Spoilers ahead for “Mercury.”
Case Western Reserve University’s Theater Department staged a production of “Mercury” to close out February. Steve Yockey’s play is a thriller comedy about the insatiable need for vengeance. Complete with blood, immortals and (simulated) animal cruelty, “Mercury” is a visceral exploration of what revenge can do to the people we care for.
The audience is first introduced to Pamela (Johanna Perry) and Heather (Abigail Gilman), a pair of neighbors in an illicit affair. They bicker, with Pamela playing the part of the detached, scorned paramour and Heather kindly trying to move on. Tension builds as Heather talks about her missing dog and fidgeting with a book-shaped package, until Pamela reveals she killed him. The expectation of “Mercury”’s theme is immediately set: normal people driven to do absurd things.
We’re then taken to a curiosity shop, where Olive (Reighan Bean) is attempting to curse Brian (Alexander Jones), her neighbor’s partner, so that she can have the neighbor, Nick (Dwight “Alex” Alexander III), all to herself. The unease with Olive is more obvious as Bean portrays as an Aunt Gladys type (“Weapons”), complete with bright clothes and grating voice. While it was pleasant to hear her talk, the more obvious oddity did add something minor to Bean’s performance. After much persuasion, Olive convinces the strange owner of the curiosity shop, Alicia (Evie Oehlers) to sell her the strongest cursed item they have, a book.
With that, the instrument of revenge is out in the world. Brian and Pamela open their books and, in a whirlwind of flashing lights, Pamela and Brian disintegrate. Gilman lets out a truly blood curdling scream, lending humanity to Heather. Meanwhile, Olive creepily sweeps up Brian’s ashes and welcomes Nick (to his own home).
We reunite with our victims in some hellscape, completely alone and surrounded by smoke. They commiserate until a man(-ish) “Sam” (Kosta Volas) covered in blood steps out on stage. This only adds more unease to the situation. It is revealed that “Sam,” the physical manifestation of vengeance, is the partner of Alicia. The cursed book was meant to have one copy, and yet, there are two. “Sam” and Alicia seamlessly transition to bickering reminiscent of a workplace comedy, before reminding the audience this is a thriller and a victim has to go.
Though they both want to go home, there can only be one. Pamela, dog murderer, grabs the knife and stabs Brian. Perry has created a Pamela that is so cartoonishly evil, yet disgustingly believable, you can’t help but be entranced or even sickly glad when she is doomed to the hellscape. “Sam,” echoes what the audience was thinking, claiming that Pamela deserves to stay here while warning that the way home is not easy.
Treacherous it is, and we see Brian next in a bear carcass. While Nick and Brian certainly have their issues, Alexander and Jones give empathetic performances. Brian may not have needed to die to work out his domestic issues, but it is a good perspective shift. You can’t help but root for Brian, feeling twistedly fulfilled when Olive is condemned to hell in his place. In the end, Olive and Pamela’s acts of violence are denounced, Nick and Brian work on themselves and everyone is forever changed by the hellscape. Only the immortals persist, unaffected.
These immortals are what make “Mercury” work. Without them, “Mercury” is a solid piece about vengeance, but it would lack the punch that absurdity yields. As Oehlers put it, “[“Mercury”] tackles a lot of really difficult concepts and difficult relationships, but it’s so funny. And if you want a play to have impact, you can’t just be dramatic, dramatic, dramatic, because people will just get sad and get bored and leave. You have to be funny.”
This interpretation certainly shines through in her performance. In collaboration with the student director, Rachel Greidinger, Oehlers came up with the idea that Alicia was once a trapped victim herself, who pushed through and became this bridge between hell and earth. This places Alicia in an interesting space, she is both human and entirely detached. When asked how Alicia sees the world, Oehlers said, “she thinks it’s so funny, everything is a bit.” Alicia sees the world as somewhat “whimsical,” but in the same breath will remind the audience of the reality of the hellscape. Alicia is above the story and, in some ways, the genre.
Volas does a very similar thing with “Sam.” Despite being the literal manifestation of vengeance, more emotion than being, Volas plays “Sam” as a guy. “Sam”’s original entrance is straight out of a horror movie, but it is immediately undercut by comedic frustration. “This dude just got done torturing people,” said Volas, “He wants to go on his break, but two people are in his break room, and he just wants to get this done.” A lesser performer would use this beat for pure comedic relief, but Volas’s performance adds real depth to the character while getting genuine laughs. “He wasn’t of this world,” said Volas, “but the funny part is that he acted like somebody from our world.” That familiarity is not accidental. People can overcome vengeful outbursts, like Brian, but they can also become like “Sam.” It is a dark mirror to ourselves, that happens to crack jokes and drink Monster.
In developing such odd characters, space is required to really dig into their cores. Fortunately, the rehearsal space really allowed for improvisation. Actors were encouraged to use the Michael Chekhov technique, which involves creating one symbolic gesture for the character before starting scene work. Volas explained that “it forces you to think about what your character is thinking about in any given moment.” Oehlers shares this appreciation saying, “It was the most fun I ever had in a rehearsal process, and I felt so loved by the cast and the crew…even if I messed up, it didn’t matter, because we just kept going.” That certainly shines through to the final show. The characters feel like people, or at least as much like people as immortals can be.
On a technical level, the most interesting asset to “Mercury” are the transitions. In the original staging “Mercury,” the whole set is a turntable, with Alicia turning the set to switch scenes. It gives her a sense of control and adds to the supernatural feel of the play. The CWRU Theater Department did not have access to a stage with a turntable, but they did aim to keep that control. Of their effort, Oehlers said, “I stand at the door and I watch them as they look at each other and maybe start to get angry, and then they cannot start their conversation until I leave.” Though she may not have a physical grip on their circumstances, the characters still feel her imposing presence. At every level, this performance is interesting and strangely atmospheric. Even the scene breaks keep you enraptured.
That sense of curiosity permeates through the play. “Mercury” messes with time in space in ways that most plays do not. There’s mass amounts of blood, and it’s funny in ways a thriller usually is not. To put it plainly, “Mercury” is odd, but that’s what makes it so special. At the center of a deeply strange play, you have a beautiful, character driven exploration of vengeance. In the confusion, and perhaps revulsion from the bear intestines, you find clarity. It is a testament to the CWRU Theater Department’s skill and commitment to true art that “Mercury” worked as well as it does.