by Jez Butterworth
directed by Amy Rummenie
September 3 – 17, 2016
Open Eye Theatre
On a moonless night in August, a man brings his new girlfriend to the remote family cabin where he has come for the fly fishing since he was a boy. Will she be the perfect catch — or the one that got away? A bewitching story about how even our most intimate moments are shaped by the ghosts of the past, from the author of Jerusalem and Mojo.
Cast
The Man – Andrew Erskine Wheeler
The Woman – Emily Grodzik
The Other Woman – Elizabeth Efteland
Another Woman – Quinn Shadko
Production Team
Director – Amy Rummenie
Set – Steve Kath
Costumes – Sara Wilcox
Lighting – Paola Rodriguez
Sound – Katharine Horowitz
Props – Robert “Bobbie” Smith
Sketch Artist – Paul LaNave
Stage Manager – Kasey Jo Gratz
ASL Interpreters – Rebecca Rick & Logan Yakesh
Audio Describer – Laura Wiebers
Reviews
“The idea of memory is at the heart of Walking Shadow’s The River, a play by Jez Butterworth, directed by Amy Rummenie, and staged by Walking Shadow Theatre Company. It’s an eerie tale and a borderline ghost story that also feels firmly grounded in a familiar reality.
Paneling adorns the stage; a small wooden table sits in the center, a fully stocked kitchen and cooler fill up space, and the reading nook on stage left is cozy as they come. It’s a familiar scene to cabin-loving Minnesotans. The River could almost be an ode to cabin life: there is trout fishing, and nature is talked about as poetry. This gives the entire show a sense of familiarity that makes it all the more profound.
The plot concerns the main character of The Man (Andrew Erskine Wheeler) as he brings his girlfriend The Woman (Emily Grodzik) to his family’s cabin. As the sun sets, there is much that happens in this cabin—things that will happen and have already happened, as time begins to fold into itself. This eeriness might be jarring in the early going, but impeccable acting and strong directing truly make The River feel human even in its strangest moments.
There is a sense of quietness and stillness to every aspect of the show, from the acting to impeccable sound design by Katharine Horowitz. The show excels in its intimacy. Many plays strive for a sense of realism but The River is one of the few that succeeds in feeling, truly, like paging through at an old photo album. And it’s just as bittersweet as old photographs.
Wheeler is superb, a light piercing the foggy night into which the audience is thrust. His quietest moments onstage by himself, as well as his boldest monologues, are equally riveting. Grodzik and her counterpart The Other Woman (Elizabeth Efteland) are perfectly cast. Grodzik’s performance is thoughtful and bubbly, while Efteland’s sarcasm and wit define her work. The two manage to create contrasting characters while never sharing the stage.
The greatest attribute of The River is it’s a somber conjuring to the idea of memory and thoughts of the bygone past. Photographs and faded memories seem to collapse on each other throughout the evening. It’s a show that doesn’t frighten, but evokes the most precious memories of your past, your childhood, of lost loves. And it does so in a winning, haunting fashion.”
– Laura Schmidt, Minnesota Monthly
“The River is one of the better plays about love I’ve seen in a while (I was about to say specifically heterosexual love, but with the focus they have, the translation here is pretty direct across the spectrum of sexuality). And not love as manifested in a relationship with a plot so much as just that big, unwieldy emotion of love itself ‐ the need, the desire, the ache, the way one willingly deludes oneself into thinking you can ever fully escape your romantic past and not have it somehow taint your relationships in the present. This isn’t generic love. It’s quite specific, and those details matter. The surrender involved is both intoxicating and frightening. Can we avoid making the same mistakes over and over? Probably only if we’re willing to identify them and own them.
The River is (thankfully) not about a serial killer. The River is also not a piece of science fiction. It’s a play that, rightly, refuses to explain itself, because it’s about the unexplainable. The human heart is a stubborn and fragile thing. The River, better than any other play I can think of, manages to nail that terrifying but exhilarating feeling of freefall that happens when you abandon yourself to love.
If you stop and think about it, even for a second, you’d go running in the other direction. It’s that point in a relationship where you either sign on for the wild ride, or walk away. Neither choice is ever easy. Neither is The River. But it’s a play that doesn’t let you go.”
– Matthew Everett, Single White Fringe Geek
“If your new boyfriend invites you to his cabin to go fly fishing in a river by the sea, just say no. That’s what I learned from Walking Shadow’s The River. This seemingly happy new relationship takes an unsettling, unexpected, and vaguely creepy turn over the course of 90 minutes. I don’t want to say too much about what happens, because the discovery and the figuring it out is half the fun of this play. Or maybe fun isn’t the right word. But this fascinating exploration of love and relationships, with strong performances by the cast, fluid unhurried direction, and a spot-on detailed set is definitely entertaining.
I spent much of this play trying to figure out what was happening, but in a good way. The kind of figuring out that keeps you completely engrossed and on the edge of your seat to see what happens next. And I’m not going to tell you what that is, but there are conversations about big and small things, and characters who aren’t who we first think they are. Intrigued? You should be!”
– Cherry and Spoon
“Kudos to Walking Shadow for taking on a difficult play like The River. There is too much play-it-safe going around. It’s wonderful to encounter a theater willing to take risks.”
– John Olive, HowWasTheShow
