‘The Revolutionists’ finds humor in political struggles
“The Revolutionists,” a timely play by Lauren Gunderson about four women in the French Revolution, knows that politics is often tiring.
When its protagonist, the feminist playwright Olympe de Gouges, considers penning a “bracing, solemn political exposé” about women’s rights in France, her wise friend suggests instead a musical or romantic comedy. After all, who wants speechifying on a Saturday night?
But the wisdom of “The Revolutionists,” currently staged with spirit at Main Street Theater, lies in a deeper realization: that politics is also vital, that in the right hands it’s neither academic nor abstract. It’s definitely not boring. It’s simply work that begins with an observation about society, then spins into whatever the artist chooses. And here, in this sparkling new work, politics is very, very funny.
The story centers on the creative and political struggles of a real-life playwright. De Gouges (a precise Shannon Emerick) died on the guillotine for her critiques of the patriarchy in Revolution-era France. Her “Declaration of the Rights of Woman and the Female Citizen” began, “Woman is born free and lives equal to man in her rights,” and ended with the invocation, “Woman, wake up … Regardless of what barriers confront you, it is in your power to free yourselves; you have only to want to.”
Her declaration was considered treason, and she was executed just months after Marie Antoinette’s execution, in 1793.
De Gouges is in the throes of writer’s block when Charlotte Corday (Molly Searcy), who assassinated Jacobin leader Jean-Paul Marat, and Antoinette (Bree Welch), barge in. Their big personalities and life-or-death crises give de Gouges much-needed artistic inspiration. For these three women, the personal and political often collide, and de Gouges must make the case that the theatrical — the telling and presenting of one’s story — belongs as well.
It’s in this space — that strange spot between politics and art — where Gunderson’s writing flourishes. She knows it’s tricky to present entertaining, yet socially driven art, but she does so without losing the rhythm and forward momentum of her characters.
Her fourth character, the fictional Marianne Angelle (Callina Situka), offers both personal stakes and intersectional identity politics. She’s a Caribbean woman who asks these feminists, particularly Antoinette, if their belief in equality stretches across the ocean, to her people, who continue to be exploited by white men with big ships and the greed to match.
Andrew Ruthven’s direction allows the actors to savor their comedic lines. Welch, as the highfalutin, cake-munching former queen, gets the most delicious dialogue. Her caricature of privilege and ego is uproarious, and she looks both fabulous and ridiculous in her big hair and dress. She doesn’t quite realize that the three other women have serious business to attend to, like men to assassinate and plays to write. She’s the perfect symbol of Gunderson’s light, yet cutting, way with politics. She makes you laugh while her characters — and all their yearning and heroism — worm their way into your gut.
While comedy plays out on center stage, a guillotine hangs in the shadowy backdrop. Things do not end well for women who have the radical notion that they, too, are human. Their judges and executioners are all men, as are the writers of their history. So these “Revolutionists” know that their power lies in the last words they can say to the people before the blade drops.
These are hilarious and lovable women trapped in a history with a somber final act. Gunderson knows that all they have today are the stories told of them, so she brings them to life with relish.