Rehearsing the End
Washburn’s Theatre of Collapse and Continuity
Reza Shirmarz
Anne Washburn is a celebrated playwright known for her innovative and thought-provoking works. She graduated from Reed College and earned an M.F.A. from New York University. Her plays have been widely produced in prestigious venues across New York City, including Cherry Lane Theatre, Soho Repertory Theatre, and Vineyard Theatre, as well as nationally at American Repertory Theater, Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company, and Studio Theatre, and internationally at London's Gate Theatre and Almeida Theatre. Washburn's 2012 play, Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play, received a Drama League Award nomination and was lauded by The New York Times as "downright brilliant." Her other notable works include A Devil at Noon, featured at the 2011 Humana Festival, and Sleep Rock Thy Brain (2013), co-written with Rinne Groff and Lucas Hnath. In 2015, her play 10 Out of 12 debuted at Soho Rep, which has solidified her reputation as a bold voice in contemporary theater. A member of 13P and an associated artist with The Civilians and New Georges, Washburn is also an alumna of New Dramatists. Her work has been published in American Theatre magazine. She has received numerous accolades, including a Guggenheim Fellowship (2007), a Whiting Award (2015), the PEN/Laura Pels Theater Award for American Playwright in Mid-Career (2015), and the Herb Alpert Award in the Arts in Theatre (2016).
Her plays span a diverse range of themes and styles, including Shipwreck (2019), Antlia Pneumatica (2016), The Twilight Zone (2017), and transadaptations of Euripides' Iphigenia in Aulis (2015) and Orestes (2010). Earlier works include The Internationalist (2004), Apparition (2003), and The Communist Dracula Pageant (2001) which remind us of her versatility and enduring impact on the theatrical world.
I Have Loved Strangers
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| I have Loved Strangers, directed by Johanna McKeon, Clubbed Thumb (2006) |
Anne Washburn’s I Have Loved Strangers intertwines Biblical prophecy, modern anxieties, and interpersonal drama within a surreal world where ancient and contemporary converge. Drawing on the Book of Jeremiah, the play juxtaposes fiery visions of societal collapse with the mundane struggles of daily life and manages to create a narrative that speaks to the timelessness of humanity’s existential crises. The play examines the enduring relevance of prophecy as a tool for societal introspection and uses the prophet Jeremiah’s warnings of divine retribution to reflect contemporary fears of collapse. Jeremiah’s apocalyptic visions resonate with modern anxieties surrounding climate change, political corruption, and social injustice which definitely frame the play as a mirror for contemporary society’s moral failings. Washburn enriches the narrative by drawing a parallel to the Weather Underground, a radical 20th-century organization that sought to dismantle oppressive systems. By equating prophets with revolutionaries, the play underscores the precarious position of those who challenge societal norms. Their calls for change, whether ancient or modern, often face resistance and skepticism, a testament to humanity’s reluctance to confront uncomfortable truths. Washburn employs a nonlinear structure and crafts a fragmented narrative that alternates between direct prophecies, casual street conversations, and intimate character interactions. This disjointed approach mirrors the chaotic and unpredictable nature of prophecy as well as reflects a city and society teetering on the brink. The setting of “Ancient New York,” a surreal fusion of a modern metropolis with biblical undertones, heightens the play’s timeless quality.
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| I have Loved Strangers, directed by Johanna McKeon, Clubbed Thumb (2006) |
The language oscillates between the poetic and the mundane. The prophets, particularly Jeremiah, deliver their warnings in an elevated, rhythmic diction reminiscent of the Old Testament. This starkly contrasts with the contemporary vernacular of other characters, and thus creates a tension between the sacred and the secular. Washburn’s use of this linguistic dichotomy reinforces the play’s exploration of faith, skepticism, and the struggle to find meaning in a fragmented world. Washburn’s characters embody diverse perspectives on faith, identity, and societal responsibility. This offers a multifaceted exploration of humanity’s response to crisis. Jeremiah echoes his biblical counterpart in his fiery denunciations of moral decay and his relentless warnings of impending doom. Washburn portrays him as both divinely inspired and deeply human, grappling with isolation, exhaustion, and the emotional toll of his mission. His unwavering commitment to truth-telling makes him a tragic figure, embodying the loneliness of those burdened with foresight. As a counterpoint to Jeremiah, Hananiah offers a more hopeful vision, and emphasizes resilience and the possibility of redemption. His optimism, however, is tempered by his personal struggles, particularly his relationship with his wife, Ruthie. Hananiah’s dual role as prophet and husband underscores the tension between divine duty and human vulnerability. The Non-Prophet’s refusal to embrace prophecy positions him as a skeptical, grounded foil to Jeremiah and Hananiah. His cynicism reflects the freedom and challenges of secular life as well as raises existential questions about agency, belief, and the burden of knowing. By choosing a life unbound by divine intervention, the Non-Prophet highlights the human capacity to navigate crisis without reliance on higher powers.
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| I have Loved Strangers, directed by Johanna McKeon, Clubbed Thumb (2006) |
Ruthie serves as a pragmatic voice. She embodies the toll of prophetic life on personal relationships. Her growing skepticism and eventual departure represent a rebellion against blind faith and an assertion of individual agency. Ruthie’s journey reflects the struggle between loyalty and self-preservation, and makes her one of the play’s most emotionally resonant characters. Emily and PT introduce a layer of unpredictability and fluidity. Emily’s shifting identities symbolize the need for reinvention in a destabilized world, while PT’s spontaneity underscores the chaos inherent in human existence. Together, they challenge the prophets’ pursuit of order, and highlight the complexity and adaptability required to navigate modern crises. Washburn’s use of dramatic devices and symbolism enriches the play’s exploration of prophecy and societal decay. The setting of “Ancient New York” acts as both a tangible and symbolic backdrop, merging the decay of a modern metropolis with the timeless struggles of biblical Jerusalem. This setting underscores the universality of the play’s themes. It suggests that humanity’s challenges transcend time and place. The incorporation of urban sounds, subway rumbles, street noise, and faint conversations, creates a sense of familiarity while emphasizing the characters’ alienation. These sounds serve as a constant reminder of the world’s indifference to prophetic warnings.
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| I have Loved Strangers, directed by Johanna McKeon, Clubbed Thumb (2006) |
Overall, through its intricate storytelling and deeply human themes, I Have Loved Strangers stands as both a cautionary tale and a testament to the enduring power of prophetic voices. Washburn leaves audiences with a pressing question: will humanity ever learn to embrace uncomfortable truths before it is too late?
Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play
A narrative’s evolution through time reflects the transformation of cultural memory. It showcases the interplay between survival, identity, and myth. Through an exploration of the progression of storytelling after societal collapse, this study investigates how popular media can transcend its original purpose as becoming a cornerstone of collective identity and spiritual meaning. Employing a tripartite structure spanning decades, the subject under analysis reveals a compelling commentary on memory’s fluidity, the adaptability of art, and the indelible impact of popular culture. This analysis delves into the mechanisms through which narrative fragments persist, adapt, and solidify into cultural artifacts. The persistence and transformation of memory serve as the bedrock of human civilization, particularly in the aftermath of systemic collapse. When societies face the disintegration of infrastructure, governance, and communication, storytelling becomes a mechanism for survival and reconstruction. This phenomenon is explored through a narrative that evolves over three temporally distinct acts, and examines how fragments of a cultural artifact from an entertainment medium shift from recollection to ritual and, ultimately, mythology. The narrative structure provides a blueprint for understanding the mechanisms of cultural adaptation over time. Each act delineates a distinct phase of memory preservation and transformation.
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| Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play, The ACT Theatre production (2015) |
Shortly after a catastrophic event, survivors recall and reconstruct a fragment of popular media. The act of re-enactment fosters communal bonds and provides psychological relief amid the trauma. The recollections are characterized by imperfection, as memory falters under the strain of loss and disorientation. The process of storytelling becomes a therapeutic act, and emphasizes continuity and identity through humor and shared recognition. Years later, these recollections evolve into a more formalized tradition. A theatrical troupe emerges, refining and performing these narratives for barter and sustenance. This stage introduces the commercialization of nostalgia. It reflects how art and memory become economic and social pillars. The process highlights the tensions between authenticity and adaptation as new iterations emerge, reshaped by societal needs. Decades later, the cultural artifact achieves the status of a foundational myth. Ritualized performances transform the narrative into an epic allegory. The characters are no longer tied to their origins but have become symbols embodying moral and existential questions. The transformation of a comedic television episode into a sacred narrative demonstrates the mutability of cultural memory and the human propensity to sacralize the mundane.
The progression from immediate recollection to mythology highlights memory’s fluidity. Over time, fragments of the original narrative are embellished, distorted, and reinterpreted to fit new cultural contexts. This transformation illustrates how memory serves as both a vessel for preserving history and a canvas for projecting contemporary values. Storytelling emerges as a central tool for social and psychological reconstruction. Beyond entertainment, narratives provide frameworks for morality, continuity, and collective identity. As survivors rebuild their lives, the act of storytelling offers a sense of agency and cohesion as well as emphasizes the communal need for shared narratives. The choice of a widely recognized artifact from popular media underscores its potential as a cultural touchstone. This analysis reveals how even ostensibly trivial narratives can fulfill roles traditionally occupied by ancient myths, which highlights in turn the adaptability of storytelling in meeting existential needs.
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| Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play, The ACT Theatre production (2015) |
The narrative employs meta-theatrical elements to interrogate the act of storytelling itself. Characters critique and refine their performances, and offer a commentary on the nature of art as a collaborative and iterative process. This reflexivity blurs the boundaries between audience and performer while inviting reflection on the process of cultural memory-making. The staging choices underscore the interplay between resource scarcity and creativity. Non-electric sources of light, such as fire and candles, create a hauntingly authentic atmosphere. The gradual reintroduction of electric lighting symbolizes societal recovery and the rekindling of cultural complexity. Musical compositions transition from simple recollections to grand operatic expressions. It mirrors the narrative’s transformation. It also conveys the emotional and symbolic depth of the story, and bridges the gaps between memory and myth. The fragility of civilization juxtaposed with the resilience of storytelling illustrates the enduring importance of memory. Even as infrastructure collapses, the need to remember persists, and, therefore, reshapes fragments of the past into functional narratives for the present. The economy of remembered lines raises questions about the ethics of narrative ownership. The commodification of memory reflects broader tensions between collective and individual rights to cultural artifacts. The adaptability of popular culture narratives suggests that shared media can transcend its original context to become a foundation for communal identity. This underscores the potential for cultural artifacts to unify disparate groups in the aftermath of disruption.
In a nutshell, the evolution of narrative fragments from memory to myth reveals the transformative power of storytelling. As this analysis demonstrates, narratives are not static artifacts but dynamic processes shaped by cultural, economic, and existential pressures. Through its layered examination of memory, identity, and art, this study offers a meditation on the resilience of culture and the capacity of humanity to rebuild meaning in even the most fractured societies. By elevating a fragment of popular culture into myth, it highlights the profound adaptability of storytelling as both a survival tool and a spiritual anchor.
10 Out of 12
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| 10 out of 12, directed by Les Waters, (2015) |
Key to the work’s structural innovation is its use of technology, particularly the audience’s headsets. By immersing the audience in the auditory chaos of backstage communication, including the private conversations of stage managers, designers, and technicians, Washburn blurs the boundary between onstage performance and offstage labor. This auditory layering invites the audience to become active participants, attuned to both the visible and invisible aspects of theater-making. Washburn’s script highlights the painstaking labor behind theatrical productions. From technical glitches to creative disagreements, the work captures the relentless pursuit of artistic perfection. The title’s reference to the maximum hours allowed in a single rehearsal day underscores the physical and emotional toll of this process. As the Director laments over a glaring exit sign disrupting his “theatrical bliss,” the audience glimpses the obsessive attention to detail that defines this craft. Through moments of frustration and triumph, the play celebrates the craft of theater as both an art and a labor-intensive discipline.
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| 10 out of 12, directed by Les Waters, (2015) |
Washburn’s ensemble cast reflects the collective nature of theater-making. Characters range from meticulous stage managers to quirky actors, each navigating their unique challenges. This lack of a central protagonist mirrors the egalitarian ideal of collaborative art, where every role contributes to the whole. The hierarchical relationships within the rehearsal process highlight varying degrees of agency. Directors and designers dictate the artistic vision, while actors, often the public face of the production, contend with vulnerabilities such as unclear cues or dim lighting. These dynamics underscore the interdependence of the theater’s visible and invisible participants. The play captures the emotional toll of creative labor, as characters oscillate between professional focus and personal frustrations. Moments of vulnerability—such as an actor’s struggle to find meaning in a scene or a stage manager’s quiet exhaustion—humanize the labor behind the art. “Do you know what it was like? It was like that Edgar Allan Poe story,” Eva recounts, her frustration boiling over as she recalls stumbling in the dark. These moments blend humor and poignancy, reflecting the humanity underpinning the theatrical process.
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| 10 out of 12, directed by Les Waters, (2015) |
One of the most striking features is the use of headset dialogue. By allowing the audience to hear private conversations, Washburn creates a layered soundscape that immerses viewers in the rehearsal’s auditory chaos. This device not only enhances realism but also elevates often-overlooked technical labor to the forefront. The realistic set design, cluttered with debris, coffee cups, and tools, contrasts with the surreal elements of the fictional production being rehearsed. This juxtaposition highlights the dual realities of theater as both a constructed artifice and a lived experience. By foregrounding the work of stage managers, technicians, and designers, Washburn addresses the undervaluation of behind-the-scenes labor in the arts. The play aligns with broader societal conversations about invisible labor and its essential contributions. The characters’ debates about lighting, sound, and blocking mirror existential questions about purpose and meaning. This search for significance underscores the human drive to create and connect, even amidst imperfection.
Through its unconventional structure and form, the work challenges traditional theater while honoring its collaborative roots. It critiques conventional expectations of linear storytelling and advocates instead for a theater that embraces complexity and innovation. As the Director muses, “Would that we all had a glary light to let us know when we’ve gone too far,” Washburn’s work reveals the ever-present tension between ambition and limitation. This piece is a masterful exploration of the theater-making process, celebrating its labor, chaos, and artistry. By focusing on a technical rehearsal rather than a polished production, the play demystifies the illusion of theater while affirming its collective and imperfect beauty. Through its humor, poignancy, and experimental form, the work stands as a tribute to the collaborative endeavor that is live theater.
The Small: A Brief Play About the End
Anne Washburn’s play The Small: A Brief Play About the End offers a surreal, fragmented meditation on humanity’s preoccupation with endings, existential anxiety, and the quest for meaning in the face of impermanence. Through its episodic narrative structure, poetic language, and interplay between the mundane and fantastical, the play examines the human condition, its fears, desires, and persistent search for connection amidst chaos. Washburn's dramaturgy invites both philosophical contemplation and emotional resonance, achieved through her integration of disjointed dialogues and surreal imagery. The fragmented structure mirrors the characters’ inner turmoil and the instability of their environment. Washburn employs an episodic format wherein scenes often lack clear resolution, seamlessly transitioning into surreal, dreamlike sequences. For instance, a character’s apocalyptic musings juxtaposed with a mundane conversation about spelt flour exemplify the refusal to adhere to traditional linearity: "As long as someone, somewhere, is thinking about the ending of the world, it won’t. There’s a gap, there must be gaps…and in that moment, it occurs." The interplay between cosmic despair and everyday concerns destabilizes the audience’s perception of reality and aligns with the thematic uncertainties surrounding time and closure. Washburn’s use of overlapping dialogue, silences, and surreal transitions reinforces the chaotic thought patterns and fragmented perceptions of her characters.
Central to the work is the theme of endings, the end of relationships, personal endeavors, and potentially the world itself. Monologues articulate this anxiety, blending poetic imagery with philosophical undertones: "We will see crazy colors. Colors will break open and there will be new colors inside of them. We will see animals from other planets. And hear new music…Our minds are gonna boggle, and then they’ll end." This apocalyptic vision reflects humanity’s simultaneous dread and fascination with finality. The preoccupation with endings extends to more mundane concerns, where complaints about grocery inventory betray a deeper fear of change and loss: "I’ve just developed a set of expectations about your stock…I don’t need things to be perfect; I just need them to be roughly what they were when we made this commitment to each other, me and your store." The interplay between cosmic despair and mundane disappointment underscores the futility of attempting to control impermanence.
Characters are often trapped by nostalgia, longing for a stability that remains elusive. A fixation on a beloved dog becomes a poignant symbol of yearning for unconditional love and constancy in a fractured world. A former partner embodies unresolved regret and disillusionment, as seen in their confrontation: "You left me and married another person. I think it behooves you to be gracious." or "I did want a wedding. Very much so. But wanting a wedding and wanting to actually marry you are not two entirely separate entities." These dialogues expose the tension between idealized memories and the imperfect reality of relationships as well as highlight the emotional cost of clinging to the past.
Another character’s quiet reflections emphasize the weight of incremental loss: "I feel like I’m losing a lot of little things right now. It’s hard. You can’t throw everything over for a small sorrow…but it’s a burden on your day, nonetheless." Washburn captures the pervasive melancholy of everyday existence, where even minor losses accumulate into profound emotional burdens. She masterfully intertwines the ordinary with the extraordinary, creating moments where the banal assumes mythic significance. The recurring motif of elvish princesses, apocalyptic imagery, and choral odes elevate the mundane into the realm of the fantastical. For instance, an elf blesses a sword amidst surreal chanting and torchlight, only to hand over a package of spelt flour moments later. This blending of myth and reality reflects attempts to reconcile daily struggles with existential fears.
Another striking instance occurs during the burial of a small creature. A debate about its placement underscores the tension between practicality and symbolic meaning: "I wonder about a little closer to the garden…Just so. You know, on the beans end. This dialogue elevates a mundane act into a moment of existential significance and reflects humanity’s need to find meaning even in trivial rituals.
Several recurring motifs enrich the thematic complexity. A beloved dog symbolizes loyalty and constancy amidst human frailty. Choral odes that deify her presence contrast sharply with the characters’ inconsistencies and failures, maximize the gap between idealized and lived experiences. The grocery store, another prominent motif, represents the fragility of human expectations. Repeated disappointments with its inventory mirror broader feelings of betrayal by life’s unpredictability.
Fantasy elements, including elvish visions and apocalyptic prophecies, serve as metaphors for the characters’ inner lives. These surreal moments blur the line between reality and imagination and remind us that human existence is inseparable from the myths we construct to make sense of our world.
Washburn’s work is a richly layered exploration of humanity’s confrontation with impermanence. Through its fragmented structure and juxtaposition of the mundane with the mythic, the narrative is both deeply personal and universally resonant. It reveals that the end of the world is not a distant cataclysm but a constant presence in our daily lives, embedded in every moment of loss, change, and transformation. By inviting the audience to navigate these tensions, Washburn compels reflection on the beauty and absurdity of existence itself.
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