Winston Churchill described Russia as “ A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma." The same could be said, much less profoundly, of Antlia Pneumatica. Just when you think you’ve gotten a handle on it, the play shifts. Is it a poetic show about unfulfilled dreams? A scientific dissertation? Or one big ghost story? A group of friends have gathered at the Texas Hill Country home of Nina (Annie Parisse) and Liz (April Matthis) to have a wake for their old friend, Sean. The first unexplained mystery is why are the two sisters from different races, one white, one black? Seems like that might be an interesting story. The mood of the ranch house is pretty gloomy, and while we get the feeling of the withering Southwestern heat, the pace is glacial. There are two outstanding performances in a very good cast. Annie Parisse, dark eyed and bone thin, seems at once tightly wound and almost preternaturally calm. She looks forward to the arrival of her old lover, Adrian (Rob Campbell), but she also seems extremely trepidatious. Was he truly the one who got away, despite Nina’s assertion that her life is good? We hear, but never see, her two children. When Crystal Finn bursts on the scene, the energy level on stage immediately shoots up. Her Bama is loopy, lovable, and bursting with news, a most welcome presence. Tidbits throughout offer clues to what’s real and what isn’t. Is Don dead, or not? How can he carry any news? As is pointed out, what’s wrong with Adrian that he turns down guacamole and fried chicken? The ranch house is not where Nina and Liz grew up; it was bought by their rock-star father as a retreat. So, why is the reunion being held there? Why is Nina’s child so distraught about the killing of an ant? Where does the fanciful funeral Nina describes as her mother’s style factor in? Is there a connection between the tiny ant and the vast Antlia Pneumatica amorphous constellation? Author Anne Washburn has admitted that she does believe in ghosts; director Ken Rus Schmoll creates the illusion of an existence where this is not only possible, but even probable. The ritualistic composing of pies becomes hypnotic, even lyrical, while the night sky seems almost impossibly full of stars. A dreamlike quality pervades. Antlia Pneumatica was commissioned for Playwrights Horizons in 2010; it took years and much careful thought and planning to come to fruition. Anne Washburn wrote it at a silent retreat for writers in Texas run by Erik Ehn. Washburn has admittedly incorporated the venue into the play; both the Blue Hole and the pecan orchard are part of the landscape. The playwright explains the title, “It’s a real constellation…this French scientist just sort of went to town on creating completely obscure and impossible to see constellations…it’s not like every star belonged to a constellation. All of the dots were not connected.” Perhaps it’s best to accept Antlia Pneumatica in just this fashion.
