<body><div><figure><img src="https://img.particlenews.com/image.php?type=thumbnail_580x000&amp;url=46uQeR_0wFcJMW700" alt="https://img.particlenews.com/image.php?url=46uQeR_0wFcJMW700" width="1000" height="665" ><figcaption>Courtesy of Seattle Public Theater.</figcaption></figure>It was a beautifully dark evening until it wasn’t, as crowds around Green Lake folded into existence with lanterns in hand, pushing toward the water’s surface in a grand tide of wishes. Golden light shone through the deep fall shadows like stars on a mirror dark sky. It was beautiful and deeply human, but not the reason I was there. I am drawn to things that are human to the point of breaking and nothing quite captures that feeling like theater. I confess, dear reader, that I’m back on that theater kid grind in my final year of my bachelor’s degree, finding time between rehearsals to make my way once again to Seattle Public Theater. Once I was able to weave my way through the crowds of the Water Lantern Festival into my seat for the second night of the world premiere of “The Park” by Jenn Ruzumna and Lisa Every, I found myself surrounded for the next 90 minutes by another kind of aching humanity. “The Park” is a product of the early pandemic, a fact I could’ve told you without reading the playbill, as the desperation of that period of our lives rolls off each scene in waves. As a fellow pandemic playwright (don’t ask, that script will never see the light of day), I get it. The isolation of quarantine bleeds into the script, despite the fact that none of the characters are alone. Ruzumna and Every ask the question over and over and over again: where will we be when things have changed? The answer is a tree in a park as the seasons shift and shift and shift some more. “The Park” operates in vignettes as time passes and new characters come to find solace or simply a place for soliloquy under the tree, all under the watchful eye of the spirits of the main characters, Libby and Bev who were played by Ruzumna and Every respectively. The rest of the ensemble fills out the running time with a series of cries to God or the universe or something that will listen, sharing tales of isolation and climate disaster and the perils of motherhood.In particular, I found myself enraptured by Meg McLynn’s portrayal of a spiral about motherhood, when I was otherwise drifting in the plot. I was already familiar with her work, as my introduction to the Seattle Public Theater featured her as Lady Macbeth in “Macbeth: A Rock Musical” in a similar state of unraveling. Something about the desperation to be seen as a person and not just a mistake touched me at my core. She also completely stole the show along with Alba Davenport as the dogs Tunia and Archie. It’s worth it to go just to see their interpretation of the very good (real) dogs that run across the stage in scene one. I also found myself drawn to Ryan Sander’s performance as Albert, an aged husband of a woman dealing with mental illness. Even days after the show, I’ve found myself sitting with his declaration to “let things be until they pass” and to know that everything has a season: the good, the bad, and the in-between. I think these two performances found the root of the show where other moments grasped at them.While not typically my cup of tea in terms of convention, “The Park” still had plenty to offer. I found myself eagerly awaiting the moment when I could tell my best friend some of the sillier quips between Libby and Bev, joking about how we’ll one day be them, old and sharing lunches on a park bench. The use of apples as an aid in the theming of being afraid to change sparked me to get one the next day in honor. The character Blair holding up an Octavia E. Butler book at one point had me searching to see which one it was based off the cover when I got home. I believe it was Fledgeling, but bonus points to any reader who goes to the show and can let me know for sure.The point is this. As the Water Lantern Festival filled the park outside the theater with people writing down their hopes and dreams and sending them to the water, “The Park” cried out in a similar way to connect to other people. It was human and aching and worth the sheer amount of money they must have spent on the dozens of apples featured in the show.If you’ll allow me to be cheesy for a minute, it warms my heart to see new works like this taken so lovingly to the stage. Theater in general is harder and more emotionally taxing than most people give it credit for, so staging something as raw as this show is definitely worth something. My final thoughts in rapid, random succession as always: if you’re feeling peckish, sit on the left aisle, watch the projections fully because they’re quite fun, and keep an eye on the area downstage by the right aisle for my favorite set piece. “The Park” runs until Nov. 3, tickets can be found here. Reach writer Lark Peterson at arts@dailyuw.com. Like what you’re reading? Support high-quality student journalism by donating here.</div></body>

Mountain View, CA

NewsBreak

Everything has its season: a review of Seattle Public Theater’s ‘The Park’

It was a beautifully dark evening until it wasn’t, as crowds around Green Lake folded into existence with lanterns in hand, pushing toward the water’s surface in a grand tide of wishes. Golden light shone through the deep fall shadows like stars on a mirror dark sky. It was beautiful and deeply human, but not the reason I was there.