★★★✰✰
First Lady Mary Lincoln suffered a tragic life, plagued by grief, adversity, and the destructive stigma towards mental illness of her time. Vilified as a spendthrift, a Confederate spy, a traitor to the South, and an improper woman for her “excessive grief”, her image was tarnished beyond repair.
That is until she seeks the help of renowned photographer Mathew Brady, whose portrait of Abraham Lincoln projected him as a commanding figure of strength and power. Playwright and historian John Ransom Phillips takes us on a surreal journey back in time with Mrs President as Mary Lincoln endeavours to reclaim her narrative, coming to terms with her harrowing past experiences and embracing her own achievements disregarded by a cynical and male chauvinistic society.
The story has different layers and voices. It initially starts with a dialogue between two inanimate objects—the chair and the camera—merely vehicles that aided in the formation of a new voice and image for its sitters. This vague symbol for the play’s narrative intent took a while to hit, coming off as more disorientating than effective.
That confusion persists as the focus constantly fluctuates. From the tense dialogue between Mrs Lincoln and Brady, Mary’s own internal monologue relating her grief-stricken past, to her suddenly conversing with some of Mathew Brady’s other sitters, the play never seems to sit still.
The scenes in and of themselves carry a lot of weight, especially witnessing the dynamic between Brady (Christopher Kelly) and Mrs Lincoln (LeeAnne Hutchison) as subject and artist clash over creative control and vision. There is such strong chemistry between them with Brady’s artistic passion yet emotional indifference to Mary’s experience, allowing for a frank and open depiction of Mary’s traumatic cast.
When she is alone on stage, Hutchison showcases her impressive emotional range with such an intense and devastating picture of a woman overtaken by the death of her children and then her husband. Followed by a haunting expression after witnessing her husband’s assassination it brutally evokes the unspoken anguish and palpable suffering Mary endured during her life. The minimalist staging accentuates the raw emotion fitting for the introspective nature of the play.
However, these scenes don’t flow easily from one to the other. Moments between Brady’s other sitters and Mary disrupt the play’s pacing and the characters are so fleeting that the confrontations fail to leave any substantial impact. By contrast, some of the transitions feel overly prolonged: for instance, when a character is merely putting on a dress or putting on a shawl, it is difficult to ascertain exactly what the creative intention was.
Besides its pacing flaws and some confusing narrative shifts, Mrs President offers a deeply profound and evocative study of Mrs Lincoln, transforming her soiled image into a sensitive portrait of grief and vulnerability in times of immense hardship.
Mrs President will be performed at C aquila – temple from 13-27 August (not 14, 21) at 2:30pm as part of Edinburgh Fringe.
Words by Katie Heyes
Support The Indiependent
We’re trying to raise £200 a month to help cover our operational costs. This includes our ‘Writer of the Month’ awards, where we recognise the amazing work produced by our contributor team. If you’ve enjoyed reading our site, we’d really appreciate it if you could donate to The Indiependent. Whether you can give £1 or £10, you’d be making a huge difference to our small team.