some weed with a stable boy (Sean Fenton), and Bud becomes increasingly concerned about why his wife is acting so strangely whenever he calls home.

Rob Richardson (Robert) and Joan Hess (Francesca) in a scene
from The Bridges of Madison County (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

The plot's dramatic tension revolves around the encounter between Francesca (Joan Hess) -- who left war-torn Naples to marry an American soldier and build a home with him far away on the safe soil of the United States -- and Robert Kinkaid (Rob Richardson). When Kincaid comes knocking on Francesca's door, asking for directions to one of the area's most photogenic covered bridges, the love-starved and homesick housewife suddenly realizes what she's been missing by spending the past 20 years in relative isolation on a farm. With some help from a bottle of brandy she's been saving for a special occasion, Francesca takes advantage of her family's absence to share some food, wine, and good loving with the sensitive and sensuous man who recently photographed her hometown in Italy.

Rob Richardson (Robert) and Joan Hess (Francesca) in a scene
from The Bridges of Madison County (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

Meanwhile, Francesca's neighbors on a nearby farm, Charlie (Martin Rojas Dietrich) and Marge (Maureen McVerry), take turns watching Bud's house through a pair of binoculars as they speculate about why the photographer's pickup truck has been parked there overnight.

Martin Rojas Dietrich (Charlie) and Maureen McVerry (Marge) in a
scene from The Bridges of Madison County (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

Like the show's director, I had neither seen the movie nor read the novel prior to attending a performance of the musical. Although The Bridges of Madison County may not be quite the crowd pleaser that many other shows become, there is no doubt in my mind about its musical strengths and dramatic appeal. As Robert Kelley writes in his Director's Note:

"In a glorious production on Broadway, The Bridges of Madison County overwhelmed me. Driven by a soaring, wistful score, it summoned a place, a past, a way of life. It captured the irresistible passion and possibility of two people discovering each other and themselves in one unexpected, unforgettable moment in time. Its scale was small, its emotions large, and its resonance larger still. It was romantic, as promised, but it was more. Here was a play about love itself -- the thrilling intensity of love newfound, and the lasting endurance of love long treasured, counterpointed in an achingly beautiful story of ordinary people made extraordinary by their experience of each other. I walked out of the theatre deeply moved by the thought that 'love is always better.'"

Rob Richardson (Robert) and Joan Hess (Francesca) in a scene
from The Bridges of Madison County (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

Despite the temptation to run away with Robert, at the last minute Francesca gets cold feet and remains on the farm -- a decision similar to the one made by Lizzie Curry in 110 in the Shade, who turns down an offer from the roaming Bill Starbuck with the words "I've got to be Lizzie. Melisande's a name for one night, but Lizzie can do me my whole life long." Listening to Brown's score, one is struck by its near-operatic passion and the lack of "buttons" at the end of many musical numbers. In some ways, the show has been crafted as a cross between an intimate, romantic musical and a chamber opera.






Directed with great tenderness by Kelley, the TheatreWorks Silicon Valley production was lit by Pamila Z. Gray, with excellent sound design by Jeff Mockus. Fumiko Bielefeldt's costumes and Wilson Chin's scenic design were surprisingly effective. Sean Fenton (Young Paolo/Stable Boy), Christine Capsuto (Chiara), and Courtney Stokes (Marian/State Fair Singer) had some nice moments in supporting roles.

The craft that has gone into shaping The Bridges of Madison County shows that this project was very much a labor of love. With musical director William Liberatore leading a 10-piece ensemble, a radiant Joan Hess and charismatic Rob Richardson delivered beautifully layered performances as the two romantic leads, receiving tender and comic support from Martin Rojas Dietrich and Maureen McVerry.

This is not a perfect show, nor should it be approached as one (considering how much of its story deals with the emotional frailty of two lonely people who, over the course of a long and quietly momentous weekend get a taste of the physical, intellectual, and psychological fulfillment that's been missing from their lives). But I found the experience (most especially Brown's score) immensely satisfying.


Performances of The Bridges of Madison County continue through April 29 at the Mountain View Center for the Performing Arts (click here for tickets).

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Up in Walnut Creek, Center Rep is reviving Willy Russell's staged monologue, Shirley Valentine, in the tried and true hands of actress Kerri Shawn and director George Maguire (who have worked together on this play at least five times during the past 15 years). With costumes designed by Michael A. Berg, lighting by Scott Denison, and scenery by Andrea Bechert, this one-woman show becomes increasingly poignant in direct relation to the audience's age.

Commissioned by the Everyman Theatre, more than 30 years have passed since Shirley Valentine premiered in Liverpool and went on to become a powerful vehicle for Pauline Collins (who also starred in the 1989 film adaptation). The title character is a British housewife whose marriage has become ossified by routine. Her husband is extremely rigid, expecting his dinner to be ready and waiting, hot on the table, as soon as he walks in the door after work. Like many men, he has begun to regard his wife as a housekeeper rather than a partner. Not only is Shirley dying of boredom, her loneliness is so acute that she has taken to addressing the kitchen wall as if it were a person named "Wall" who was actively listening to her.

Kerri Shawn stars in Shirley Valentine (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

Like Francesca, Shirley is painfully aware that she's been withering on the vine for quite some time. As a young girl, she used to be a fairly chipper, adventurous soul; now she's basically slogging through life from day to day. When her grown daughter announces that she is leaving her boyfriend to move back in with her parents, her imperious attitude toward Shirley is the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Although Shirley has previously scoffed at the idea of joining her friend Jane on a two-week vacation to Mykonos, after Jane surprises her with an airline ticket and announces that the entire trip is already paid for, Shirley finally takes the bait and packs her suitcase. Leaving a freezer full of prepared meals for her husband and a note that she has gone, she can barely contain her excitement about the giant step she is taking on her own behalf.

On the flight to Greece, Jane hits it off with a male passenger who is also heading to Mykonos. Insisting that Shirley won't mind, she makes plans to spend the first night (or two) with the handsome stranger, leaving her friend high and dry. Miraculously, the 52-year-old Shirley is relieved to have a chance to relish her newfound solitude, her freedom from menial responsibilities, and an opportunity to sit on the beach at night while listening to the ocean and gazing at the stars. She also meets a younger man who obviously likes older women and admires her stretch marks as signs of having lived.

As her vacation progresses, Shirley delights in swimming naked in the ocean with a man, making love to her new friend, and feeling as if she has come back to life. When she and Jane are at the airport checking in for their flight home, Shirley (realizing that no one is forcing her to return to Liverpool) suddenly bolts for freedom. In the next few days, she manages to get a job at the taverna where she had been staying, watch the man who seduced her set his sights on newly-arrived female tourists, and start to live life on her own terms. Her husband (who still can't understand why she went to Greece) informs his wife that he's flying down to Mykonos to bring her back home but, as the play ends, it's obvious that the newly-rebellious Shirley has other plans.

Kerri Shawn stars in Shirley Valentine (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

Many people wonder how actors keep their performances in a long run fresh and why some people return to certain roles over the course of their careers. In opera, where a singer learns roles that they will repeat in cities around the world over the course of three decades, this is a common phenomenon. While certain roles are guaranteed meal tickets, a handful of them allow an artist to work with different directors, build greater nuance into their characterizations, and continue to learn more about their character's life from their experience performing the role onstage.

During a post-performance talkback with the audience, Shawn (now 66) and Maguire (now 71) discussed the mechanics as well as the rewards of revisiting a role over the course of several decades. Both have faced medical issues in recent years (Shawn is a breast cancer survivor) and become more acutely aware of the gift of life. They've also come to understand how, as part of their own aging process, they've developed different perspectives on the play and the character of Shirley Valentine.

Poster art for Shirley Valentine starring Kerri Shawn

In light of the growing strength of the women's movement and such developments as the #MeToo movement, Willy Russell's script often takes on a darker set of truths than it might have revealed in 1986. Although his play requires a huge amount of memorization for the actress portraying Shirley Valentine, it also enables gifted artists like Kerri Shawn to dig deeper and find more layers of humor, anger, and poignancy to add to their portrayal.

Performances of Shirley Valentine continue through April 29 at the Lesher Center for the Arts in Walnut Creek (click here for tickets).