Playwright: April De Angelis. At: Oracle Theatre, 3809 Broadway. Phone: 252-220-0269. www.oracletheatre.com; no admission. Runs through: Feb. 11
The title of April De Angelis’ play isn’t a veiled reference to Margaret Thatcher, nor is it the latest Marvel Comics series (although Darcy Elora Hofer’s leather-and-grommet costumes fit right into that genre’s iconography). So we know what our story is not, but that’s of small assistance in understanding an allegory steeped in mosaic narrative, expressionist motifs, elevated emotions and smoldering sexuality.
Our plot—what of it we can recognize—focuses on Mrs. Martha Darby and her daughter, dubbed “Little Cog” (as in “little cog in a vast machine”) at birth by the late ironworks magnate Mr. Abraham Darby. Following his death, his widow refused to relinquish her claim to his empire by selling or re-marrying, but assumed management of the business herself—no easy task at the dawn of the 20th century, when men ruled the world of commerce. She prevails, however, and diligently schools her child in the skills the latter will need to continue the family business. Cog, however, displays a fanciful temperament, making for tensions that eventually force the two women to communicate in hypothetical fables recounted during their lessons in social deportment. Twice, the play appears to be over, but not until a scene portending a future not modeled on hard, cold, rigid metals are the generational conflicts resolved.
So, is this a feminist allegory of the Industrial Revolution, a criticism of Victorian-era capitalism or a diatribe on male cultural supremacy? Are its neo-gothic elements—a murdered corpse discovered by Cog on the hill overlooking the mills, the cast-iron statue of a woman that Martha contemplates as one would an icon—meant to recall Mary Shelley or Jean Genet? What purpose do the flashbacks to Martha’s girlhood and Cog’s (inevitable) confession of paternal incest serve? Lastly, what’s with the armored dresses, even the hoop skirts giving the impression of having been constructed by blacksmiths, rather than tailors?
Comprehension of our enigmatic text being difficult in the 75 minutes before De Angelis’ manifesto—well, runs out of steam, and playgoers may want to shelve their questions and focus instead on the spectacle: Katherine Keberlein and Sarah Goeden navigate their fire-and-steel poetry with athletic stamina and impeccable accents within Michael Mroch’s erector-set environment (its foundry ambience augmented by the Oracle Theatre storefront’s renovations-in-progress). Whatever else Ironmistress may promise, there’s no denying the artistry expended on this ambitious project.