"We Still Don't See a Damn Thing" - ETC Brings Sarah Ruhl's Becky Nurse of Salem to the Empire Black Box

What is witchcraft? What does it mean to cast a spell? Where is the line between grief and a curse?

[Note: I attended a preview showing of the play, and programs were not available at this performance. If I'm able to attend a performance later this week, I'll update the post with additional information.]

Art is resistance, and we could use a little bit more of both right about now. As we navigate through these times of shock and awe politics, unprecedented attacks on individual safety and privacy, and the supreme ineptitude of our governmental leaders, we need to be reminded that unchecked power leads always to disaster. And more often than not, that disaster is visited on the most vulnerable among us.

The Empire Theatre Company continues its 2024-25 season with Sarah Ruhl's Becky Nurse of Salem, a play that is just as funny and moving as Ruhl's other signature works like Eurydice and In the Other Room (The Vibrator Play). Ruhl is a master of blending absurdity and dark humor with genuine human emotion, and that talent is on display just as sharply in this work.

Becky Nurse is a descendant of Rebecca Nurse, one of the women hanged during the Salem Witch Trials. She's a tour guide at the Salem Witchcraft Museum who just can't seem to stick to the script, and she spends her lunches at the bar with the boy she loved in high school, Bob, who ditched her at their high school social for a dance with Sharon, to whom he is still currently married.

After getting fired from her job, Becky decides to set her non-belief aside and seek out the assistance of a local witch, recommended to her by the gloomy, emo teenager who beat her to an overnight shift at the local Marriott. She's unlucky in love, in work, and she's not sure she's being a very good parental figure to her granddaughter Gail, who she has been raising since her own daughter Amy died.

Through her interactions with this clairvoyant who is equal parts "Easy, Breezy, Beautiful, Cover Girl" and actual savant, Becky sees her life slowly unravel. And in this unraveling, we are treated to nightmare visions of what happens to us when we become trapped in the lives we settle for.

There are big messages in this show, and it won't be hard to grasp where Ruhl's political sympathies lie: audio from Trump rallies of the crowd gleefully chanting "Lock her up!" is juxtaposed with angry pilgrims accusing the first Rebecca Nurse of debauchery with the devil chanting the same line. Rebecca being held down and having her genitals examined is terrifyingly relevant now as some state legislatures consider bills allowing adults to make examinations of minors' genitals without parental consent, all in the name of persecuting trans people.

And that's a big part of what this story is about. MAGAts should feel at the very least uneasy when viewing this show, if not downright called out, shamed, and ideologically skewered. But the fact that there will undoubtedly be some of these MAGAts who attend the show and remain blissfully ignorant of the show's themes and commentary, and the fact that those things are pointed squarely at them...well, that's kind of the point.

This show grapples with big issues like patriarchy and the opioid crisis, and how ordinary people are ground under the heels of both, talked about like social issues rather than as real human beings who are experiencing these things. It's a lot to unpack, and Ruhl doesn't shy away from showing how all of these things can become too much to bear as Becky starts to lose herself in a fever dream fantasy of the past as she sits stewing in a jail cell like her ancestor before her. It's hard to choose between wanting Becky to finally find her voice and wanting her to give in to the devilish voices that torment her, dancing naked with her demons like Anya Taylor Joy at the end of Robert Eggers' The Witch - a classic of the unofficial subgenre of horror that I like to think of as "Good For Her!" cinema.

As much as I adore Sarah Ruhl (I would love to direct a performance of her play The Clean House - it's marvelous!), the script is a little bit uneven - the linear first act contrasts with the disjointed, fantasy-driven second act in a way that isn't entirely unpleasant but makes some of the narrative a bit hard to follow. The exploration of the opioid crisis is astute, though it conveniently sidesteps the fact that when the social ill is black and brown people and heroin it's a moral failing, but when it's white people and opioids it's upgraded to a crisis, but to be honest that's not Ruhl's story to tell. She's crafted a moving if somewhat inconsistent narrative, and the actors do a great job with the material, bringing their wacky and likeable characters to life.

The show is on this week at the Empire Theater, 7:30 pm Wednesday March 26 through Saturday March 29, with a 2 pm matinee on Sunday March 30. I definitely recommend checking it out, especially if you are a fan of Ruhl's other works. And if you watch the show and it makes you feel uncomfortable...maybe just sit with that and try to figure out what that says about you.