Review: "Remembrance"

An exquisite show about how Alzheimer's affects patients and their loved ones  

When I get home from Margaret’s birthday party I find a voicemail from her in my email. 

In a slightly trembling voice—as if she is unsure of who is she calling and what we talked about a couple of hours ago—she says: 

“I just wanted to say thank you for coming, before I can’t say it. Before I... you know… before I am really not ‘me’ anymore.”

I feel such sudden sorrow in my heart that I am unable to breathe for a few moments. 

My hour and a half spent in the home and mind of Margaret, a character from Linked Dance Theatre’s Remembrance, felt so strangely and beautifully real to me. So even if I wanted, it would be difficult to forget Margaret.        

Maya Gonzalez, Cintia Rosenthal, and Rita McCann in Remembrance.

Photo by Jordan Chlapecka

. . .

At Remembrance, the audience members are guests at Margaret’s 65th birthday party. And because it is a surprise party, we are quietly let into a red brick house on Governors Island in small groups, by Frankie (Edward Mylechreest, also the producer of the show), a male nurse. Another nurse, Fran (Kendra Slack, Co-Artistic Director and writer of Remembrance), meets us inside and offers a flower of one of the three colors: pink, yellow or blue (more on that later). By the time we meet the third nurse, it all starts to seem like déjà vu.            

“Hi, I’m Francis, I’m new.”  

A third nurse (Kellyn Thornburg) greets us in the living room with the same cheer and nervousness. She quickly puts the guests to work, asking for volunteers to decorate the homey-looking living room and to sign a birthday card for Margaret. I drift around the space aimlessly looking at photographs. I was warned in the invitation email that Margaret was diagnosed with Alzheimer's three years ago. As I walk around the living room, I notice how the decay of her mind makes its way into the surroundings: half of the faces on the photographs are now pixelated to the point of abstraction, and there are noticeably unpainted patches on the bright orange walls. And what about the three nurses with similar names saying the same things over and over? It seems like all of Margaret’s caregivers over the years have started to blend together.  

Soon Margaret’s reality reveals even more cracks. As I finish reading a poem framed on the wall—‘Tell Me a Story’ by Robert Penn Warren, inscribed by Margaret’s son, Tyler—Fran takes the frame off the wall. She takes a few steps away, then comes back and hangs the poem back, then repeats the same actions in loop. Before I am able to make sense of this scene, quietly unfolding away from everybody’s eyes, Margaret (Cintia Rosenthal) comes down to her guests, accompanied by her son, Tyler (Jordan Chlapecka, Co-Artistic Director and writer of Remembrance). She seems to be genuinely and pleasantly surprised, but also nervous and put on the spot. Margaret sweetly engages in small talk with her guests and receives gifts. As she unwraps the presents, we find out more about her: for instance, she likes flowers, and she is a painter. 

But behind the tender and quiet facade there is a storm of feelings. Love, grief, doubt, confusion, joy, and anger inhabit her past. The realistic exposition of the birthday party fades away as soon as we are left alone with Margaret and is followed by poetic choreography and monologue. There are three “Margarets” now (Maya Gonzalez and Rita McCann playing her two younger versions). They wear similar turquoise dresses dotted with lilac flowers, and  pearl brooches pinned to their chests, and neat white shoes (costumes by Nicolas Smith). The three Margarets invite the audience to travel through memories with them, while the doors to those memory can still be open. We are free to follow any of the characters and walk anywhere but only through the open doors. 

This  sandbox format allows us to travel through several rooms on the first floor of the house and meet Margaret at various stages of her life. We find out about her dreams to become an artist, the conflicting goals of being both a painter and a mother, and the progression of her Alzheimer’s. In any given scene, it’s not easy to tell whether we are seeing a flashback or a distorted memory. I am in Tyler’s bedroom, where he is nine years old and Margaret (Rita McCann) is putting him to sleep. Tyler begs her to read Peter Pan, but, unable to see the words on the page, she sheepishly asks one of the audience members to read it for her. As the volunteer proceeds, soft music fills the room, and the mother-son duo engage in a beautiful dance number. Site-responsive choreography, created by the artists in collaboration, is a signature of Linked Dance Theatre’s work; here it reminds me of  Third Rail Projects’ Then She Fell.                

Remembrance contains three parts and based on the price of a ticket (indicated by the blue, yellow, or pink flower pinned to one’s chest upon the entrance), the experiences last a different amount of time. Those who just want to get a taste of the show can pick up free tickets for the first part of the experience on the day of, on a first-come, first-served basis. (The show also functions as a public art installation with documentary audio, which anyone can tour on their own for free outside of the performances). Those with paid tickets have access to parts two and three, which take place on the  second floor of the house. 

Margaret’s confused state of mind becomes fully evident through the design of the second floor, featuring several art installations (design by Chis Kelly). The indoors and outdoors intertwine in the design of the upstairs rooms, “Tyler” becomes Paul, Margaret’s late husband, memories mix up even further. The sandbox format remains, but with fewer audience members the scenes become more intimate. Occasionally, an attendee is taken away for a one-on-one scene. Mine happened in the storage closet, where Margaret keeps her secrets in small numbered boxes. This playful scene has a couple of simple magic tricks, which, connected to her stories, have a mesmerizing effect on me. I don’t remember ever being that surprised or delighted by the revealing of an object from a seemingly empty box. After witnessing a few moments of her vulnerability, I develop a strong connection to the incarnation of Margaret portrayed by Rita McCann, so trust comes easily. Without an effort of will or imagination, I truly feel like I am just hiding away from the world with a friend in a closet. But this brief moment of clarity and joy is soon over and I am off to the finale, the darkest part of Remembrance.           

The third chapter of the show is performed to three audience members and is increasingly disturbing throughout. Margaret’s various anxieties of the past all seem to channel into a single terrifying thought: “Will I have enough time?” My heart breaks every time as each of the three Margarets falls out of reality again or forgets who I am. But eventually, the remaining guests are brought downstairs, and asked politely by the nursing staff to leave, as the hostess is not feeling well. I give up the flower pinned by my chest and somberly stroll away from Margaret and her memories, carrying the smell of lavender on my wrist.       

Being put in the position of Margaret’s friend, I feel pain for her with all my heart, but I also feel childish joy during her “brighter” moments, like the scene in the closet. That’s why listening to her voicemail is so bittersweet. The voicemail  means that not all the doors in her mind have closed yet. But how long until they will? How much time does she have? And how much time do I have?  

In one of the scenes Margaret (Maya Gonzalez) offers me a simple test to diagnose Alzheimer's:

to draw an analog clock. It takes me a few strokes of a pen to complete my clock, while she, on the other hand, struggles to even give it a recognizable shape. She looks at my work with a mixture of pride and envy, then folds it and gives it to me. 

“It’s your time. Spend it on the ones you love.”

Remembrance had a profound and cathartic effect on me and not only because it deals with the sensitive topic of Alzheimer's, but also because of the way it treats it. Emotionally intelligent, and tightly put together from an artistic standpoint, the show takes care of its audience by providing a beautifully designed, safe environment and a touching and relatable story through which one can truly feel real emotions. When creating immersive theatre it’s so easy to get carried away by elaborate concepts, cool designs, and the multitudes of the media. Linked Dance Theatre manages to have all of that and get to one’s soul.

(This review was published on NoProscenium.com on 9.19)