Rediscovering the Poetic Genius of María Irene Fornés Erin Joy Schmidt (bio) I feel we are constantly threatened by death, every second, every instant, it's there. And every moment something rescues us. Something rescues us from death every moment of our lives. For every moment we live we have to thank something. We have to be grateful to something that fights for us and saves us. —Fefu and Her Friends, p. 52 I first encountered María Irene Fornés's Fefu and Her Friends in 1997, exactly twenty years after its 1977 off-Broadway premiere. At the time I was a college freshman, and, quite frankly, was not quite sure what to make of it. I was utterly intrigued by the irreverence of Fornés's dialogue. "Do you think about genitals all the time?" asks Emma as she is gardening with Fefu. At age 19, I was not yet able to grasp the depth and invention of the human condition that Fornés exposed with her dialogue. My play library and theatrical vocabulary was limited to playwrights of the popular realm. I had not yet dug into genres beyond realism and naturalism. What I wasn't aware of at that time but what is not lost on me now is that a seed of curiosity was planted for Fornés in that first read. On the surface, the play seems like a simple relationship play written in the same vein as other popular 1970s kitchen-sink dramedies. The play centers on Fefu Beckman and seven of her friends who gather at her New England country home to rehearse a program for an educational society fundraiser in the late 1930s. Yet as the dialogue unfolds, it becomes clear how profound and nuanced the plot and these women really are. Weaving together the lives of these housewives and philanthropists, Fornés delves into themes of conformity, patriarchal oppression, and the feminine mystique without compromising the unique yet familiar relationships among the women. Writing about a production of Fefu and Her Friends at the American Conservatory Theatre in April 2022, theatre critic Jim Munson observed: "The other thing that makes this play's reputation is Fornés' writing style, which is grounded in realism, but occasionally includes poetry and other flights of fancy. This is also what makes the work so hard to describe." Although the play was intriguing to this young woman, a deeper understanding would only come with age (fig. 1). After that first encounter, it would take another twenty-five years for me to engage with Fefu and Her Friends. During the next decade, I received my MFA in acting, worked as an AEA actor in regional theatres throughout the East Coast, and taught performance at several colleges. I was introduced to all manner of plays and playwrights with, as would be expected, the most offerings from the theatrical canon of "well-made plays." Fornés's name would come up among the other surrealists, but more as a nod to her oddness than her brilliance. Now as a theatre professor and stage director at Providence College, our theatre department's play-selection committee was searching for plays to produce during our season dedicated to women in the theatre. As a member of the committee, I was tasked with proposing plays that would be a good fit for the theme and that offer something I would be interested in directing. I remembered that strange yet poignant play I read so many years ago, and decided to read it again and investigate if it might be a good vehicle for our students, remembering little more than the fact that it was written by a woman and featured an all-female-identifying cast of characters. As I began to dig into the text, I was enthralled by the way that Fornés crafted a plot that was driven by women who were confronting their issues, not hiding from them, in contrast to the women of Ibsen, Chekhov, and Williams, whose words surrounded [End Page 149] Click for larger view View full resolution Fig 1. Undergraduate Madelyn Rich (Emma) performs a monologue as other cast members look on...
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