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October 10-16, 2002 theater To The Extreme
In the early ’80s, William Mastrosimone’s Extremities made a stir off-Broadway. The story of an attempted rape and its aftermath, the play -- in which the female gains the upper hand and turns the tables on her attacker -- clearly found resonance with audiences. The playwright appears to have two significant intentions: 1) to heighten public awareness of sexual crime -- in particular, awareness of the degree to which the victim is eyed with suspicion, even by her supporters; and 2) to create a kind of empowerment fantasy in which that victim takes control. Both ideas are laudable and potentially theatrical. The trouble with Extremities is that it's a revenge play -- and nothing more. Unlike Ariel Dorfman's similarly plotted Death and the Maiden, there are no intriguing ambiguities about facts and motivation. We know precisely what happened from the beginning, and none of the four characters (the attacker, the woman, her two female roommates) has any depth. When Mastrosimone's writing reaches for gravitas ("Now I know how Christ felt," the attacker announces at one point in a script not notable for understatement), it's merely embarrassing. More troubling, the opening scene -- in which a comely, provocatively dressed woman is graphically brutalized, both physically and emotionally -- is only a split-hair away from the kind of damsel-in-distress film cliches that exploit rather than illuminate. Ultimately, I don't doubt Mastrosimone's sincerity, but Extremities is such a weak piece of dialectic that we sometimes wonder. In its initial production, the play launched a discussion about whether or not it could be seen as "feminist." It seems hard to imagine now -- Extremities is just not interesting enough to merit serious debate. There is a simple level at which the play can work, as cheesy, movie-of-the-week suspense. But here we encounter another problem. Paradoxically, Extremities is the kind of mediocre play that is much harder to pull off than a good one, since it requires outstanding acting and directing to overcome the weaknesses. In this production -- the initial offering by the Intrepid Theatre Company -- an earnest, young cast (Renee Muchler as the female victim, Christopher Snock as her attacker, Irene Trantas and Angela Carolfi as the roommates) doesn't have sufficient technique to sustain fever pitch over the two-plus hours of the play, and they are further hampered by Dwight Wilkins' slack and slow-paced direction. 
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