The American Repertory Theater’s latest theater offering, “Ocean Filibuster” set out with the goal to “depict the reality of the climate crisis” by blurring the lines between entertainment and education. Unfortunately, it lacks clarity at times and loses track of its aim by engaging in tangential commentary. The result is a show that struggles to gain its footing. “Ocean Filibuster” would be better off presenting itself as a challenge to time, boldly commanding it to move slower than it has ever moved before.
Jennifer Kidwell plays “Mr. Majority,” in the show — a run-of-the-mill, allegedly forward-facing politician who presents a bill to a global senate sometime in the future. The bill’s champions hope to dramatically decrease the size of the ocean in an effort to curb natural disasters and have more land. Kidwell also plays Ocean; all of Earth’s waters inexplicably took the form of a human being who unexpectedly arrives to filibuster the bill in order to save itself — and the many creatures that reside in it — from destruction.
Throughout Ocean’s filibuster, the audience is educated on how inappropriate it is to gender this human manifestation of the ocean. One performer stands behind the audience and asks Mr. Majority if he is referring to the ocean as “she” because it is “something to be conquered.” Ocean then declares “o” as o’s preferred pronoun. Mr. Majority then continues to struggle to refer to Ocean as o, providing a useless and confusing commentary on gender identity and patriarchal realities. This struggle would distract less from the main points — that biodiversity is a good thing, humankind relies on the ocean to survive, and the answer to the rise in water-related natural disasters is not to rid the earth of much of the ocean, but instead to cut carbon emissions — if those points were presented in a more clear and engaging way.
A white, vinyl-paneled stage with a dramatic white podium in the center makes it seem as if the audience were a part of the senate, blurring the line between the audience and the performance. The screens on the sides read “Thank you for being here,” “Welcome to the Global Federation of Humans on Earth,” and “Zambiethopia,” although the last name goes unexplained. After a few minutes, these messages give way to scenes of nature projected on the stage’s sides.
This sleek design and the choice to almost include the audience in the show — reinforced by the unceremonious beginning — gives the show the feel of a planetarium. One could be forgiven for expecting a relatively quick, somewhat educational show that manages to both soothe and stimulate, but they would be wrong to do so.
The interactive intermission, which further draws the audience into the show, features a series of educational exhibits and a man in a dress who claims to be a cod. Indeed, the show enters so far into the realm of the absurd that one can only go with the flow and find some brief peace — though a dinnertime cocktail or two before the event might help.
“Ocean Filibuster” is at least consistent, closing with an “ocean choir” that sings something about whales calling to one another. It is probably meant to be mesmerizing and profound, a fitting end to what is supposed to be a mesmerizing and profound work of art. This scene, too, fails in this respect, coming across as a jumble of unintelligible, high-pitched voices that simulates the experience of entering a disorienting wedding reception.
The show’s numerous flaws aside, there are high points that deserve to be praised. Kidwell makes a valiant effort to keep the audience engaged, deftly switching between her two roles and delivering each line with charisma and conviction. The lighting and stage design — which frequently and arrestingly transition from blinding white to an array of glowing colors and ocean scenes — are quite beautiful. Moreover, they provide sufficient visual stimuli for one to dissociate from reality — just long enough to be pleasantly surprised when they check their watch and see that the show’s two hours have already passed.
