What’s the real message of Marsha Norman’s ’Night, Mother? That suicide is the only way out? Since I first became aware of this Pulitzer Prize-winning play, I’ve been trying to figure out what purpose it serves. It’s certainly not anti-suicide; nowhere in its 90 minutes is a character given a definitive argument in favor of life, and we’re not even allowed to believe that Jesse, the suicidal character, has lost possession of her senses. The opposite is the case: she seems quietly, sensibly to know precisely why to slaughter herself, and all her mother’s pleadings come across as weak in the face of her logic. Finally, I’m left with the feeling that ’Night, Mother is that rare thing, an actually immoral drama, a play that might tempt a suffering soul to purchase a revolver and turn it on him/herself. I certainly wouldn’t send anyone suffering from outrageous fortune to go see this strange thing. Human life is precious, and miraculous, and fragile. We need good reasons to deny — not entertain — the death instinct.
The irony is, the current Stageworks production is really topnotch from top to bottom — in acting, directing and design. The amazingly versatile Karla Hartley is splendid in the role of the implacable Jesse, and Monica Merryman as her baffled, rattled mother Thelma is just about perfect. Scott Cooper’s set of a modern living room and kitchenette is wonderfully realistic, and director Lisa Powers allows both actresses to explore a sizable emotional range as the clock ticks toward annihilation. Of course, the success of the production just makes the ethical question more urgent: What’s the ultimate meaning of this well-choreographed dance of death? Is there somewhere, anywhere, the suggestion that Jesse is mistaken? Where is it? Why is it so hard to find?
The drama’s plot is simple. A few minutes after we meet the two characters, Jesse informs her mother that she intends to kill herself. Her reasons are many: she’s divorced, her son’s a thief, she’s epileptic, she doesn’t see the point anymore. Thelma naturally tries to persuade Jesse to stay alive. Jesse won’t listen; for every one of her mother’s arguments she has a riposte, and she threatens to do the deed sooner if Thelma phones anyone who might more capably stop her. With Thelma’s repertoire of affirmations easily exhausted, the two women discuss other things: how Thelma will manage without Jesse, what to say when the police come, what to tell the relatives and so on. Some of what we learn bears on Jesse’s threat — for example, that she still adores her ex-husband — and some of it is fascinating even though it’s irrelevant — for example, that Thelma’s husband married her because she was an uncultured country girl, then held that fact against her for the rest of their marriage. And meanwhile the time for the dreadful deed is fast approaching.
Hartley as Jesse is remarkable. Even-tempered at most moments, near tears at a few, she seems certain of her decision and even somewhat glad of it. Merryman as Thelma is also outstanding. It’s painful to watch her try everything to keep Jesse alive, from threats and demands to plaintive requests. At her most poignant, she seems a kind of wounded animal, facing a test that she can’t pass. So she never thinks to persuade Jesse of alternatives to suicide, of the many people who need her help even if she’s lost interest in her own case, of the unpredictability of a future which might even include her happiness. The suspense of the play is, therefore, twofold: Will Jesse actually kill herself? Or will Thelma somehow find the argument that stops her?
I remember talking with a different producer of ’Night, Mother almost 30 years ago. He told me that the play had the inexorability of a Greek tragedy. Thirty years later, I have to disagree: it’s not destiny that moves Jesse, it’s selfishness and a false sense that she can predict the future. At the very least, her mother and son need her. And the universe may have some surprises in store.
Jesse needs a feeling therapist. And Thelma needs some I.Q. points.
And all of us could use a few more good reasons to live.
This article appears in Feb 2-8, 2012.