This is the part where I usually give you a general outline of the plot of the play, but in this case I will not tell you anything about what happens, except for two things. 1. There is discussion of suicide, so if that's a sensitive topic for you, please take care. 2. There is audience participation, especially in the front row but really no one is safe. But as someone who is very uncomfortable with audience participation, I found the audience participation in this show to be of the non-threatening kind, the kind that draws everyone in and reminds us that we're all participants in this storytelling form we call theater. In that way it reminds me of the beautiful solo play Every Brilliant Thing, which also not just features but relies on audience participation. This play does not work without everyone giving it their full attention and energy, some more than others, but no one feels singled out, just participatory and communal in the best way.
The two performers I had the privilege of seeing were Tyler Michaels King, actor/director/improvisor/Artistic Director of Trademark Theater, and Lauren Anderson, the longest reigning cast member of The Brave New Workshop. Each brought their unique talents to the piece - Tyler his physicality and ability to connect, Lauren her improv skills and conviviality - and made their own unique choices, where choices were allowed. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I would see every single performance if I had the time, and I envy Artistic Director Laura Tahja Johnson, who introduces the show and has the pleasure of watching each and every actor that she brilliantly cast in the show. They perform on a completely bare stage, with an armchair on an area rug on one side, a table with a few props on the other. The house lights are up the entire play, except for a few subtle lighting changes in specific moments, like the more serious monologues (lighting design by Shannon Elliott).
In addition to the discussion of suicide, the play also delves into ideas of freedom, conformity, authoritarianism, and accountability, in ways that feel like it was written for this time, this place. All of this in a silly little 70-ish minute play about rabbits, written 15 years ago halfway across the world. A brilliant thing indeed.
I've never felt the presence of the playwright in the room so clearly as in this show. Nassim writes as if he's speaking directly to us, the audience, and the actor, his medium to get to us. I could picture him, secluded in Iran, living under an authoritarian government with few freedoms, writing these words for some future audience - us, here, in Anoka MN - not knowing us, but being connected to us across time and distance through art. The best thing about theater is its ability to connect people - friends, neighbors, or strangers from different cultures - and create a shared experience that is unique to that time, space, and community, and can never be repeated. And in this case, never forgotten.
Friends, take a chance on something new, different, adventurous, scary even, and immerse yourself in the world of White Rabbit Red Rabbit. I don't know what you will see, it will be different from what I saw, but I can guarantee that it will be like nothing else you've seen. And isn't that grand?!
