Jenna Doolittle, Anais Alexandra, and Rebecca Louise Miller in a scene from Fault Lines | David Epstein
Author: Rebecca Louise Miller
Description: Twenty years after the disappearance of their childhood friend, three women are forced to confront the incident that reshaped their lives.
Year Written/Copyrighted: 2009
Date Added: 1/22/2012
Content Advisory: Adult language and themes
Characters are Mostly Young Adults ·
Coming of Age ·
Grief and Mourning ·
Mostly Female Characters ·
2 Acts, 65 Minutes
4 Females, 1 Male
Fault Lines is fully protected by copyright law and is subject to royalty. All inquiries concerning production, publication, reprinting or use of this play in any form should be addressed to email@example.com.
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From the Author:
Fault Lines was inspired by an un-digestible coming of age experience. It was a semifinalist for the O’Neill National Playwrights Conference and a finalist for Playwrights Week at the Lark Play Development Center.
All my gratitude and love to David Epstein and Invisible City Theater Company, for not letting me back away from this most uncomfortable story.
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Original Production Information
Fault Lines was first presented by Invisible City Theater Company (David Epstein, Artistic Director) on December 9, 2009, at the Abingdon Theatre Arts Complex, New York City, with the following cast and credits:
Bethany: Jenna Doolittle
Kat: Anaïs Alexandra
Jessica: Rebecca Louise Miller
Grayson: Tobin Ludwig
Fourth Figure: Jocelyn Kuritsky
Directed by: David Epstein
Lighting Design: Joe W. Novak
Set Design: Ira Haskell
Sound Design: David Epstein
Stage Manager: Alexander Cape
Producer: Cecelia Frontero
Fault Lines, by Rebecca Louise Miller, is the second excellent, very mature play by a young woman playwright that I've seen in as many weeks. (The other one is This.) We're having an exciting December, theatre-wise, here in NYC.
The fault lines of the title refer specifically to the ones running under some of the most populated areas of California:
So I'm sitting on the highway for an hour, listening to this crone from Greenpeace pitch a retirement home for poultry, and suddenly it occurs to me that my car is sitting not twenty feet away from the Rodgers Creek Fault. And I think: our major roadway stretches over land that every expert says will liquefy without warning at some point in the next 20 years, and the people on the radio are screaming about the rights of menopausal chickens?
You can already see where Miller's metaphor is going: this is a play about fault—not so much finding or assigning it, but struggling to cope with it when there is so much to go around. The character who speaks the lines above is a thirtysomething woman named Kat who has returned to the neighborhood where she grew up in Northern California for a reunion with two friends from her childhood. With Bethany and Jessica, Kat shares a remarkable, unique experience—they were the other girls in the room when a fourth friend, Nina, was kidnapped by a stranger in front of their eyes. They've been carrying around the conflicting feelings of guilt and anxiety and fear and anger for 20 years. This week they will spend together promises something like closure, because the man who assaulted and then murdered their friend is about to be executed by the state.
But this is not your typical survivors-in-recovery story; Miller's approach is wondrously grown-up, as she depicts here the coming together of three women who have gone very separate ways to try to cope, unsatisfactorily, with the horrifying event that unites them. During the course of the play, each will attempt to convince the other two of the soundness of the choices and compromises they've made. The convincing will mostly be directed, though, at themselves. Fault Lines is a play about accepting choices and moving on from them, which is how life really works, every day we live it.
These three women are interesting individuals even without their shared tragedy. Kat is the mother of a young daughter, dealing with a recent forced separation from her husband. Bethany has two little boys, whom she is raising in a "green" house built by her husband. Jessica is the spokeswoman for a nonprofit organization that tries to prevent crimes like the one perpetrated against Nina.
There's a fourth character in the play, a TV journalist named Grayson who wants to get an interview with Kat, Bethany, and Jessica; he's staking out Bethany's lawn (where the three are staying), along with lots of other media folk. Grayson earnestly insists that theirs is a story that the world needs to hear, but the women really aren't buying it. One of the timely themes of Miller's play suggests a flip-side to our reality-TV-addicted nation: being famous sucks, and why people go to such lengths to acquire instantaneous and fleeting celebrity is one of our society's great mysteries.
Of course a fifth character—Nina herself, or at least her spirit—hovers over the proceedings throughout. But the great thing about Fault Lines is that, while it's rooted in an event that happened two decades in the past, it is always about the present, and how each moment leads to a next moment that must be lived, dealt with, decided.
David Epstein's staging of the play is exemplary. The production design, which includes a unit set by Ira Haskell and lighting by Joe W. Nova, is spare and simple and elegant; Epstein keeps the pace taut and gripping throughout. Miller herself appears as Jessica in a smart, restrained performance. Jenna Doolittle's Bethany manages to be simple and complicated at the same time, but Anais Alexandra's Kat is perhaps too intense in places to be completely convincing. Tobin Ludwig, in a fine performance, gives us a Grayson who makes a case for his intrusiveness that we almost can empathize with.
Fault Lines is Miller's first play; she is definitely a talent to keep an eye on.
review of the original production in 2009
Gonna have to be. Well, let’s get comfy—I just spent two hours stuck in traffic listening to the eco-freaks on local radio. You guys hear about the spent hens?
(Interrupting before they can respond.)
That’s spent, as in … no longer able to lay eggs. So the local egg farmers can’t use them … and they’re too tough to eat. So they gas them, I think, and bury them. Yeah, and it gets worse—not all of them are being completely destroyed, see, and some of the neighbors have been finding very confused, muddy old birds walking around their yards. Zombie Chickens! And here comes the kicker—a group of concerned senior citizens are organizing on behalf of the hens. I shit you not! Only in Northern California, where old liberals come to die! So I’m sitting on the highway, listening to this crone from Greenpeace pitch a retirement home for poultry, and suddenly it occurs to me that my car is sitting not twenty feet away from the Rodgers Creek Fault. And I think: our major roadway stretches over land that every expert predicts will liquefy without warning at some point in the next few years, and the people on the radio are screaming about the rights of menopausal chickens?
The fault cuts through Memorial Hospital too. And Burbank Elementary.
We’ve known about Rodgers Creek since we were kids, why haven’t they done anything?!
I don’t know! Doesn’t it seem like everybody’s job? Where are the grown-ups in this place?
Somehow I don’t think we’re talking about chickens anymore.