In plays that feature women protagonists, the experience of feeling trapped is a recurring theme, whether characters are hemmed in by marriage, motherhood, gender roles, race, economic status or any number of societal norms. Cuban American playwright Nilo Cruz (the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of “Anna in the Tropics”) makes this conceit quite literal in his 1998 play “Two Sisters and a Piano,” now onstage at Writers Theatre under the direction of Lisa Portes. The titular siblings, Maria Celia (Andrea San Miguel) and Sofia (Neysha Mendoza Castro), are living under house arrest for speaking out against Fidel Castro’s regime in the early 1990s, and the crumbling walls confining them to their seaside colonial house are constant visual reminders of their lack of freedom.
Light on plot but lush in atmosphere, this sometimes mesmerizing, sometimes frustrating play examines how these two artistic souls — Maria Celia is a writer, Sofia a pianist — endure their captivity. They fantasize about the foods they can’t get due to nationwide rationing, imagine what their neighbors on the other side of the wall are up to, revisit favorite melodies and desperately hope for news from Maria Celia’s husband, who is living abroad and trying to obtain political asylum for them. Twelve years her sister’s junior, 24-year-old Sofia is overtly romantic and somewhat naïve (if this were a Jane Austen novel, she would be Marianne Dashwood), while Maria Celia’s deep feelings tend to reside further under the surface.
In their isolated state, any visitor takes on outsize significance for these women. The handsome Lieutenant Portuondo (Adam Poss) regularly stops by for inspections as part of his military duties, but his growing attraction to Maria Celia soon leads to more informal encounters. As for Sofia, she latches on to the affable piano tuner, Victor Manuel (Arash Fakhrabadi), who comes to fix her beloved instrument, which was sorely neglected while the sisters served a prison sentence before their house arrest. (The play’s premise is loosely based on the imprisonment of Cuban writer and activist Maria Elena Cruz Varela.)
Writers Theatre bills this production with the tagline, “Bound by politics, freed by love and music,” but this characterization oversimplifies the frankly slimy power dynamics at play in Maria Celia’s relationship with the lieutenant. Early on, Portuondo confirms Maria Celia’s suspicion that the regime has been censoring and withholding much of her correspondence from loved ones. Claiming to enjoy her fictional writing, the officer strikes a deal: if she narrates to him the new story she’s working on, he will deliver portions of her husband’s letters — not by physically giving them to her, but by reading aloud the intimate love notes in her presence. Yikes.
As things heat up between Maria Celia and the lieutenant (with intense intimacy direction by Greg Geffrard), it’s hard to interpret their connection as anything more than a case of Stockholm syndrome, despite the undeniable chemistry between San Miguel and Poss. His mind games and her loneliness combine for a heady cocktail of desire and mistrust, a messy situation that feels very human but is deeply uncomfortable to watch. Certainly, this is no fairy-tale romance.
The secondary characters of Sofia and Victor Manuel provide an illuminating contrast to the older pair. In some ways, they handle the perilous political situation more carefully than Maria Celia and Portuondo, yet Sofia’s impulsiveness eventually threatens the safety of both sisters. Perhaps the point is that there’s no perfect way to handle oneself in an oppressive environment; most people just do their best to survive and find some meaning in their daily lives.
In a letter to her husband, Maria Celia writes that she is “rotting and decaying in this house,” and Brian Sidney Bembridge’s set design complements her internal state with hints of fraying grandeur and iron-latticed windows that form elegant prison bars as the sisters gaze out to sea. The sound design by Andre Pluess juxtaposes nostalgic piano music with violent sound effects, while Jason Lynch’s lighting design often evokes a dreamlike quality. Costume designer Izumi Inaba clothes Sofia in a largely white palette, emphasizing her youthfulness, while Maria Celia’s red and navy dresses nod to the colors of the Cuban flag.
While this is a fine production of an early work by a celebrated playwright, I was hoping for further exploration of the role of art under oppressive systems, given the musical reference in the title and the fact that the play was inspired by a revolutionary writer. Instead, “Two Sisters and a Piano” focuses on a problematic romantic relationship, one that left a bitter taste for me.
Emily McClanathan is a freelance critic.
Review: “Two Sisters and a Piano” (2.5 stars)
When: Through March 29
Where: Writers Theatre, 325 Tudor Court, Glencoe
Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes
Tickets: $35-$95 at 847-242-6000 and writerstheatre.org
