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| Tanyamaria. Background - Elizabeth Kenny, Marisela Grajeda Gonzalez, C. Bain. Photo credit: Jody Christopherson
A fresh take on the Old Testament’s tale of King David and
Bathsheba, April Ranger’s play, in its world premiere at The Tank, uses
vulgarity and contemporary touchstones to create an occasionally provocative
discussion on sex and power politics.
The play updates the traditional story of how King David, who
already had several wives, spies Bathesheba bathing as he walks along his
palace roof and decides he must bed her. The married beauty reluctantly engages
in a tryst, and David purposely sends her soldier husband to the frontlines
where he perishes. In the biblical version, David eventually shows remorse for
his deeds, and accepts his punishment. The story represents God’s forgiveness
and the possibility for redemption.
In Ranger’s version, no redemption is possible. David embraces
his lascivious ways until the end of his life and no character ever moves
forward. Bathesheba is never more than a pawn trapped in a culture where power,
privilege and masculinity rule. Despite giving her story centerstage as actors
quote from the imaginary “Bathsheba’s Psalms” and “The Book of Beauty,” Ranger’s
take only reinforces the reality of life’s unfairness for women, offering little
new perspective. Still, she allows us to see the familiar trope in all its
ugliness. When messengers come to bring Bathsheba to King David, one states:
“Come to the palace so the king can hold your breasts and ass and smell you and
fuck you.” The strong language jostles the audience, plunging them into Bathesheba’s
hardship: a moral dilemma with no real choice, but acquiescence. The harshness
would work better if the play employed less cursing though. The show uses salty
language so consistently that it eventually becomes ineffectual.
Bathesheba faces her situation with grace and humor—elaborately
running away although she knows there is no escape. Despite her lack of
options, she still must endure the judgment of society. When Bathesheba visits
a pharmacy to obtain the morning-after pill after the king impregnates her, the
clerk mocks her, saying, “We’re a Christian nation now. No more murdered babies
on our hands.”
The hypocrisy exposed by the situation is unfortunately not
unfamiliar and while Ranger updates the story with pop-culture nods to movies such
as "Top Gun" and video games, she never moves the topic beyond simply
acknowledging that time and modernity have not remedied the inequity of power.
Bathesheba, played by Tanyamari, embraces a graceful outlook on what
life offers her—something the actress, who seemingly glows from within, conveys.
Instead, Bathesheba finds beauty in the sunrise. Production designer Itohan
Edoloyi casts lovely lighting across the sparse stage during these moments,
allowing the audience to see the potential of the brand new day even as
Bathesheba’s reality closes around her. The future mother of King Solomon has
an overt sexuality that mingles with her dignity. She is sexy and she knows it,
but that trait doesn’t define her as a woman, even if it’s how society labels
her.
Christina Roussos’ direction introduces whimsy into the story,
with missives dropping from the ceiling and a child’s playroom box of costumes
on stage. Actors use the accessories to suggest characters, grabbing the crown
to play David and a vest to become Uriah, Bathesheba’s husband. Rousso uses just
four actors, a Greek chorus of sorts, that play all of the secondary
characters, mixing and matching personas and genders. Some do better than
others. While Marisela Grajeda Gonzalez flubbed too many words, C Bain
consistently recites lines with fluidity and emotion.
“Bathesheba” ends April 21. The Tank is at 312 W. 36th
St.
(Press ticket, third row).
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