Oleanna david mamet artist note: Sarah Wilson Nearly everyone I’ve spoken to has had the same reaction when I’ve said I’m doing Oleanna. Their eyebrows shoot way up high and they say, “Oh”, except it takes a lot longer to say than it normally does. I said the same thing when I got the offer (followed quickly, of course, with “Yes!”). It’s an appropriate reaction – a loaded response to a loaded play. I think a friend of mine put it pretty well when she paused and added, “That’s intense.” Writing about Oleanna is difficult without getting into details, since there’s nothing I can say about it that I couldn’t argue the opposite. It’s precise and messy, infuriating and funny. It’s both political and deeply, deeply personal. It’s shocking, brutal and yet, I think, somehow very beautiful. As I write this, we’re just under three weeks into rehearsal, which I often find is an exhilarating time. You’re finding new things you didn’t expect, your head is buzzing with new ideas, you’re trying to let go of the old ones. You’re happy and you’re frustrated. You’re working. In a two-hander like this one the heat is always on, but if ever things start to feel a little too intense, it’s easy to look around the room and count my blessings: Mamet’s amazing script, my copy of which looks like I dropped it in the tub and tried to blowdry it – I didn’t, I swear; lovely, funny Diego; László, who has that rare and beautiful ability to say just the right thing; Nancy and Janet, our design team; making theatre. Really, when I think about it, what else can I say but, “Oh.”?
Sarah Wilson, Carol in Oleanna
photo: sandy nicholson