This review was written by a TeenTix KC teen who is learning about arts journalism through the Press Corps, which provides teens with training and tools to respond to their arts experiences. TeenTix KC seeks to engage teens in the arts and amplify their voices. This may be the first time this teen has publicly expressed their opinion about an arts experience. Thank you for reading and supporting this teen’s development as an arts journalist.
Red Like Fruit is an introspective play that directly questions the nature of memory and consent, especially in an era directly following the #MeToo movement. Written by playwright Hannah Moscovitch, Red Like Fruit features a cast of only two characters, Lauren and Luke, and their exploration of Lauren’s memories and her childhood experiences of varying types of sexual assault. All of Lauren’s life experiences are delivered by Luke in a third-person narrative. As he reads from Lauren’s own notebooks, he begins to wonder why Lauren asked him to read her story in the first place.
When you take your seat in the Unicorn Theatre, you immediately have an idea about the play you are going to see. The more intimate seating really lends itself to this type of show. Red Like Fruit, at its core, is a very introspective work that benefits from a small house. Not to say that it isn’t worthy of a larger stage, but Red Like Fruit is the type of play that seems to fit so well with the smaller venue you find at The Unicorn. Luke, played by Tyler Lindquist, is the main speaker of the performance, and during his monologues he makes very intentional eye contact with members of the audience. With that in mind, The Unicorn seems like the perfect theatre for Red Like Fruit, as it allows the actors to be incredibly close to the audience, and speak directly to them.
The play itself is very minimalistic in terms of technical elements. The set is sparse, with a half-raised stage and limited furniture, such as a table and a few chairs. The lighting, crafted by the lighting designer Sally Farrand, is very simple, with the stage being fully lit for most of the production. However, there are a few instances where the light is dimmed, especially in later scenes as the story progresses into darker themes. The lowering brightness of the lights gives a sense of claustrophobia that I appreciated immensely. The deeper nature of certain scenes is clearly reflected in the lighting, giving visual cues to the audience for when the story is about to take a darker turn. This is incredibly crucial in a play such as this, where the narrative can shift from lighthearted childhood nostalgia to the horrific realities of childhood sexual assault.
During these somber scenes, strange sounds also play in the background. The sound of it is almost reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard, but much softer and less jarringly aggressive. Rather, the sound has a quieter presence that looms over you as it plays. It carries a foreboding weight to it, and fills the silent stretches between pieces of the narration. Accompanying these sounds are abstract projections that are draped across the curtains. They don’t appear to depict any specific subject, at least from what I could see. The abstractness of the shapes feels intentional, allowing for audience members to make their own conclusions on what the lines are meant to be. To me, it seemed reminiscent of cracks in glass. No matter what conclusion you make, the projections and sound combined create a truly one-of-a-kind atmosphere for the scenes they feature in.
A specific scene that stood out to me as I was watching was a scene near the end, as the narrative truly starts to get into the harsher, more horrifying truths of Lauren’s childhood. As the scene draws to a close, Lauren starts to come to terms with what happened to her and realizes the assault she experienced was not an expectation of growing up. The dialogue, although being a major component of the scene, was not what I found to be the most prominent aspect of this scene. Rather, what really stuck with me was the action of Lauren, played by Elise Peohling, closing one of the drawers embedded in the raised stage. The drawer had been filled with props from the scene, all of which Lauren had used while the specific segment of the story was being told. It being closed, in a very metaphorical sense, felt very much like Lauren accepting what happened. It didn’t feel like she was bottling it up or repressing it, but rather accepting it and beginning to move on.
Red Like Fruit is a visceral play that will make your stomach drop with the sheer emotion of it. The technical elements, although simplistic, serve their purpose well and set the tone for the play itself. The two actors fill their roles exceptionally well. Both are talented and well-suited for this play. Red Like Fruit is certainly not a lighthearted play, but its story is a crucial one that portrays the true weight that the past and memories carry.
Reviewed by TeenTix KC Press Corps member Mia Carpenter
TeenTix KC is a KC Studio initiative building a brighter future for our region by empowering young people to take an active role in shaping their arts community as audience members, critics, influencers, advocates, patrons and leaders. Any 13-19 year-old can become a TeenTix KC member by downloading a free pass which enables them to buy $5 tickets to participating arts venues across metro KC. Teens are encouraged to become critics and influencers by writing reviews and creating reels about the arts they experience using their TeenTix KC passes.
