“What happens to the living when all our hopes and dreams are reserved for the afterlife?” It’s a question that has been mulled over, in one way or another, since the beginning of modern religion. And it emerges again as the guiding question in Amm(i)gone, a new play created and performed by Adil Mansoor and running at Woolly Mammoth through May 12.
Born in Pakistan and reared in Chicago, Mansoor straddles a number of unique, and sometimes divergent, identities. Perhaps none have been more detrimental to his relationship with his mother, who has become an increasingly devout Muslim over time, than those of “queer person” and “theater practitioner.” Amm(i)gone finds Mansoor attempting to build understanding across those identities by inviting his mother to help him create a new translation of Sophocles’ Antigone in their native Urdu. Working through the play’s questions of family and faith (Antigone faced death for defying an edict prohibiting a holy burial for her disgraced brother), Mansoor develops a deeper understanding of his mother and struggles to square his dreams with the inevitabilities of their evolving relationship.
Amm(i)gone (a made-up word combining the Urdu word for mother—“ammi”—and Antigone) is an astonishingly vulnerable endeavor for Mansoor. Delving at times into feelings of elation, nostalgia, mournfulness, and embarrassment, it is functionally a confession: Mansoor wishes that his mother would accept all facets of his identity wholeheartedly, but understands that asking her to do so is to ask for an abandonment of her faith. All the while, his mother prays daily that he will return Islam so his eternal soul may be saved. The conundrum he faces is one that so many queer people have faced; one that spans faith traditions and origins. But in articulating the challenge so succinctly, Mansoor is able to achieve both intellectual and emotional empathy on a deeper level.
On the whole, Amm(i)gone is remarkably succinct. It’s obvious that Mansoor, who is also a professional director, thinks in terms of structure and the play is reflective of such dramaturgical attention. Taking an academic approach from the start, he quotes linguists and translators (and, yes, Judith Butler) about the challenges of reinterpreting work. There are clear “scenes,” each demarcated by movement, the incorporation of multimedia elements and/or content shifts.
But in that careful structuring lies some trouble. Amm(i)gone struggles to shake off its presentational air, landing as something more akin to a TED Talk than the kind of one-person dramatic narratives Woolly has seen in recent years (including Alex Edelman’s Just for Us and Ryan Haddad’s Hi, Are You Single?). Employing an academic bent from the start (complete with what is essentially an overhead projector that pre-SmartBoard students will remember well), when Mansoor moves into baring his soul, the tonal shift catches the audience off guard. To be clear, there is nothing remotely phony about Mansoor’s text or delivery. And the academic approach that reflects his strong theatrical training (he has a master’s in directing from Carnegie Mellon, one of the country’s most well-regarded drama schools) and the emotional reactions that are central to his relationship with his mother are both key parts of his sense of self. But Amm(i)gone hasn’t yet developed the proper connective tissue to bridge the respective tones in a way that facilitates a stronger emotional response for audiences beyond sympathy.
Mansoor and co-director Lyam B. Gabel’s production benefits tremendously from a sleek, attractive design. In both the lighting and set, Xotchil Musser creates a beautiful space for Mansoor to move through. One-person shows can often leave their performer appearing stranded in emptiness onstage, but Musser offers several distinct playing areas for Mansoor to maneuver. They employ beautifully ornate carved wood panels and boxes of varying sizes, adding visual depth and enriching the cultural intricacies that influence Mansoor’s relationship with his mother. Their soft lighting design, which eventually comes to illuminate the smaller wood boxes around the stage and audience, is warmly inviting and intimate.
The production relies heavily, and to great effect, on video and projection (co-designed by Joseph Amodei and Davine Byon, with assistance from sound designer Aaron Landgraf). In several sequences, Mansoor shows photos from his childhood (with the portions that depict his mother covered or embroidered out of respect for modesty customs) or scrolls of transcripts that sync with recorded conversations. Not only do these multimedia moments break up the narrative and foster continued audience engagement, but they also facilitate a realistic illustration of Mansoor’s dynamic with his mother. They give voice to a woman we do not see, allowing the audience to connect with her more effectively.
They also provide a more developed sense of who Mansoor is when he is not onstage. In these recorded conversations, he is more casual, even if nervous. Without the confines of a script, blocking, and technical cues, he becomes all the more relatable and engaging. But while these clips augment the emotional development of the story and undeniably add production value, they also unintentionally amplify some of the stiffness in Mansoor’s live narrative sequences. Perhaps that stiffness will soften with time (this particular production is embarking on a tour, with a stop at Connecticut’s Long Wharf Theatre later this month), but it’s a reminder of the paradoxical pitfall of shows like this: sometimes the hardest role to play is yourself.
Regardless, Amm(i)gone is a great reminder of the challenges that still exist for queer people on individual scales. While news media typically focus on the community-wide consequences of legislation or violence, queer people are often left to navigate complex instances of homophobia and transphobia in their families on their own. Amm(i)gone is a touching distillation of Mansoor’s experience, but in the face of rejection and misunderstanding, his approach is decidedly constructive, guided by tremendous love for his mother and the courage of his convictions. As the onset of Pride Month inches closer each day, Mansoor’s message is a welcome harbinger.
Amm(i)gone, created and performed by Adil Mansoor and co-directed by Lyam B. Gabel, runs through May 12 at Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company. woollymammoth.net. $25–$82.