Inside you, these two wolves fight for dominance. Ashley Lyon as Crystal and Parker Jennings as Nora. Photo by Apollinaire Theatre Co.

Presented by Apollinaire Theatre Company
By Abby Rosebrock
Directed by Brookes Reaves and Danielle Fauteux Jacques
Scenic and sound design by Joseph Lark-Riley
Featuring: Parker Jennings, Mauro Canepa, Mariela Lopez-Ponce, Paola Ferrer, Ashly Lyon

April 17 – May 10
Chelsea Theatre Works
189 Winnisimmet Street
Chelsea, MA 02150

Review by Maegan Clearwood

Content advisory: this play discusses and depicts many sensitive topics. To avoid spoilers, I am linking the production information page here, where prospective audience members can find more information.

CHELSEA – Abby Rosebrock’s play Dido of Idaho fits seamlessly into one of my favorite, hyper-specific storytelling subgenres: the redemptive, darkly hilarious portrayal of a mentally unwell heterosexual woman hitting ultimate rock bottom. Think Fleabag, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, Bridesmaids – comedies that don’t shy away from the muck, despair, violence, sexual depravity, and absurdism that 21^st century womanhood frequently encompasses.

Dido of Idaho, now playing at Apollinaire Theatre Company, has this messiness in spades: bodily fluids, profanity, internalized misogyny, and cat fights galore. It’s a series of tonal ricochets, swinging from disgust to hope to grief and back again in a matter of seconds. It’s relentlessly honest, laughing in the face of feminine acceptability, daring the audience to look away.

It’s also an incredibly difficult script to pull off. Stories in this feminist-dark-comedy-genre walk an almost impossible line: our protagonist must be selfish and empathetic; her rock bottom must be comically bizarre and relatable; her redemption arc must be messily in character and narratively satisfying. This production, directed by Brookes Reaves and Danielle Fauteux Jacques, makes it look easy.

Parker Jennings portrays Nora, an adjunct musicology professor who is addicted to three things: alcohol; her manchild affair partner Michael; and the 17^th century opera Dido and Aeneas by Henry Purcell, the tragic, ironically apt tale of a scorned woman who causes her own demise. Nora does and says reprehensible things to get what she wants, but Jennings finds humanity in the deepest depths of her character’s depravity. Every insult, sneer, and manipulative turn of phrase is grounded in a sense of pain, even before Nora’s true motivations are made clear.

Jennings carries the play’s comedic highs and grief-stricken lows, but her scene partners are also quite brilliant. Mauro Canepa is appropriately skeevy as Michael; Mariela Lopez-Ponce is chillingly cruel and kind as Nora’s closeted, judgmental Christian mother, Julie; and Apollinaire veteran Paola Ferrer brings some frothy fun to the ensemble as Ethel, Julie’s longtime “roommate.”

Jennings is most impressively flanked by Ashley Lyon as Crystal: domestic goddess, former Miss Idaho runner up, and, most infuriatingly for Nora, Michael’s wife. Crystal and Nora’s relationship anchors the story, played out in an astoundingly compelling scene that is equal parts slapstick buffoonery and emotional vulnerability. Jennings and Lyon are a masterclass duo in comedic timing, and the production is worth watching for their capstone scene alone.

Rosebrock’s play is quirky, smart, and ever surprising, although it has some clunky moments, and there’s an act two twist that didn’t quite coalesce for me. Still, the actors are so committed to the text that I bought every awkward line that came out of their mouths. The performance I saw this weekend had one of the most enraptured audiences I have been a part of in ages: gasps, outbursts of rage, and spontaneous applause abound – a testament to both the unconventional script and more than capable performers.

Apollinaire doesn’t have the biggest production budget in Boston, but they know how to use their resources well. The set (designed by Joseph Lark-Riley, also sound designer) is deceptively simple: Michael and Crystal’s house is represented with a sofa, some tables and chairs, and a small kitchenette, accented by some tacky purple flourishes that Crystal is no doubt immensely proud of. Act two transforms into a cozy hippie cabin, with just a few clever swaps of furniture and fabric coverings. Regal red drapery frames the living space, a nod to the play’s tragic operatic roots.

Every inch of the set plays a part in the overall storytelling. Hints of the inhabitants’ lives are readable in the countertop clutter and pillow coverings. The set is also astoundingly usable: actors interact with every inch of their surroundings, including the refrigerator and microwave oven (which eventually produces actual freshly baked cookies).

The intricacy of the set design is a testament to the care that went into this production. The artistic team took a weird, risky little play and brought it to life with delicacy and love.

Dido of Idaho probably isn’t for everyone. It’s ugly and crass, unafraid to walk the line of political propriety or make jokes about deadly serious topics. It’s also one of the funniest, least predictable things I’ve seen in a theater in a long, long time.

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