Wolf at the Door confounds our expectations, reverses them. It begins with traditional ideas and rethinks them. The savior becomes the monster. The predator becomes the savior. You might say it’s feminist revisionism, but it’s so much more. Like most engaging folk tales it’s just believable enough to be relevant, and mystical enough to cast a spell. Just when it seems Isadora must endure a life of grief and despair, help arrives in a strange guise.
Isadora is about to give birth, when Wolf at the Door opens. She has a bruises from Septimo (her abusive husband) and is afraid her injuries will affect the health of her child. Her family will be arriving in a few days, to celebrate the new baby, not realizing she’s trapped in a marriage with a man who bullies and beats her. Before they actually married, he was charming, but now Septimo treats her disgracefully. He is counting on the arrival of the child, knowing his wife would never abandon her own baby. While she is out in the stable, Yolot (Isadora’s helper/housekeeper) discovers a naked woman, lying in the hay. Her name is Rocio and she is actually a wolf in human shape, caught between two worlds. Rocio, too, is pregnant.
Playwright Marisela Tervino Orta has crafted an absorbing narrative. The marriage/birth bed dominates the set. Isadora and Septimo’s home is bright yellow adobe. Isadora’s predicament: being at the mercy of a husband who exploits her role as companion and nurturer, is at the core of the drama. If Isadora were more self-sufficient, physically stronger, she could get the upper hand. But like in most patriarchies, Isadora comes from a culture where women are rarely encouraged in these skills. When Isadora crosses paths with Rocio, she, Yolo and the she-wolf are able to gather cunning and protect themselves.
Wolf at the Door doesn’t deal in broad strokes. Like many wife-batterers, Septimo has his moments of contrition and tenderness. He provides for his wife and gives her a lovely hearth. But lurking beneath this layer of benevolence is his unresolved need to degrade her, or whatever fuels his toxic rage. Orta challenges us to question what it means to be fierce, without being ruthless. She pits archetypal roles and assumptions against each other. When we hear the title, it evokes the idea of jeopardy, peril. It doesn’t cross our minds that the real danger might come from master of the house. Orta takes our preconceived notions and conjures some considerable havoc. But the result is sublime, and astonishing.
Kitchen Dog Theater presents Wolf at the Door, playing April 11th-May 5th, 2019. 2600 N. Stemmons Freeway, Suite 180, Dallas, Texas 75207. (214) 953-1055. www.kitchendogtheater.org