The Acton Theatre Review: Moonshiner from Adult Film
By Acton
The last time I listened to music on cassette was in college, as Riv (Annalisa Noel) does after her morning rooftop inspection of the annual wildfires that steadily advance toward the building she shares with her roommates (Raina Soman, AJ Molder) and landlord (Megan Metrikin). At the mercy of both impending fires and graduation, there’s comfort in slowing down to take in an album you can’t shuffle or swipe away.
Moonshiner (writer Lillian Morrern, director Danica Selem) conjures up a bewitching, otherworldly atmosphere where three young women inhabit a dream time between graduation and whatever happens next, as the scaffolding of college life falls away and their future is up to them, ready or not. In some aspects, the play recalls Robert Altman’s “3 Women” (1977), another mysterious and dreamlike story set around an enigmatic swimming pool.
Riv is joined on the roof by her preening roommate Joan (Soman), obsessed with an unseen but wealthy and popular friend who has seemingly invited her to an elaborate party that night. Joan’s thirst for approval and the story of the party provide an arc for Moonshiner’s otherwise dreamy cadence.
The third roommate is named Im, a soft-spoken student toting her bag of strange study materials. Played by Molder and costumed by Madeline Rostmeyer and Lillian Mottern, Im is an enigmatic mix of immaturity and calm self-confidence. Fans of “3 Women” may note Im’s resemblance to Sissy Spacek’s character in that film. Fans of the Old Testament may note her name’s resemblance to God’s identity “I am that I am.” Is it Im, reciting from her binder of incantations, who summons the wildfires?
The three are sometimes joined by their implacable landlord (Metrikin), whose attention Riv and Joan seem to compete for but never win. Metrikin has an uncanny ability to command our sharp focus, then yield it or throw it across the stage. Her performance as the unnamed Woman is grounded and specific yet strange and unknowable, her feet firmly planted on planet Mars.
Moonshiner plays in the tension between hard edges and gossamer possibilities, starting with the scenic design (by Selem), which is composed of areas of reflective surfaces suggesting far-off flames or moonlit rooftops (lighting design Shane Hennessy, sound design Liam Bellman-Sharpe). Although the edge of the roof is demarcated by a simple line of paint on the floor, it’s treated by the cast with enough gravity that you might feel a bit of vertigo as they peer over the edge. By contrast, the pool area feels amorphous and expansive, at times a shallow place to dip your feet, and later deep enough to drown Riv.
The tension is seen in the performances too, as the younger women try on different personalities and possible futures. Riv, Joan, and Im’s psychological pliability is demonstrated physically by Noel, Soman, and Molder’s contortions, cartwheels, and lounging poses that would kill lesser actors’ quads and hamstrings. Contrast that with Metrikin’s remote, impersonal landlord, who knows exactly who she is yet explains nothing. Together, the performances and design give Moonshiner a haunting, moody power.
