PLAY: My Name is Rachel Corrie at Seattle Repertory Theatre

My Name is Rachel Corrie,
by Rachel Corrie, Katherine Viner & Alan Rickman
starring Marya Sue Kaminski, directed by Braden Abraham
Seattle Repertory Theatre, March 15 to April 22, 2007

Ten years ago, I was visiting my ex-girlfriend in New York and she suggested we go see a movie. It was a less painful proposition than talking to her, so we drove to the local multiplex and picked Jerry Maguire, then in its first days of release. It seemed the least objectionable choice, but my expectations were incredibly low. And I ended up really liking the movie, so much so that I recommended it to friends when I returned to Seattle. Most of whom ended up hating it. It was, by that time, the much-hyped sensation we remember it to be.

Such is the power of expectations.

And surely some of that is in play with my reaction to Seattle Rep’s production of My Name is Rachel Corrie. I was underwhelmed by the play as a piece of literature, and further put off by a fawning review from a local critic whose tastes rarely synch with mine. I entered the theater with exceedingly low expectations.

And it blew me away.

Almost all of the credit goes to Marya Sue Kaminski as Corrie. She manages to avoid the nigh-inevitable lags in energy and/or narrative that plague one-person shows. Kaminski is immediate and vitally present every moment she is on stage, deftly metamorphosing from exuberant Rachel to terrified and serious Rachel. Her dynamic portrayal of a young woman living the courage of her convictions is enough to pierce the shell of hardened cynics, a group among which I count myself.


The production isn’t, however, without it faults. I found it surprising and disappointing, given the level of controversy that follows the play, that the epilogue, Corrie’s death, would be handled so clumsily. After Kaminski leaves stage, several disembodied voices, presumably of Corrie’s companions, describe the events of her death, laying responsibility firmly at the feet of the IDF with claims that the bulldozer driver “clearly” saw Corrie over the dozer’s scoop, and hesitated directly over her body before withdrawing.

Until that point, the production managed to be bigger than the politics that surround it. Kaminski’s performance is so strong that the play clearly reads as the perspective of a single person. While still a political play, it avoids being a political statement. By introducing a plurality of voices in the end, all of whom share the political perspective of Corrie, it moves from one woman’s perspective to discourse on the facts. Until that point, there was no need for equivalency within the play, but that move to multiple voices demands it. A far more powerful conclusion could have been reached with an objective prologue, reporting her death and the disputed facts thereof.

This and a brief backstory digression about a trip to Dairy Queen with mental health clients that served only to diffuse tension that might better have been directed elsewhere are the only missteps in a strong production, anchored by a stellar performance by Kaminski.

It was worth mounting, and is worth seeing, much to my (delighted) surprise.


reviewed by Jim Jewell, 497 words

PLAY: My Name is Rachel Corrie, by Rachel Corrie, Katherine Viner & Alan Rickman

My Name is Rachel Corrie,
by Rachel Corrie, Katherine Viner & Alan Rickman
Theatre Communications Group, September 2006

[Disclaimer: I work for the Seattle Repertory Theatre, which is mounting a production of My Name is Rachel Corrie that opens later this month. However, this is only in the interest of full disclosure; my job at the Rep is evening/weekend receptionist, and I have no connection or investment in this production. For further clarification, this review is of the text of the play, not of any individual production.]

Don’t be fooled by any of the PR that producing companies sling about My Name is Rachel Corrie not being a political play. It is an overtly political play, and can’t help being so.

Which isn’t to say their protestations are utterly groundless. On its face, My Name is Rachel Corrie can be called one girl’s story, told in her own words. But the simple fact of the matter is that we would not care about the story of this particular girl were it not for the political context of her death.

Rachel Corrie was a student at Evergreen State College in Olympia, WA when she traveled to Gaza to join international activists in protesting the destruction of Palestinian homes by the Isreali Defense Force (IDF). On March 16, 2003, Corrie was killed by an IDF bulldozer while attempting to block the destruction of a house; the details of that day are disputed.

Depending on your point of view, Corrie is either a folk hero or a young girl who got herself killed by stepping into the middle of someone else’s fight. The very fact of the play’s existence sides with the former. We are only interested in Corrie because of the controversy that is sure to ensue when the play’s political relevance is recognized. Nobody that would choose to produce this play wants to side completely with Corrie in the incredibly complex Israeli-Palestinian conflict, yet it is impossible to separate endorsement of her politics from the choice to mount it.

Because what My Name is Rachel Corrie really is, is a bad play. OK, maybe not bad, but lackluster and uninspiring in and of itself. What power it has is drawn from the energy evident in Corrie’s writing, the energy of a young woman in the process of finding herself. And, at moments, however brief, it delivers in her wit and earnestness. But, far more often, it comes off as precious or contrived, and during those times, the bulk of the play, the only thing that can potentially draw the audience along is the politics, the pull of her inevitable end, her martyrdom.

As a collection of first-person accounts (edited by Viner and Rickman from Corrie's writings), the play can only truly represent one viewpoint, Corrie’s. The only hints of the complexity of the political situation in which she inserts herself come when she relates the words of a Palestinian doctor, who notes that life in Gaza was good before the Intifada, and the occasional hand-wringing of her parents over suicide bombings as a tactic.

In the end, there really isn’t anything wrong with deciding that Corrie is, in fact, a folk hero, a young woman with the bravery to take direct action in support of her ideals. But, to deny that this play’s merits hang on acceptance of her specific choice, and cannot be viewed in a political vacuum, misses any point the play might ultimately make.

reviewed by Jim Jewell, 490 words