United States Prototype Festival 2026 [2] – Rima Fand, Precipice: Bass string quintet, piano & mandolin / Mila Henry (music director). La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club, New York, 9.1.2026. (DS)
It has been a time of reckoning for women in today’s society. A murky cloud of what the future holds has emerged, in terms both of their roles in this world and of finding a sense of self-fulfillment. However, the arts show that women are not letting go of their grip and are thriving with an attentive, exuberant audience in tow.
At this year’s Prototype Festival, president and creative producer Beth Morrison once again offered performances that present women’s unyielding messages (and, often, their questions) in beautifully crafted forms. The festival is known for its boundary-bending small opera offerings of great appeal, and one of the highlights was the tightly packed, 75-minute Precipice, whose inviting score and paper-based set proved to be poignant in a black-box theater at La MaMa Experimental Theater Club.
Susan Zeeman Rogers’s work follows the story of Ana, played by Alice Tolan-Mee who never misses a beat with an undeniable sensitivity in the portrayal of Ana’s changing moods. In Act I, Ana is a child energized by youth, curiosity and a desire to explore the natural world around her (shown in miniature dioramas representing her home and forest environment placed on wood planks on the stage floor). Ana grows up under the shadow of the anger and frustration of her housewife mother, played by Daisy Press. Press’s expressive fierceness was exciting and, when required, equally humorous as she barked (very deliberately) lines such as ‘people smile because they are angry’.
In this 1950s household, a domineering, corporate-devotee father orbits. Kyle Pfortmiller brought a blend of stern yet charismatic vocality to the role, and he and Tolan-Mee performed together with piercing tension – in one climactic spanking scene they virtually freeze the room with a palpable mix of complex emotions. As the story skips ahead to the 1970s, Ana finds herself depressed about having been denied joy in the face of pressures to marry her corporate ‘prince charming’, played by Gabriel Hernandez. Her song ‘Who am I’ pressed against the score with a driving choppiness, while singers played myriad choral roles with stinging satirical style in opposition to her.
In Act III, the narrative turns toward the power of Ana’s inner drive to be herself – a lover of nature who desires to transform, arboreally. In a dramatic shift from scenery that had included a four-poster bed and the miniature dioramas, an abstract, surreal space emerges as the curtain pulls back with the cast playing a chorus of ravens in black gowns with huge bird heads – both frightening and viscerally inviting at once. Performed by the versatile Press, an Earth Spirit costumed in gleaming branches charms loudly from the theater balcony and adds the final touch to this fairytale turnabout. Ana is thrown to the floor, the desperate rasps of her voice now sounding like that of one tired from screaming, as she faces, perhaps, a symbolic version of her childhood: a frightened young raven mimicking her in fright.
Video footage of real tree branches in sunlight was projected in fragments onto large, ripped sheets of white paper spread across the floor, transporting the scene into the treetops. This is just one example of a simple but inspired move by all those involved with staging, lighting and object design. The miniature landscape and house dioramas were superbly detailed and added an intimate personal touch, while the decision to project scenes from within those floor models onto the wall screen behind the stage as the story unfolded not only put one in a voyeuristic position, it provided numerous perspectives, adding compelling dimensions to the plot.
To round out the production, Rima Fand’s musical score met each unfolding act with sustained momentum and was in perfect tandem with the drama. Captivating motifs, American folk song string passages, ironic takes on familiar tunes like Mendelssohn’s ‘Wedding March’ and rhythmically powered patterns in the style of Steve Reich meshed cohesively. The ensemble was led by pianist Mila Henry and included a string quintet plus mandolin (whose solos evoked the gentle, child-like spirit of Ana).
As the curtains closed on the last act, it followed, naturally, that the audience clapped. Then a spotlight flooded the black flooring in front of the white curtain. Out came a young girl, pushing a wheelbarrow of sapling trees. Soon to follow was Ana in overalls, smiling (not angrily), hair pulled back. In a touching, quietly triumphant exchange, the two went off the stage. Perhaps this was the precipice – not one that drops off into the frightening abyss of the unknown (a word that anchored much of the libretto) but rather the step a brave woman takes towards self-fulfillment. Thus, a fairy tale better and more gently passed along to future generations than that of blind, self-sacrificing conformity.
Daniele Sahr
Featured Image: Alison Tolan-Mee as Ana in Precipice © Maria Baranova
Production:
Concept, Sets, Objects – Susan Zeeman Rogers
Libretto – Karen Fisher
Direction – Mallory Catlett
Lighting – Miranda Hardy & Tyler Micoleau
Costumes – Olivera Gajic
Sound – Jimmy Kavetas
Video – Yudam Hyung Seok Jeon
Cast:
Ana – Alice Tolan-Mee
Mother / Earth Spirit / Chorus – Daisy Press
Father / Raven / Chorus – Kyle Pfortmiller
Developer / Mother Tree / Chorus – Julius Hollingsworth
Developer’s Wife / Chorus – Lacy Rose
Developer / Fiancé / Chorus – Gabriel Hernandez
Raven Child – Skye Zlatkin
Cover – Justine Aronson