Urbanite's 'Spaceman' is out of this world

Urbanite Theatre’s “Spaceman” is an odyssey of inner and outer space.

Urbanite Theatre boldly goes where few theaters have gone before. Its trek includes edgy subjects, mind-bending story structures and occasional giant leaps into science fiction. Leegrid Stevens’ “Spaceman” returns to that dangerous realm in the Urbanite’s latest production.

Stevens’ play unfolds in the not-too-distant future — 20 years ahead, give or take a decade. According to director Summer Dawn Wallace, his fictional dream is reality-based and grounded in hard science — but it’s not about the gadgets. “Spaceman” is a character study. And there’s only one character.

The play’s titular “Spaceman” is a woman — Molly Jennis (Terri Weagant). She’s an astronaut, a scientist and a recent widow. Her husband, Harry, was also an astronaut — until he died on a mission to Mars the previous year. One year later, Molly’s also chasing Mars. 

She’s now utterly alone in the cosmos in a spacecraft built for one. Molly’s voyage to the “angry red planet” is a 90-day mission across 250 million miles. She’ll have plenty of time to wrestle with her grief, loneliness and the terrifying silence of the infinite spaces. When she’s not pushing buttons. Or making banal product plugs for her corporate backers. 

NASA’s still officially in charge of space exploration. But private sponsors pay most of the costs — in exchange for off-world marketing. Astronauts are shameless shills in Molly’s brave new world. That’s the part of the job she hates. But Molly still digs space flight.

Why did Wallace sign up for this away-mission? Simple. After reading Stevens’ script, the director knew she had to do it.

“The world of ‘Spaceman’ is incredibly exciting," she says. "From a director’s perspective, it’s incredible challenging. How do we bring that world to the Urbanite? How do we evoke all the high-tech elements without overshadowing Molly’s journey as a character? I knew it’d be tough to pull off, but I had to tell Molly’s story.”

 “‘Spaceman’ is a human story set in a science fiction universe,” adds Wallace. “Molly’s story is the point, not the gizmos. The futuristic tech stays in the background. That’s baked into Stevens’ script, and I think it’s the right choice.”

The director’s focus is Molly’s journey, not the gee-whiz wonders of tomorrow. That said, Wallace still wants to get the futuristic details right. How hard could it be? It’s not rocket science, after all.

The devil's in the details

“No,” Wallace laughs. “But it feels pretty darn close at times. Staging ‘Space Man’ with scientific accuracy is nearly as complex as launching an actual space mission. The devil’s in the details, right? And space flight on stage has so many technical details. We want to make this world believable, but we also want to serve Molly’s story. Doing both at the same time is tough — but I think the Urbanite team made it happen.”

Tom Hansen’s spacecraft set evokes Molly’s claustrophobic isolation while keeping her actions totally visible to theatergoers. It also looks cool. “Tom’s space module has a functional, minimalist design. Clean lines, no nonsense, no unnecessary details. Everything’s there for a reason. The rest is all stripped away. It feels like an artifact from the future," Wallace says.

Image courtesy of Sorcha Augustine

Ethan Vail’s lighting design sets the emotional tone. It flips between space’s cold sterile vacuum to Molly’s white-hot interior life — a lightning storm of illumination, philosophical epiphany and sheer panic.

Rew Tippin’s sound design creates the auditory landscape of Molly’s odyssey. It’s a mix of eerie silences and the spacecraft’s technical heartbeat. “Light and sound make you feel what it’s like to be in space,” Wallace says. “They pull you into Molly’s emotional state.” 

Dee Johnson's spacesuit costume is a clue to Molly's bottled-up rage. Why so angry? Space flight is privatized in this brave new world. To please her sponsors, Molly’s suit is slapped with more corporate logos than a Nascar driver’s. She looks like a clown — but it’s what the sponsors want. That’s the world she lives in.

Simulating weightlessness in a theater

Speaking of world-building, Weagant's physical acting ultimately sells you on this play’s unearthly reality. Apart from knowing her lines, this actor also had to simulate weightlessness — believably. Weagant pulls it off with a mix of mime and upper body strength and lots of practice.

Simulating spaceflight — believably. That’s the short version of how Urbanite did it. The hard work and creativity is impressive. But it’s still just background. Molly’s story is still the point.

As Wallace sees it, Molly’s story is her mission — and vice versa. There’s no way to tease the two apart. But Molly’s mission objective doesn’t resemble her sponsors’ definition. It’s personal to Molly — a question of blood and bone, not the bottom line. 

Her corporate backers launched her husband on the same Martian odyssey. (Harry risked his life for humanity’s future. They sent him to his death for banal publicity.) Molly’s here to finish the job. That’s what drives her, though she didn’t mention it to her sponsors.

“That’s all subtext,” notes Wallace. “Terri’s characterization really puts it across to the audience. Her delivery of Molly’s words, her actions — you’re totally clear about Molly’s motivations. Terri makes you feel what Molly’s going through. She takes you with her on her journey.”

That journey isn’t a joy ride. Molly’s off on a dangerous mission for dangerous reasons. But it’s a mission of life, not a suicide mission.

Apart from her pet plant, Molly’s the only living organism inside her spacecraft. Outside, it’s a dead zone for billions and billions of light years. In a literal, physical sense, this astronaut’s utterly alone.

In Molly’s inner life, she never walks alone. Her companions include an onboard AI (aka “Jim”), a plant (aka “Sip”),and “Houston,” the voice of Mission Control back on Earth. Molly’s long-distance updates to NASA are often one-way conversations. Communication breaks down constantly. But Molly never stops talking, even when she’s talking to dead air. 

Molly’s endless stream of words reveal her stream-of-consciousness — they’re an X-ray into her soul. You see what Molly’s made of — and her grace under pressure. It’s sharp, efficient storytelling — and timeless. 

Molly’s mission has two possible endings: She’ll either successfully land on Mars and fly back home to a ticker-tape parade. Or she’ll crash and burn like her husband. This trip might be a one-way ticket. Molly knew that going in. But she went anyway. 

Is that the right stuff or what?