Western Washington University Theatre
As a lifelong fan of what Duchess of Malfi editor Leah S. Marcus calls the “Jacobean bizarre,” I had wanted to direct this play for a very long time. That desire, however, started to feel like a sharp, immediate need when the United States Supreme Court functionally overturned Roe vs. Wade, removing federal protections for abortion rights. As a woman, a mother, a professor, and a person existing in this country, I live with a constant low-pitched anxiety over my own bodily autonomy, and a much higher-pitched anxiety about the rights my daughter may see stripped from her.
This play both highlights these anxieties and creates space for us as a team, department, university, and (in my wildest imaginings) a nation to voice them in community. The Duchess of Malfi stages—in its particular extreme and absurdist fashion—the process and fallout of restricting women’s autonomy. We’ve imagined this production as a series of concentric nightmares—an ever-tightening claustrophobic space that closes around the Duchess as her brothers drive themselves to madness and murder in their control of her. For me, the heartbreak of the play lies not only in seeing the Duchess robbed of family, love, joy, and freedom, but also in the loss of humanity suffered by nearly every character wrapped up in her downfall.
Although the play’s outlook is bleak, and its continued relevancy more than 400 years after its composition is anything but hopeful, what also rose to the surface for me throughout the production process was Webster’s investment in small, personal moments of joy, celebration, and humor. They are a reminder to hold onto what we love and to fight like hell for what we believe in, even in the face of disaster. I may not be encouraged by Duchess, but I’m inspired.
This play both highlights these anxieties and creates space for us as a team, department, university, and (in my wildest imaginings) a nation to voice them in community. The Duchess of Malfi stages—in its particular extreme and absurdist fashion—the process and fallout of restricting women’s autonomy. We’ve imagined this production as a series of concentric nightmares—an ever-tightening claustrophobic space that closes around the Duchess as her brothers drive themselves to madness and murder in their control of her. For me, the heartbreak of the play lies not only in seeing the Duchess robbed of family, love, joy, and freedom, but also in the loss of humanity suffered by nearly every character wrapped up in her downfall.
Although the play’s outlook is bleak, and its continued relevancy more than 400 years after its composition is anything but hopeful, what also rose to the surface for me throughout the production process was Webster’s investment in small, personal moments of joy, celebration, and humor. They are a reminder to hold onto what we love and to fight like hell for what we believe in, even in the face of disaster. I may not be encouraged by Duchess, but I’m inspired.
