About three-quarters of the way through Charlotte Corbeil-Coleman’s play Scratch, one of the characters remarks that words don’t necessarily offer truth. This not entirely-offhand comment about language’s honesty becomes illuminating in light of the fact that Scratch, while not entirely autobiographical, is based on real events in Corbeil-Coleman’s life. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely intentional.
Scratch is about the loss of a mother, or rather, everything surrounding the loss of a parent. Composed of a mix of dialogue and monologue, the writing is fascinating and, at times, very moving in its candor. Heavily self-reflexive, the action vacillates between naturalism and (eventually tiresome) fourth wall-busting. Anna, the focalizing character played by the author, owns the story but refuses to take responsibility for its telling. By focusing on the lice she can’t get rid of, Anna allows the other figures in her life to step in and reveal facets of the tale while she sinks into her own itchy world.
Corbeil-Coleman’s well-written script delves bravely into material that feels almost too personal. The audience is thrust into a voyeuristic position, often with positive results. ahdri zhina mandiela’s direction lays emphasis on the theme of circularity within what can be known and trusted, keeping the performers observing the action from the fringes. Whether “on” or “off,” every character appears to be right on the brink of revelation.
As a performer, Corbeil-Coleman is faced with the task of playing the teenaged Anna—who’s not exactly the most likeable little lady. A selfish but dryly funny girl, Anna appears as someone who has already been through everything she’s going through. From the opening, she scratches her scalp and runs her mouth. Acting impervious to everything around her, this appearance doesn’t differ much from the woman she becomes by the play’s conclusion. Despite the lack of progression, Corbeil-Coleman is brilliant in her emotional sincerity. Her vulnerability as both a writer and actor is impressive. There was not a dry eye in the audience as the house lights rose.
All the nit picking within Scratch is aptly reflected in Kelly Wolf’s minimal design—a set of walls that grow progressively closer together, painted a dull grey with burnished silver shining under the lights.
There is much to praise in Scratch, especially the performances of Catherine Fitch as Anna’s pragmatic aunt, and Monica Dottor as Anna’s wonderfully wrought best friend Madelyn. The boundless pain that Madelyn expresses over the mother’s illness is so palpable that it creates some of the show’s strongest moments. Corbeil-Coleman’s portrayal of Anna shows an emotionally stunted teenager, whereas Dottor reflects the more vulnerable and childlike experience of losing a loved one. The least developed characters are Anna’s parents. We learn that they are artists, but they aren’t even given names—they serve only to accelerate the plot and give Anna something to butt up against.
Scratch constantly reminds us that we are watching a series of interconnecting stories that, despite their cohesion, fail to reproduce the truth. But in attempting to articulate these emotions, there’s hope that the itchy sting of grief will subside.
