REVIEW: ‘The Last of the Love Letters’ by Ngozi Anyanwu at the Atlantic Theater Company
Image courtesy of Atlantic Theater Company / Provided by BBB with permission.
The Last of the Love Letters, a new play written by and starring Ngozi Anyanwu, is poetic, transfixing and most of all heartfelt. The 70-minute work, now playing the Atlantic Theater Company’s Linda Gross Theater, features two main performers: Anyanwu as You and Daniel J. Watts as You No.2. They both deliver monologues to the sitting audience from different settings, each delving into detail about past love and present circumstances. The words by Anyanwu are carefully chosen and beautifully rendered, giving the theatrical evening an aura of a poetry recitation, set in a world of uncertainty, confusion and control.
You is the first person on stage, and she’s actually sitting in her apartment as theatergoers first enter the Linda Gross. She’s writing, contemplatively, in her journal, and then it would seem the words from that personal missive come to life in the first 15 minutes of the play. You addresses the audience as she plays some music, lies down on bed and eventually leaves through the door.
What You shares is personal and confessional, centered on love and loss. It can be a welcome challenge to fill in the blanks and draw out a narrative from the words, but it’s equally satisfying to let this poetry simply flow from the stage as it chisels out a complete character. The more that is said in these “last of the love letters,” the more the audience learns who You is, was and can be.
After this introduction, the remainder of the work is owned by You No.2 (there’s also a third character, named Person, played by Xavier Scott Evans). For an hour, Watts’ high-intensity, high-energy, wonderfully moving performance takes hold of the theater. His character appears to be imprisoned and is subject to inspections and forced medications. There is a solitary bed and a staircase that ascends and descends from the rafters in this dystopian world.
More is learned about You No.2 because he is given more time to share his thoughts, his troubles and his vivid memories of a life before his present circumstances. Concrete details are few and far between, and it remains unclear the exact connections between the characters and the outside world. But what’s left are these words and how Anyanwu, as a playwright, is able to make real the human emotions felt within. It’s not difficult to see parallels to today’s struggles in society, including mass incarceration and the isolation felt during the pandemic. Person, for example, is decked out in full hazmat gear when he administers medicine to You No.2, a scary image that has become all too familiar in the past two years.
You No.2 goes through a series of mountains and valleys with his feelings and recitations. As written and certainly as performed, the character feels like he is grasping for understanding and desiring for a break to the monotonous loneliness of his current restrictions. He goes through so many motions and emotions, breaking down and building back up again. Watts, a powerful actor, delivers a physical and emotive performance that is the highlight of the show. He doesn’t hold back on anything, and he earns the full attention of the assembled crowd.
The fact that everything in The Last of the Love Letters is not tied up perfectly in a bow is actually quite important. This is abstract art that requires personal reflection and necessary contemplation. As staged by director Patricia McGregor, You and You No.2 open up their hearts in the most intimate of settings, and they seemingly yearn for understanding, a kind ear and most of all the pleasure of company once again.
By John Soltes / Publisher / John@HollywoodSoapbox.com
The Last of the Love Letters continues through Sunday, Sept. 26 at the Linda Gross Theater at the Atlantic Theater Company. Written by Ngozi Anyanwu. Directed by Patricia McGregor. Starring Anyanwu, Daniel J. Watts and Xavier Scott Evans. Running time: 70 minutes. Click here for more information and tickets.
