Mother Hicks

Critiqued by Holly Bartges

Suzanne Zeder’s, play, Mother Hicks, produced by the Firehouse Theater Company plays through this coming Sunday.

I am not at all sad it is coming to the end of its run at the John Hand Theatre.

Patrick Mann, Danielle Samler and Linda Suttle portray the town's outcasts, who find strength in one another in Firehouse’s production of Mother Hicks (Photo by Brian Miller )

Although it thinks it wants to explore prejudice, it only points in that direction. If one really wants to explore prejudice, The Arvada Center is the place to go with its production of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible. Research indicated Mother Hicks is a great play for young teens. I totally disagree. Misinformation does not aid and abet an exploration of prejudice. Young teens are quite capable of comprehending The Crucible.

Mother Hicks doesn’t know if it wants to be a comedy, something else, or a combination. In the first act there is little no connection between any of the characters. They don’t know if they are poking fun at the play, the scenario, or the characters. Act II softens because of Linda Suttle’s comfortable status on stage as Mother Hicks. She brings out the comfort with Patrick Mann’s Tuc and Danielle Samler’s Girl, letting them fly into the heart and soul of the characters.

Holes explode through the script, and most of the characters, wooden in stature, and wooden in character-execution, look like they aren’t exactly sure what they are doing, much less why.

There are exceptions.

In the small town of Ware, Illinois during the Great Depression, everyone knows everyone, and everyone else’s business, but no one knows Tuc, the deaf mute, lives with Mother Hicks. Not believable. Not possible. Ever try to keep a secret in a small town?

Mother Hicks lives alone on a hill. When she goes to the small store, she gets what she needs and leaves without speaking to anyone and anyone speaking to her. Aha! She must be a witch. Herein lies the exploration of prejudice.

Work is scare, and food a golden commodity. Girl (Danielle Samler) finds herself up a creek. She lives with a couple, Alma and Hosiah (Nancy Cain and Matthew Schultz), but doesn’t think they really want her. Girl’s free spirited style doesn’t seem to fit the strict religious atmosphere. She’d like to go with Jake (Colin Cooper) and his family who are moving to a larger town hopefully to find work. He’d like to take her, he really would, but he already has so many mouths to feed, and well. It’s not just a good idea.

Tuc comes to life embraced by Patrick Mann. Signing the narration, Tuc is assisted by Deb Flomberg and Emma Atuire with the vocalizations.  Tuc signs his story, and Mann is indeed a prize to watch for his expressions, his signing, and his grace. The narration written in rhyme gets sucked into a singsong tempo, losing meaning and intent. Flomberg stands at his side posturing a beautiful angelic smile with arms plastered to her side. Tuc’s narration doesn’t call for an angelic smile; it calls for expressions revealing the story Tuc wants to tell. Although Altuire does a grand job of providing the called for expressions, she too falls into the singsong rhythm automatically denying meaning to Tuc. Since Tuc lives with Mother Hicks, why is he the one to insinuate,  “Some people claim she is a witch?” That insinuation belongs to one of the other characters. Granted, there exists the possibility the singsong nature destroys a good part of his meaning.

Yelling at Tuc has its humor because everyone has a tendency to yell at deaf people. But why in the script does he wait so long to show the card he can read lips? Comic relief?

Bryce Foster is cute as a button and feisty as many little boys are in the game of double daring with friends. There is a connection between Girl and Ricky, expressing itself through double-dare games. There is also an uncomfortableness shining in the characters from Foster and Samler. Some of the stage direction appears unnaturally forced. Foster has it; he just needs to be told he has it. He’s a sharp, smart, delightful actor who obviously has a future, but comes to Ricky’s role with uncomfortable hesitancy.  

Wilson Walker, (Schultz) comes to the town, notebook in hand researching witches. From what is revealed in his notebook, his research certainly hasn’t been extensive. When the notebook ends up in the hands of Girl, and she shows him he has it, he makes no attempt at wanting to get it back. Something is glaringly wrong. Who, doing research would let anyone, much less a child, walk off with the notebook, without making a fuss? This logic doesn’t read across the boards. He’s what kind of researcher?  Did Zeder think no one would notice?

With an inquisitive mind, Girl reads   how to cast spells, and then performs them. At the same time weird things happen to different towns people. No. No. That isn’t how it works. Having Girl read from a book and follow the directions does not a witch make.

Witchcraft has been highly misunderstood, when it is nothing more than applied metaphysics. The use of spells follows the psychology of human nature, and the laws of the universe. They use different names, different rituals, different techniques, but cut through the web of what they do and what they say, it boils down to understanding how the universe works. Spells don’t happen just because someone reads them out loud.

The play makes a big deal over Mother Hick’s healing the wondrous critters coming to her, unable to heal herself. Her character isn’t explored enough to know if she can’t, won’t, or doesn’t need to. Because she misses her daughter, because she talks to her daughter, there exists the insinuation she can’t heal herself. (If she would become normal like us, do what we do; live the way we live, everything would just be OK.) That attitude confirms what?

Emma Atuire plays one of the three chorus narrators in Firehouse Theatre's production of "Mother Hicks." (Photo by Brian Miller )

In Act II when Girl interacts with Tuc and Mother Hicks, Samler comes into her own as the actor she really is. Suttle’s embracement of Mother Hicks comes with an honesty of a woman who knows who she is, respects her abilities and, lives the way she wants unencumbered by what others think. Suttle provides Mother Hicks as a four dimensional human being. When Samler plays off Suttle and Mann’s choreographed Tuc, she gives honest life to Girl, demonstrating her artistic ability.

Act I only shows what happens when actors freeze into wooden soldiers without giving themselves fully to the character.

Suttle, Mann, and Samler meld well in Act II. Interesting how Mann and Suttle bring out the natural qualities of Samler.

Act I is filled with short choppy scenes with choppy actors who appear to just not be sure what they are doing or why. Their lines are lines-and-body-mechanics-stiff. When Cooper takes on the storekeeper, Clovis, he tries, but tries too hard. Does he growl at Tuc, his employee, because he really is unhappy with his work, or is he uncomfortable working with a deaf mute? If he’s uncomfortable, why has he employed him? Feels sorry for him? No one else will work with him? His growls aren’t growls they’re only yelling words.

Jessie Geesaman grabs onto Izzy with a manipulative too tight hold, overdoing her pretense and so-called horror and busybodiness turning the character into a poor attempt toward believability. She comes across as a would-be comic character that doesn’t know what a would-be comic character really is. The moves are choppy over blown, neither believable nor funny.

Alma doesn’t know whether she really cares about Girl or just wants everyone else to think she cares about the child. If she really cared about her, wouldn’t she take time to listen to her? Wouldn’t she be more concerned over what Girl needs instead of what she wants to do for her? What message does this give? Schultz’s stern-I-don’t-like-Girl-period-Hosiah comes off as an uptight reading of the lines while holding his breath in a military stance. He tries to be an angry man, but instead shows a stiff wooden blowhard

Acting 101 says right up front where it counts whatever character you choose to play, you must believe in the character. Suttle does. Mann does, even though he has to use words that don’t belong to his character, and Samler finds it with Mann and Suttle.

Sean Cochrane’s simplistic set design provides insight into the plight of the town. Scene changes are drawn out, sloppily congested. Looks like no schematic planning went into who changes what and when. Seeing the hurry-scurry between scenes disrupts the flow. Intriguing because there just aren’t that many complicated changes.

Costumes designed by Meredith Murphy definitely fit the mood, the characters, and the actors.  Some confusion exists over Mother Hick’s hooded robe. Strong, warm, covered with rags. That doesn’t read well across the boards. If part of the robe is tattered, all should be tattered.

Of course, Girl wants to know how to find her name, but the play just ends without any development from the town’s people. Are they going to let this happen? Do any of them change their attitude toward Mother Hicks?  Are they going to permit Girl to do what she wants? What happens to Alma’s caring? Do they spend time discovering who Mother Hicks really is, or do they continue their mock pretense of ostracizing her? It’s just left hanging. Mother Hicks just stops dead in its tracks, which I confess was a welcome relief, but as a script it was just dumped. Nothing happened. Nothing developed.

The bottom line is it’s a poorly written play, poorly directed, and poorly acted. The play tries to go someplace but doesn’t. It blatantly appears the playwright writes about something she knows nothing about. If writing for kids, there is a talking down, talking at, underestimating the intelligence.

Go at your own risk. Go because you know someone in the cast and you want to support them, and then tell them all to take a deep breath, relax, and pretend the play makes sense, pretend the characters make sense and see where it leads them.

This production of Mother Hicks is a perfect example of what works and what doesn’t work and why, and what happens with actors who are uncomfortable with what they are doing. A perfect reason to go see it, as it provides a clear understanding for other productions that knock your socks off. You’ll know why.

Mother Hicks
By Suzanne Zeder; Directed by Kris Hipps