{"id":100390,"date":"2016-07-14T14:39:58","date_gmt":"2016-07-14T18:39:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=100390"},"modified":"2016-07-14T15:36:56","modified_gmt":"2016-07-14T19:36:56","slug":"om-alone","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/07\/14\/om-alone\/","title":{"rendered":"Om Alone"},"content":{"rendered":"

Bess Wohl\u2019s play\u00a0<\/i>Small Mouth Sounds\u00a0<\/i>returns to the stage.<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

My friend D\u2019s first retreat was a dive into the deep end. It was ten days long, silent, held at a famous meditation center, and led by a renowned teacher. On her first evening, after orientation, she returned to her room, lay down on her bed, and began to drift off to sleep. Then she discovered a deer tick on her body. Panic set in, but not from fear of Lyme disease. Could she manage to locate tweezers and a first aid kit somewhere in the Zendo without breaking the freshly imposed silence?\u00a0<\/p>\n

Spiritual retreats seem a topic ripe for comic exploitation. Seeking \u2026 something<\/em>, folks who don\u2019t know one another are thrust into monastic discipline and imposed camaraderie for a compressed period of time. In my own experience, retreats follow a pattern. There\u2019s the first morning feeling: What the fuck have I got myself into? And the last evening feeling: What a special group of people this is! And in between, the constant judgments about who\u2019s annoying and unworthy; the instabonding with roommates you\u2019ll never see again (and if you do, they won\u2019t remember you); and the encounters with stalwarts from central casting, like the one who weeps spontaneously for no apparent reason, the one who can\u2019t stay off e-mail, the one getting over a bad divorce, the one who always arrives late, the one who tries to (or is asked to) depart, the one who wears craft clothing, the one who sits on the floor in perfect full lotus when everyone else is in chairs. There\u2019s moderate outdoor activity, a repressed undercurrent of sexual and romantic curiosity, the required holding-hands-in-a-circle moment and, of course, the gatherings during which a teacher imparts wisdom. All of it begs to be staged.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Bess Wohl\u2019s astounding play\u00a0Small Mouth Sounds<\/em>, which opened this week at the Pershing Square Signature Center, has all those moments and more. It doesn\u2019t involve deer ticks, though there are plenty of mosquitoes in the damp forest outside the Zendo\u2014think bleached wood beams and tidy shoe racks\u2014where it\u2019s set. During its 110 minutes, there\u2019s very little dialogue for the six on-stage characters . How could there be? It\u2019s a silent retreat. Instead, the script comprises enormously detailed stage directions. A teacher\u2014always offstage, and heard only over a mike, like a Buddhist Big Brother\u2014owns most of the play\u2019s lines, and, except when he sneezes or hectors or (oops) has to take a phone call, they are thrillingly banal: \u201cClose your eyes and return to the stillness of who \u2026 you \u2026 are.\u201d His cryptic pronouncements have no meaning or sense: \u201cI dreamt I was a lawn mower \u2026 mowing a lawn,\u201d and he freaks out the students with the mother of all retreat parables, about a frog who lives in a well and journeys to see the ocean\u2014then drops dead. Excuse me?<\/p>\n

The phenomenal cast build their characters and articulate their performances with carefully calibrated facial modulations, body language, and movement, helped by calculated details in their costumes and props. (Turquoise fingernail extensions, baggy white undershorts, junk-food snacks in a Trader Joe\u2019s shopping bag, a child\u2019s scuffed-up backpack.) It rains a lot. They are paired incompatibly in tents. They are mostly miserable and don\u2019t get along. But they have their moments. Each, as we come to discover, seeks release from some deep, private pain. One Candide-like character, a guy who\u2019s been through a ten-car pileup on the freeway of life, has the play\u2019s only soliloquy, in which he asks, Why seek peace in a world we\u2019ve wrecked and that\u2019s too late to save? The others get a line once in a blue moon, usually just a word or two, \u201cGood-bye\u201d or \u201cSorry\u201d or the bitchiest zinger of all under these circumstances: \u201cThere\u2019s no more lunch.\u201d<\/p>\n

Small Mouth Sounds<\/em> walks a razor\u2019s edge between parody and profundity. Part of the play\u2019s impressive cleverness is that it knows the members of the audience\u2014like any audience in the theater\u2014are on their own silent retreat, there to escape routine and to return to the world in some intangible way enhanced. That happens. \u201cYou are not alone\u201d\u2014a pabulum mantra if ever there were\u2014the teacher intones as all the characters, save one, leave the stage. We want to believe that. But the play itself argues back, acknowledging the vast indifference of the universe as that solitary figure, in the dimming light, embraces a tender relic. We were crying by then, even though Small Mouth Sounds<\/em> is funny as hell.<\/p>\n

\u00a0J<\/em>eff Seroy is senior vice president at Farrar, Straus and Giroux and a correspondent for the\u00a0<\/i>Daily.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Bess Wohl\u2019s play\u00a0Small Mouth Sounds\u00a0returns to the stage. My friend D\u2019s first retreat was a dive into the deep end. It was ten days long, silent, held at a famous meditation center, and led by a renowned teacher. On her first evening, after orientation, she returned to her room, lay down on her bed, and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":811,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[22700],"tags":[639,19261,23248,425,23253,23244,23251,23245,23246,1494,973,23250,13098,23252,23247,17553,23249,44],"class_list":["post-100390","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-our-correspondents","tag-acting","tag-actors","tag-bess-wohl","tag-drama","tag-facial-expressions","tag-jeff-seroy","tag-meditation-retreat","tag-meditiation","tag-new-age","tag-new-york-times","tag-pain","tag-real-life","tag-review","tag-silent-meditation","tag-small-mouth-sounds","tag-solitude","tag-the-stage","tag-theater"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nBess Wohl\u2019s play \u2018Small Mouth Sounds\u2019 returns to the stage.<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Bess Wohl\u2019s play \u2018Small Mouth Sounds\u2019 returns to the stage.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/07\/14\/om-alone\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Om Alone by Jeff Seroy\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"July 14, 2016 \u2013 Bess Wohl\u2019s play\u00a0Small Mouth Sounds\u00a0returns to the stage.My friend D\u2019s first retreat was a dive into the deep end. 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