By David Greenham

Is anyone surprised that playwrights like Maggie Kearnan are creating works that show us resourceful women who are ready to fight back against their oppressors?

Like Flies, a rage play by Maggie Kearnan. Directed by Sally Wood. Scenic design by Anita Stewart. Costume design by Michelle Handley. Lighting design by Mary Lana Rice. Sound design by Kate Wecker. Movement coaching by Gwyneth Jones. Produced by Portland Stage Company, Forest Ave., Portland, ME, through March 22

Carina Higgins, Jordan Hurley, Kelly Chick, Luz Lopez & Catherine Buxton in the Portland Stage production of Like Flies. Photo: courtesy of Portland Stage

Unless you have your head in the sand – or sand in your head – you’ve noticed that men, since the beginning of human history, have gone out of their way to belittle, demean, and take advantage of women. It’s also clear that the patriarchal foundations on which human civilization stands are long overdue for a reckoning. For many, this recognition flexed its public muscle in the mainstream with the emergence of the “Me Too” movement of the early 2000s. For others, waves were made when women had the nerve to accept their party’s nomination for President of the United States.

During the last decade or so, the political right has systematically been undercutting the agency of women, focusing on removing abortion rights and now moving beyond that, dreaming of a return to a male-dominated society.

Little wonder, then, that Boston playwright Maggie Kearnan, and millions of other intelligent women, is filled with rage. And she has made her anger with theatrical power. Her latest script, Like Flies, is the recipient of Portland Stage Company’s prestigious Clauder Competition, which annually supports a new play by a New England playwright with funding and a full production as part of its season.

Inspired by the early 20th–century story of the Angel Makers of Nagyrév, Hungary, the play is set in Navestead, a fictional 17th–century New England village. We meet a community of five women: Catherine Buxton, Luz Lopez, Carina Higgins, Jordan Hurley, and Kelly Chick. Most of them are mothers who have relied on their beloved midwife Meg Dooley (DeAnna S. Wright) to support them through childbirth. Thus the sudden arrival of a second midwife in the community, Edna Ingram (Cynthia Barnett), causes a stir. Edna tries to make friends with the women, but her efforts generate gossip rather than goodwill. She lives in seclusion in a hilltop house — that is suspicious. She’s got a cauldron, and it is rumored she has a ‘little black book’ as well. Does she mean the villagers harm? “She’s not a witch, she’s just a stranger,” offers a woman who is willing to give Edna a chance. Others insist that she is obviously engaging in the dark arts.

Soon, there is a call for midwives Edna and Meg to collaborate and help with a breech birth. A friendship begins. Meg is old school; for her medicine, she relies on herbs, plants, and flowers. Edna draws on newer methods of chemistry and alchemy to create tinctures and potions. They decide to teach each other their tricks of the trade.

But that creates difficulties. A community that supports two midwives who ‘conspire’ together in a secluded lab raises fear among the ignorant, and before long the men start chattering among themselves. Mayor Rutledge declares that he will pass a law prohibiting the town from having two midwives; it will be a way to prevent the possibility that midwives will be able to scheme, perhaps upsetting the political balance of the village.

“Write your law, I dare you,” defiant Meg declares, “your pen on paper is not stronger than my tongue.”

In the face of threats, the midwives grow closer and build up a mutual trust. Meg confides that her husband is abusive. She is looking for help, and  Edna might have what is needed. There is a potion, Edna admits, but she’s reluctant to share it. Meg wears down her reluctance, and within a few days her husband has mysteriously died. The word gets out, and there is a predictable run on the concoction. Strong-willed Retta Longwood (Catherine Buxton) bursts into the lab, insisting that she be permitted to use the mysterious potion on her abusive husband. Before long, the men in the community are “dropping like flies.”

Carina Higgins, Cynthia Barnett, Catherine Buxton & DeAnna S. Wright in in the Portland Stage production of Like Flies. Photo: courtesy of Portland Stage

Like Flies is indeed a rage play. The women in Navestead Village are angry at how they are being treated by the males who run the village. Edna’s skills as an alchemist supply an (overly) effective tool of revenge against men who violently abuse women’s lives. As we are seeing with the rampages instigated by our current administration in Washington: when your chosen tool is a hammer, everything begins to look like a nail.

Kearnan’s script strikes me as a powerful work-in-progress. It starts off as a story about a small-town rivalry between two midwives, and then explodes into a chiller that cascades out of control. The narrative is divided in two: there’s the realistic level of the doings in the village with rural, ambient sound; another level makes use of spooky visuals along with soundscape that suggests the supernatural. Director Sally Wood, who has been specializing in staging new work, skillfully manages the duel nature of Kearnan’s script. The acting ensemble, while strong across the board, were still working on balancing their performances on the two levels — and between each other — on opening night. Running just over two hours with an intermission, the production is adroit and fast-moving.

As usual, set designer and Portland Stage executive and artistic director Anita Stewart creates an effectively sparse set that evokes the rocky New England environment. A table and flown-in mantelpiece represent Edna’s lab-like cottage kitchen. Mary Lana Rice’s moody lighting, and Kate Wecker’s undulating sound, supply plenty of haunting grit to the proceedings. Michelle Handley’s functional costumes focus on the ordinariness of the characters – these are regular folks, and their use of the potion gives them irregular power.

Kudos also go to movement coach Gwyneth Jones, well-known and respected in Maine, whose choreographed movements capture how the kinetic energy early on devolves into a chaos that leads the group of women spinning out of control.

In the end, there are consequences to the women’s actions, but the rage is the theme here and the fury is palpable.

Is Like Flies, a rage play,  a male-bashing drama? Not to me, but I’m sure there will be some audience members who will be upset by its anger, and the violent actions it spawns against masculine privilege. Instead, let’s hope that the message that comes across is that women have been horribly mistreated throughout human history. Yes, even when America was “Great,” according to the red hat crowd. The time has come to call out the abuse, and work harder to end it. Is anyone surprised that dramatists like Kearnan are creating works that show us women who are resourceful — and ready to fight back against their oppressors? It would be wise for the patriarchy and its fans to pay attention.

David Greenham is an arts and culture consultant, adjunct lecturer on Drama at the University of Maine at Augusta, and is the former executive director of the Maine Arts Commission. He can be found at https://davidgreenham.com/