Who is the most powerless person in society? And what happens when the powerless in any given realm suddenly have unlimited power?
In “Veal,” the world premiere play now on stage at A Red Orchid Theatre, that person is a middle school girl disliked and bullied by her friend group. She goes on to become Queen of North America and wreaks havoc on her former peers.
Penned by first time playwright Jojo Jones, “Veal” takes the idea of nostalgia and stretches it to the most absurd limits. Jones asks existential questions about power dynamics, memories and ultimately questions reality itself — can we trust our own memories? Does it even matter if our memories are real if they manifest into serious consequences in adulthood?
The play centers around Chelsea, played by Alexandra Chopson, who was once a middle schooler tormented by her friend group. Now, after a violent coup, she is the all powerful Queen. Instead of setting up shop in the White House, she flips her old middle school into her headquarters, with a throne room in the former cafeteria.
“Veal” is dark. Its comedy feels like a necessity, and it’s the only thing that stops this play from being terrifying. After a revolution, infrastructure is destroyed. People are jobless, homeless and hungry. In the early part of this play, it feels impossible to separate the drama onstage from the drama of real life.
But the drama doesn’t stop at the revolution. There’s a breakdown in the supply chain, and a trio of Chelsea’s former middle school friends unexpectedly arrive in the throne room to beg for insulin for a dying sister in a refugee camp (the group is led by Franny, played here by the excellent Jojo Brown).
Chelsea needs to live in the past — and relive the past. This new world leader is hellbent on revisiting her wretched past and takes her former friends along for the ride. She forces them to reenact moments from their middle school days, resulting in vignettes that are equal parts pain and embarrassment — not just for the cast, but for the audience as well.
In an early scene, Carmia Imani, who plays Lulu, a member of the friend group, is forced to eat a 13-year-old Lunchable (the events take place 13-years after middle school for the characters). We all remember those Lunchables. In our minds, they were delicious. But the one in Lulu’s hands is expired, and she must eat the molded mystery meat anyway. Starving and powerless, not only does she eat it, she eventually tricks her mind into loving it. It’s weird. Gross. Gutwrenching. Lulu heaves after her first bites, nearly forcing me to heave from my seat.
Throughout the play, the director, Dado, shines. The staging highlights the disconnects between characters, while simultaneously bringing the audience distressingly close to the action (also a nod to a traverse stage designed by Tianxuan Chen). The uncomfortableness is palpable. At times, characters need to sit, but there are no chairs; when awkward or dangerous interactions happen, collateral characters have no escape. The discomfort is so tangible it nearly becomes a character of its own.
The play mostly lives in all of these horrible, embarrassing moments, and of course in the power-grabbing consequences. Chopson’s performance is chilling: When her former besties show up in need, she is like a cat with a mouse, deadpan when needed, then seamlessly flipping from middle school girl to regal leader. It’s a layered performance that embodies the off-kiltered weirdness of the show and character.
But we never really see how these events truly emotionally impact Chelsea. Was it so bad that the Queen of Everything would really bother? Absurdity makes sense right now, particularly in this political era, but the playwright delivered so much macro, we missed a little micro: I want Chelsea to stop playing pretend and plainly say what she felt that made her carry this for so many years.
Jojo Brown’s portrayal of Franny is eerily reminiscent of Regina George from “Mean Girls,” but much more sinister. She moves between desperation for the medication, to schoolyard frenemy flawlessly, and comes face-to-face with the impact of her own childhood actions.
“Veal” is a play about nostalgia. But it’s also about power. And the things we carry from childhood into adulthood. These are big ideas to grapple with for a first time writer, but also an admirable effort from an up-and-comer entering the industry.
Mike Davis is WBEZ’s theater reporter.