Natural Shocks at BeBe Theater

In a play in any other place and time, a storm bearing down may serve as only a literary device or metaphor. In our particular, post-Helene Here and Now, however, the impending tornadoes in Nemesis Theatre Company’s production of Natural Shocks that drive protagonist Angela to her basement seeking refuge feel like story enough. But the gradual and desperate reveals in the production of Lauren Gundersan’s one-woman play build to a level of distress and dread that dwarfs said storm.

Natural Shocks is not an easy play. It isn’t comfortable. But it is gripping, captivating, and crucial. Gunderson’s work is at once a portrait of desperation, a social commentary, and at times a psychological thriller. And it is honestly tough to write about without quickly revealing the things the play works very hard to mete out slowly. So there will be very few plot points in this review — not only because there is less plot than narrative, but also because to do so would spoil the impact of our heroine telling it herself.

Trinity Smith Keel is remarkable in her humorous, anxious, and heart-breaking turn as Angela. From the moment of her entry on the heels of a loud offstage bang, she is visibly distressed but has the capacity to express her state of mind with layers of intent, emotion, and self-deprecation.

“We are all more honest when we’re facing our absolute worst,” she says, and she is eager to tell the stories that have brought her to this place in her life. But Angela also repeatedly reveals that she lies. “Sometimes it makes things easier,” she says.

This misdirection and disorientation are what make the Natural Shocks move swiftly through its intermission-free 75 minutes. Angela expounds on her devotion to statistics (“I can read the signs and tell you what’s coming, but nobody believes me”), her relationship with her mother, and her marriage, and she traverses into several deep tunnels of self-reflection. She talks herself down dead ends, backs up, and starts again, admitting to and correcting her own falsehoods. Even upon the concrete foundation of this basement, there is no firm ground on which to stand. But throughout, her wide-eyed urgency broadcasts a need to be heard.

And that is where the audience comes in. The Bebe Theater is a small room, with only 30 or so chairs set up for this production — more than half of which skirt the floor around Angela’s basement. She is aware of the audience, even if perhaps they are a figment of her imagination. And since there is no one else to hear her, she speaks to them, sometimes prompting them with questions or employing them to assist in her storytelling.

She even interacts with and reacts to sound engineer and Asheville Symphony Orchestra Associate Principal Cellist Franklin Keel, who lays down a moody mournful backing track of electric cello or drops the occasional humorous musical playback from the likes of “The Wizard of Oz” and “2001: A Space Odyssey.”  Without coming across as overly meta, these moves do effectively serve to cool the temperature and provide a few moments of knowing laughter, briefly transforming the cramped confines of the basement to a cozier haven.

Angela’s basement (from director/set designer Melon Wedick and lighting designer Jason Williams) is populated by the kinds of not-quite discarded items that all basements collect, and each of these items will play a part in her story. There are clues everywhere, some of which I caught and some of which I am sure I missed. It pays to listen closely, because even when she is not telling the truth, Anglea is indicating where this whole thing is heading.

As noted at the top of this review, Natural Shocks is not an easy play to digest. The content disclosures included in the playbill, posted on the theater entrance, and delivered with warm caution by Wedick before the performance are no joke. But it is gripping, important, and critical, full of tension, mystery, and weight — and all too true in the most frightening way.

Natural Shocks, a production of Nemesis Theatre Company’s ArchNemesis, runs through April 12 at the BeBe Theater. For tickets and information, visit nemesistheatre.com.

(Photo by Eliza Alden Photography)