Mary Testa and the ensemble in Queen of the Mist
Queen of the Mist is a new musical by Michael John LaChiusa (Marie Christine, The Wild Party), which
the Transport Group produced at the Judson Gym in the West Village last
month. Starring the fiercely charismatic
Mary Testa, the musical tells the story of Anna “Annie” Edson Taylor (1838 – 1921), the first person to go over Niagara Falls in
a barrel and survive—and on her 63rd birthday (in 1901), at that.
The musical
is significant for placing a middle-aged woman squarely at the center of its
narrative. In fact, only one other
performer has a stable character part—Andrew Samonsky as Annie’s drunken,
rough-hewn, opportunistic manager, Frank Russell. The rest of the cast is a quintet of terrific
actor/singers who cycle through a number of subsidiary roles, all written to
support the journey of the central character.
Testa more
than meets the challenges of a role that requires her to be a stalwart,
pragmatic single woman in an age when women were much more often domesticated
in heterosexual nuclear families. Annie
is a dreamer, a woman who insists, in one of the show’s best songs, “I have
greatness in me.” How often do we see musicals
about older, single women determined to actualize their dreams?
The show’s
structure, as well as its story, makes it unique. This is not a typical “opposites attract,”
heterosexual love story that resolves the relationships and the musical world’s
metaphorical social divisions by the performance’s end. Instead, Queen
of the Mist keeps Annie alone throughout, and her relationship with Russell
one of affection and grudging love, but not romance. This makes Annie a remarkably original
character even by present-day standards, let alone for an actual historical
woman who came of age in the 19th century.
Before her
idea to ride over the falls coalesces, Annie tries and fails to make economic ends
meet through various schemes. Queen of the Mist’s book cleverly introduces
us to her through long monologues of cunning and manipulation meant to distract
her landlords and buy her time to pay her rent.
In one scene after another, she’s evicted from her lodgings.
Annie tells
stories about once having been married, though she never was. She lies about her age, moving herself nicely
(over the course of a scene or a song or two) from 47, through her 50s, to 63,
her actual age when she did what she called her “deed.”
Her sister, Jane, who lived with her husband and children in Auburn, New
York, provides Annie’s gender foil. Ensemble-member
Theresa McCarthy is wonderful as the pinched, submissive woman, who was happy
to be a mother and wife, with no ambitions but to make her home. Annie wanted much more than that. Her outsized expectations chafed at her
brother-in-law, who insisted Annie leave his house on the one occasion Jane
rescued her sister from indigence.
Annie’s single-minded
passion to distinguish herself and to make “the green” (as she calls money)
keeps her from intimacy with her family or her few friends. She carefully planned out her ride down the
falls, ordering a specially constructed, scientifically designed barrel and
attending to the details of the stunt’s public relations as much as to the
rudimentary technology that she hoped would save her life.
Annie Edson and her specially designed barrel
Annie
persuades Russell to be her manager so that he can carry out her plan for how
her stunt will appear to the public.
Russell is an alcoholic accustomed to exploiting his clients, but he’s
fascinated by Annie’s work ethic. His
surprising affection for this unusual woman is quite moving in Samonsky's subtle rendition. He can’t emulate her strict morality; in fact,
he steals her barrel after her successful trip down the falls, and employs an
impersonator to play Annie in a seedy burlesque about her deed.
The raw space
of the Judson Gym was designed for Queen
of the Mist to evoke the banks of the river that runs into the rushing
waters of Niagara Falls. The divided audience
sat on risers facing each other across the narrow playing space, with two
smaller playing spaces at either end.
The intimacy of the stage meant that Testa could easily project Annie’s
majesty into the audience.
Testa
inhabited fully a role that seems to have been written for her. Her carriage perfectly erect, her hands quiet
at her sides, she used her face and her eyes and her large eloquent voice to
command the stage, communicating the power and determination of a woman who had
to live by her wits in an age when women had few opportunities for agency.
Queen of the Mist underlines how unseemly it was for women to
seek public attention at the turn of the 20th century. Nevertheless, Annie did go down in history as
the first person to survive the plunge down Niagara Falls.
But after she
accomplishes her dream, Annie becomes strangely distanced from herself and her
adoring but finally impatient public. Queen of the Mist’s second act quiets
her down a bit and the show loses some of its focus and verve.
A quieter Annie after her "deed" is done
It’s not
quite clear whether Annie is supposed to be disappointed about the reception to
her stunt and how quickly she passes from the public eye, or if something else
has suddenly drawn the wind from her considerable sails. She also begins to lose her eyesight. LaChiusa seems uncertain whether this is meant
to be metaphorical or simply factual.
Finally,
then, despite its considerable charms, Queen
of the Mist seems a bit unsure what it’s about. Is it a Floyd
Collins-style indictment of the press and the way that it did or didn’t make
heroes of people? The press badgers
Annie for years to share the specifics of what she felt in that barrel as she
moved down the river toward the falls.
But Annie believes the fact that she did the deed should have been
enough. In the show’s 11th hour
revelation scene, after much prompting and suspense, Annie finally confesses
what she felt during her ride down the falls. She bares her heart as she describes her
terror and her love for all those she feared she might never see again.
But Queen of the Mist doesn’t explain why
she was reluctant to share these details all along, and what her hesitancy
means for the story’s larger implications.
Does the show mean to suggest that Annie should have been more
emotionally available in her life? That
a kind of emotional hubris was her downfall?
Or does the
show respect Annie for refusing to pander to sensationalism by describing her
emotions and the terrifying sensation of plummeting over the falls, in the
dark, with pounding water pummeling the thin wooden membrane between your body
and your death?
Hard to
say. In a talk-back after the
performance we saw, Testa and director Jack Cummings III said that Annie wanted
to “own” her story, and felt that the fact
of her deed was enough. We weren’t quite sure, however, that the show itself made
that clear.
Nonetheless, Queen of the Mist has wonderful
potential and a terrific cast who spoke eloquently about the project. Here’s hoping Annie Edson Taylor gets another
chance at fame.
The Feminist
Spectator
Queen of the Mist, Judson Gym, December 1, 2011.