Burning Bones Physical Theatre recently put up a production of “Small Mouth Sounds” by Bess Wohl at Windmill Arts. The performances ran from March 22 through March 31, 2024.
The theatre announced its upcoming events, the 67th Annual National Water Dance at Sweetwater State Park in Lithia Springs, and Hysteria from Nov. 14 through Nov. 17, 2024 at Windmill Arts.
Joan and her partners, Judy, Jan, Ned, and Alicia, from left to right. Photo courtesy of Claryssa Luna Taran.
The show was an immersive experience from the moment I stepped foot in the theatre. A soft instrument greeted me from the doorway to the start of the play, which was also created by the composer of the show.
It’s funny, sultry for no reason, serious, and gives you “no refunds.” In “Small Mouth Sounds,” six people arrive at a silent retreat led by an underqualified and sultry leader. The campers, Joan and her partners Judy, Jan, Ned, Rodney, and Alicia, were both irksome and hilarious in how they adjusted (or didn’t adjust) to the silence. The play immediately started with Judy and Joan arguing, Joan weirdly fangirling over Rodney, his yoga videos, and the Teacher’s appearance.
Photo courtesy of Claryssa Luna Taran.
The Teacher was seated behind the audience, as an overseer. His strange sexual cadence provided humor along with the ridiculous metaphors he told. For example, the well frog instantly dying once he saw the ocean was a metaphor for never being able to go back to the well once you change. There was a cacophony of rules to be followed by the campers, including no cellphone use, which was promptly broken when Alicia arrived on the scene with headphones firmly in her ears. Along with Rodney’s complete disrespect of Ned’s personal space, Alicia repeatedly and fruitlessly tried to leave a message for her ex, and Jan stripped to his underwear to bed. The group was off to a strong start in the performance.
Photo courtesy of Claryssa Luna Taran.
Once they went to sleep, Jan did a strange moon dance that reveres the moon. The pain he was able to communicate was outstanding, and the lighting made his half-naked form very Michaelangelo-esque. However I will admit, it went on for a few beats too long and my attention waned. I found myself studying the minimalist set design and props — the moon on the back wall, and the yoga mats doubling as the beds and their luggage. Pre-recorded nature sounds were used sparingly to communicate situations and activities.
The second half started just as bizarrely, with another strange metaphor from the Teacher, who used the cold he was battling and claimed, “The key to enlightenment is cold medicine.” This was quite tragically juxtaposed with the campers’ ongoing crisis and desperate need for wisdom. They were encouraged to identify the thoughts and pain deep in their hearts and write them down, an ideation of everything they’ve been holding in. He then descended into a rant on technology as they wrote. To put the cherry on top, the Teacher was interrupted in the middle of his rant by his phone ringing, after claiming he only recently got an email, effectively breaking his own rule. He excuses himself with the echo of his excuses following him as he walks off stage. In the scenes following, Judy discovers Joan’s ideation while she skinny-dips, and what is written seems to break her apart, dissolving into a rigid pain-filled performance. Upon knowing she’d been found out, Joan broke her silence and tried to defend herself, but her bags were packed and she left that evening.
The scene after was my favorite because of how she tried to center herself, letting out vocalized deep exhales. Each exhale got heavier and louder until she was wailing her pain in all sorts of octaves for several moments. In the way the wails developed and grew, the groans grabbed onto the dark struggle hidden away and dragged it out for the audience to understand and feel. Along with this came a sense of emotional exhaustion and weightlessness, a feeling of relief she afforded us all. In awe of this, I was left a sniffling mess at the magnitude of emotion evoked in me.
Photo courtesy of Claryssa Luna Taran.
The next meeting changed it all. The characters all arrived at different intervals of tardiness, and this set off the Teacher, who descended into an angry monologue. He claimed that people brought themselves to the retreat only to leave just the same, and it’s a tale of how we don’t want to enforce change in ourselves, but the attempt makes us feel better and it gives us a story to tell of how good we are. In a moment of rare honesty, he tearfully confessed that his father was dying and he was lost. He became human just like the rest of them, and this resonated with the audience. What was once hushed laughter and whispers died down into almost a guilty silence. His powerful words, “You are not alone,” are repeated, and the scene is closed to allow for the rest of the characters to have epiphanies.
Photo courtesy of Claryssa Luna Taran.
While the play changed the audience’s perspective on every interaction, it ended heartbreakingly with the Teacher being the last to burn his ideation. He dissolved into wails of his own, shushing and patting his own back as he sobbed and hugged himself.
Photo courtesy of Florence Kahuhu.
As I walked out of the theatre — thoughts racing and sniffles all around me — I noticed that a new table had been set up in the lobby with baskets of each of the characters’ notable items that would be won after the final show. As I held the stuffed animal Jan carried in memory of his son, the scene still fresh, I thought about that feeling of alienation and how I could relate deeply to that. Looking over the table and finding pieces of myself in each basket, I allowed myself to reflect on the lessons I learned. “Small Mouth Sounds” showed me that you never know what is going on beneath the surface, and hardship has a way of bringing people together.
Overall, 5.5 out of 7 masks.
