We review ‘They Promised Her the Moon’ at TheatreWorks.
Play about female aviator Jerrie Cobb is compelling
When Jerrie Cobb describes her destiny of a life in the sky, she speaks longingly of breathing the same air that the angels breathe. She wasn’t lost in those billowy and moist clouds, mind you — she just had no desire to be found. TheatreWorks Silicon Valley’s stellar production of “They Promised Her the Moon” is a highly stylized piece featuring a terrific script penned by Laurel Ollstein, directed with intricacy and texture by Giovanna Sardelli. The script delves into the compelling legacy of Cobb, a woman who was too driven to be limited by the earth she treads upon. A young girl who had trouble speaking due to being literally tongue-tied, Cobb’s desire to fly was much more than a simple career goal. Hers was a divine, celestial longing that made her one of the youngest and most accomplished aviators in history. Cobb (Sarah Mitchell) receives mixed messages from her parents. Her father Harvey (Dan Hiatt), a former pilot, encourages his daughter to seek the life she desires, despite the fact that her mother (Luisa Sermol) is a traditionalist, encouraging her to focus on making a happy home for her future husband. Housewife was never going to be the career choice Cobb would accept for herself. But she didn’t have to focus on being the ultimate pioneer, because that was handled by Jackie Cochran (Stacy Ross), a racing pilot savant who broke the sound barrier in 1953. While people like Cochran and World War II veteran Jack Ford (Craig Marker), who owned a worldwide aircraft ferrying service, provide opportunities for Cobb, her dream of passing the sky and landing on the moon seemed ready to grasp, or so she thought. She was chosen for Mercury 13, a group of women who went through the same physiological testing as male astronauts. When placed in an isolation tank by Dr. Randy Lovelace (Anthony Fusco) to prep for space travel, indelible moments flash before her eyes. As she spends hour after hour in the tank, we learn that some of the people who should have been her biggest allies ultimately rip the moon from her fingertips. The strength of the play rests in Mitchell’s ability to convincingly play everything from a little girl of 7 to a woman of 50. She delivers mightily, portraying a woman whose ambitions chafe at the expectations placed on women of that era (i.e., how will she manage a family if she’s galavanting in the clouds?). In a humiliating moment, Cobb is forced to see news of the first woman in space, Russian Valentina Tereshkova, during the space race of the 1960s. Tereshkova was uniquely qualified if one considers skydiving and textile factory work a qualification. The rest of the cast is strong, with four playing multiple characters. Ross is stellar as Cochran, portraying an inspiring and infuriating figure, one who refuses to live in a box that society tries to give her. Fusco and Hiatt are sharp, in one moment playing characters who frustratingly analyze Cobb’s abilities based on her looks. And Sermol effectively plays a woman who is understandably guarded about her daughter’s ambitions, a woman who has a Bible verse ready for every occasion. Finally, Marker’s characters carry a rich swagger, reminding us that the ceiling Cochran and Cobb bump up against seems to be made of cement more than glass. All these proceedings are strongly assisted by a fantastic soundscape from designer Jane Shaw, filling the space with zipping planes and static headset communication. Christopher Fitzer’s multilayered set offers some surprising touches. The title can make one feel a bit melancholy. Cobb proved time and time again she was more than qualified to have been the first American woman in space, two decades before Sally Ride flew on the space shuttle Challenger in 1983. And while “they” might not have kept their promise to Cobb, she nonetheless blazed an amazing path in the sky for so many others.