Theatre Review: Mothers Lifts The Veil On Parenting
Parenthood is not easy because, personally, I believe a child makes an adult grow. For all that we tell ourselves we raise and guide our kids, which we do, they also raise us into newer and, hopefully, enlightened versions of ourselves. Yet, humanity can be competitive, and being the best mom to a star-child feels like a dream. I can only imagine what Timothee Chalamet’s mom feels amongst the ladies who lunch. It is in this notion that Anna Moench’s Mothers finds its humor and horror; there is the idea and image of a mom and then there is an actual parent.
At first, Mothers is hilarious. With a boldly colored, but minimalist set and teddy bears in the roles of kids, director Robert Ross Parker is able to highlight the big personalities now calling themselves “Mothers.” Maechi Aharanwa plays Ariana: a mama with a crisp confidence/ arrogance that makes her latch onto “new waves” like, the anti-vax movement. Jasmine Batchelor plays Vick a high-powered, working mom that refuses to have women like, Ariana, guilt her for wanting another identity beyond parenthood. Then, there is Satomi Blair’s Meg; whose own confusion as to where she fits into the world of “Mommies” leaves her somewhere in-between both. The dynamic and conversations between these three is perfect in encompassing how women turn, unite, and get lost in the crux of what has, historically, been latched onto them as their most important, if not only, existential purpose: to raise kids.
As the three bicker, bite, and laugh over what it really means to be a mom, characters like Max Gordon Moore’s awkwardly funny Ty and the quietly calculating nanny, Tina Chilip as Gladys, only build that helping a child define his or her life is incredibly hard when you don’t expand how you define your own. Of course, they do this through Moench’s quick wit and nuanced wisdom, but soon the play turns into a Apocalyptic analysis on what “mothers” will do to survive and thrive.
Yes, we go from women gathering to vent and judge each other’s parenting methods into what feels like Armageddon, and the transition is, certainly, surprising. One minute, these moms are taking a billion pictures of their kids though their cellphones and the next they are going “Lord of The Flies” on each other. At 1 hour and 40 minutes, with no intermission, the transition weirdly flow because it subtly divides the audience. Some will adore it and find it boldly tackles how motherhood has become more of an ad campaign rather than a virtuous journey. Suddenly, these women lose their cool and “high morals” in the face of impending doom, of which the Apocalypse feels like a symbol for how we are raising children to look good and be smart for a world that might not have a future. (I hear ya, Greta Thunberg!) Yet, seeing a bunch of women passive aggressively chip at each other’s parental resolve through discourse and child-rearing activities felt like enough.
Is tossing a group of moms into the end of the world a plot twist? You bet it is, and I can, honestly, say I would have never thought or done it. Hence, Mothers goes from comedy to a cult-liking like putting the Housewives in Hell. In perspective, it sounds hilarious and like must-see tv, but something about their natural habitats of wealth amplifies their poorer souls. Hence, some viewers would have rather stayed in the “Mommy And Me” portion of the play because it felt more tangible while others embraced THE END! To Buy Tickets to Mothers, playing at Duke on 42nd Street Theater 229 W. 42nd St., until October 2.
