I chose to attend Executing Eve, a new by Eric Mansfield, debuting at convergence-continuum’s theater the Liminis, knowing full well that my heart and spirit would be challenged. It made me weep numerous times. You will see why.
The stage is a stark monochromatic prison cell. A barred window ominously dominates the room — a large wooden gallows clearly stands as a primal, Salem Witch trials-like reminder of what Eve, the protagonist, is facing.
It’s New Year’s Eve 2034 in Eve’s cell in the Medina County Jail. Eve — named for the “first woman,” traditionally excoriated for “ruining” the Garden of Eden — is scheduled for a midnight execution. She was found guilty of poisoning a judge whose rejection of pleas for medical care of her sister’s high-risk pregnancy caused that unnamed sister to die.
Eve recaps her trial to herself, displaying her bravado and her fear, and is palpably nervous and despairing. The ticking clock conveys an immediacy, impending doom. Eve’s every word and gesture compel this reviewer into her shrunken world — her last hours — forcing so many vacillating emotions into each sentence, each nervous gesture and stride.
Agnes (Eve’s attorney) and Kaya (Eve’s sister) enter the cell, sparking emotional yet logical discussions of the ways Eve’s situation could go this night. Dobbs and the national abortion ban are frequently cited — briefly, harrowingly. These abominations are now acknowledged as real, but not accepted as just.
Eve is due to be hanged last, of six people sentenced to die this night. Fucker, the unseen guard, is watching from above. He is always watching, the screen is always on — a menacing Big Brother presence.
In this dystopian future, lynching is legal again; in addition to Dobbs and the national abortion ban, there are now no credit cards or voting for women; period tracking applications are mandatory. Although only mentioned in passing, these horrors are all the more painful for that brevity — these frightening losses of freedoms, reminders of The Handmaid’s Tale.
Eve is well-read, her knowledge and references displayed throughout the play. This is contrasted by the character of Marty, a writer from a fluff-piece-type media outlet. Marty is flip and superficial, making tasteless verbal gaffes regarding Eve’s situation/crime/beliefs. Her most naïve remark is ‘My life is over because of this work assignment!’
Eve and Kaya reminisce about their history, occasionally interrupted chillingly by the noise of someone dropping from the gallows, and the crowd’s feral roars of rapture. Eve has no remorse for the murder; she names many women who died from being denied proper maternal medical care. Eve also reminds us how Supreme Court Justices Gorsuch, Kavanaugh and Coney Barrett all lied about their opinion of keeping Roe viable during the confirmation hearings, and then voted to kill Roe. These real-life reminders of the destruction of reproductive rights are visceral blows.
Fucker announces from on high that Eve is to be executed hours before her scheduled time of midnight. Eve is always and only addressed as Inmate 062422. [Note: her inmate number is the date Roe fell.] The panicky scene heightens breathlessly, and then Fucker scornfully intones, “Inmate 062422, your execution will go forward as originally scheduled, at midnight.”
Grace, the judge’s widow, enters the cell, very conservative and condescending. She offers Eve an apple, taunting her that it might be poisoned, echoing the snake in the Garden of Eden and the Wicked Witch in Snow White. Overwhelmed and unguarded, Eve collapses, holding her stomach protectively.
Agnes sharply reminds us of the raw, powerful truths of black maternal health outcomes, the vicious cruelties of the KKK, and viscerally recounts the anguished lynching story of Mary Turner. This is a most powerful and terrible story. We need to know this, to share Mary’s story, and to make certain that it never happens again, despite the threats of people like Fucker.
The Ohio Attorney General makes a last-minute offer through Agnes, with onerous restrictions and the condition that Eve admits that Dobbs and the national ban are right and correct, and she must express her remorse for the murder on a live broadcast.
Eve needs time to think about this offer. She is now alone on stage, disrobes (conscious that she’s watched constantly) and steps into the shower — her last request. She cries the truth passionately: women are real people, we make our own decisions; I want to be seen as an equal, as worthy, as deserving! Eve moves out of the shower, to front and center stage. A noose falls from the ceiling; she lifts and drops it, shuddering. The lighting dims, as Eve slowly moves to the window, watching and listening to the feral crowd noises. The scene darkens again, with haunting effect.
Eve watches Agnes, Kaya and Martha from her post at the window. Marty, truly saddened, says into her phone, “If you have to ask why, you’re not paying attention!” and follows Kaya and Agnes into the now-darkened stage.
Eve steps to front and centre stage, speaking to us all, to the entire country, to the world: “First they killed Roe, forcing Dobbs in its place; they are taking all of our rights away—what do we do now? Every woman’s life has meaning!” Fade to black.
The standing ovation lasted for minutes. I was moved to tears throughout this powerful, passionate presentation of reproductive rights issues. The constant reminders of recent destruction of reproductive rights were frequent and piercing. Perhaps these judges will say they were “only following orders.” That phrase was used at Nuremberg.
Stand up for reproductive rights and reproductive justice, NOW. We need this play to exist only as fiction.