Top Girls

Kip and I have just returned from seeing Top Girls, a 1982 play by Caryl Churchill, presented by the Manhattan Theater Club at the Biltmore Theater. The play's action centers around Marlene, a career-driven woman who finds herself promoted to managing director of the Top Girls Employment Agency, but, as the MTC's promotional literature asks, "at what cost?" The play is widely thought of as difficult, as there is little in the way of plot, though the show is heavy on theatricality. This production is difficult. It is also exhilarating and terrifying.

The strength, really, is in the play itself. The first act is a quite surreal dinner party in which Marlene has invited five women of historical importance to celebrate her promotion. Pope Joan and Lady Nijo, for example. The second act takes place in the backyard of Joyce's home, --Joyce is Marlene's sister--and in the Top Girls offices in London. The action of the third act happens one year prior to the second act. In this way, the play has a circular overlapping that doesn't allow any kind of wondering about what happens to this character or that character--the end of the play is the middle of the action. So, not to spoil anything--but Angie has a nightmare, and we've already seen it.

The dinner party is full of overlapping dialogue, whole sentences are lost in the shuffle, and eventually you get the feeling that despite these character's shared histories--through time and geography--they are all alone in their suffering, Marlene included, unable to understand each other's experiences. This kind of disconnect is something Churchill is constantly returning to in her work.

The performances are also superb, though the accents can be a bit heavy at times, to perhaps some desired comedic effect, but often it tends toward the 'I can't understand her.' There are probably 8 or 9 accents all together, and, truthfully, they could all tone it down a bit. Martha Plimpton is so ravishing as Pope Joan, and then as Angie she is simply devastating. I remember seeing Martha in "Flesh and Blood," the stage adaptation of the Michael Cunningham novel, and wondering how could any actor be so fragile on stage; she really is outstanding. Marisa Tomei is fabulous--and at the end of the play she is allowed a long moment of silence, alone on stage dimly lit. It's a wonderful, deep moment; she stars out into the audience, seemingly right at us.