Review: UNSEEN at Mosaic Theater Company

TW for both this show and review: references to suicide, war, mental health/trauma.

When I worked at The New York Times, one of our photojournalists happened to be one of the first people on site for a tragic moment in Gaza. Following the coverage of not only the event but his own proximity to the incident, I attended a company panel on photojournalism. The one thing that stuck out to me was the idea that photojournalists view the world differently: while most people follow the very real human instinct to run away from bullets, they run towards them - to get the shot, to get the story, to document the moment. There's a level of bravery and nerve and foolishness that feels unique to the profession, and is both admirable and concerning. But it wasn't until later on that I understood the magnitude of that impulse, when I was giving my cousin an impromptu tour of the old Newseum's photo gallery, and she noted that the photographer behind one of the famed photos had committed suicide roughly a year after the photo was taken, haunted by what he had seen. Photojournalists may show us what we need to see, but the toll this role takes on them can be devastating.

This is the premise behind Mona Mansour's latest play, the brilliant and poignant Unseen. Unseen follows Mia, a conflict photographer, who wakes up in her ex-girlfriend's apartment in Istanbul with no memory of how she got there. Throughout the play, Mia pieces together what happened with the help of her ex, Derya, and her mother, Jane, while reflecting on her career and influences - all the people and points that brought her to this tragic and confusing moment. As she unravels the truth of her situation, the audience explores the toll conflict takes not just on those affected, but by those tasked with recording and reporting on it.

There's often a lot of discussion in conflict and rights spaces about the need for people to bear witness to the things humans do to each other, to have someone who can hold up the mirror to society and to the world, to make us all face down what we, collectively do. But documenting the cost of war and violence has its own cost that often is unrecognized, and the wounds of holding up that mirror can cut deep. Mia isn't a saint - in fact, on more than one occasion, those closest to her refer to her as an asshole - but she's bearing a burden that has a tremendous cost. Mansour's script approaches Mia's position with care and sympathy for this, but also grapples with the question of why she's driven to take on this work.

The care and sympathy in Mansour's script is only one piece of a beautiful and complicated play. The story is a hard one to tell, and Mansour's research is as clear as her understanding, not just of conflict, but of people. The characters she crafts are believable and relatable, and no part of the production shies away from harsh truths about humanity or conflict, nor does it exploit them. The balance struck is thoughtful and engaging, and care is taken not only with Mia's situation, but with each character and circumstance explored - the whole play reminds us of the need for empathy and nuance when discussing these hard situations, even when it feels like a clear "right" or "wrong" is present - maybe even especially then, since "right" and "wrong" often have little bearing on how everyday people are impacted by these larger events.

Supporting this balance is the incredible team at Mosaic Theater Company that brings Mansour's superb script to life. Director Johanna Gruenhut leads the all-woman cast (and majority-woman crew) with careful, tender staging and with a deft hand at both the big, grandiose scenes and the and small, quiet moments. Gruenhut's attention to detail and sensitivity to the layers of the production are central to how well the performance works, as is the excellent work of Fight and Intimacy Director Sierra Young. As Mia, Katie Kleiger captures a fascinating level of bravado and anguish, showing a woman whose ideals and survival drive her decisions, often to her own detriment. Kleiger shows a difficult and heartbreaking range as the audience follows Mia through her interviews and self-journey. Emily Townley portrays Mia's mother, Jane, as well as some of Mia's subjects and her editor, showing the many faucets a mother figure can take both in shaping and supporting a person. Her performance spans from deeply emotional to brisk while covering deeper wounds, and it's fun and fascinating to watch her switch between roles. Rounding out the cast is Dina Soltan, who was also featured in Mansour's previous production at Mosaic, The Vagrant Trilogy. Soltan shines here much as she did then, not only with the emotional complexity needed for Derya, a nonpracticing Muslim woman who's confident in her identity as both an academic and a lesbian, while also struggling with the difficulties of loving and supporting Mia, who hurts her as much as she supports her. As an aside, this character was a particularly smart portrayal on Mansour's part, and Soltan shines with her fierce challenge to the assumptions many audiences (particularly in the US) would make about a character in her position.

Soltan also pulls off a particularly impressive feat, as Derya and some of the subjects Mia covers. Fluidly switching from English to Turkish to Arabic, Soltan grounds the production in its sense of place, and yet translations are never needed for the language changes. We may not know the exact words being spoken (my Arabic is limited to about three words, and my Turkish is even worse), but her expressiveness and movements so wholly convey her meaning - both on her own and in conversation with Kleiger's Mia - that it's unmistakable what is being said. The ability to transcend specific text while still reveling in a beautiful script is a testament to both Mansour and the performers' skill, as well as the excellent work by Dialect and Language Consultants and Hala Baki and Rebecca Clark Carey.

Supporting this talented cast is an equally formidable production team. Emily Lotz's striking set is versatile and has the peculiar ability to morph into the distinct moments of the play despite its larger and more intrusive set pieces - a giant tree juts out from the back wall, and somehow manages to fade into the background during the scenes when it's not relevant, though its constant presence is another excellent visual for the show's themes. The pieces used to portray Derya's apartment as well as the various sites Mia visits are fitting for all uses, yet seem to be selected specifically for each scene, and the illuminations featured on the walls of Derya's apartment are particularly gorgeous. This is helped in large part by Deb Thomas' great props, and Mona Kasra's clever projections, which cover some of the more intense moments as well as scene transitions. Mia's flashbacks are portrayed by a smart combination of Kasra's projections alongside flashes from Jesse Belsky's perceptive lighting, which also does excellent work of helping set tone and place as the actors change characters, countries, and times throughout the stage. Sarah Cubbage's distinct costumes also help with these characterizations (and are used for an impressive number of quick changes), and help distinguish each character and moment. Rounding out the main production team is Matthew N. Nielson, whose excellent sound design also featured contemporary Middle Eastern music, which was fun and the perfect way to set the tone.

Unseen is a heartfelt and heartrending production that covers difficult topics, but somehow manages to leave the audience feeling hopeful - a difficult and rare accomplishment. Unseen is both an important show, and a character drama at its core, and its ability to balance both so deftly makes for an incredibly moving performance. There's something inherently thoughtful and heartwarming about the show and the human connections it highlights, despite the tragedy and loss it covers, and it's a testament to the amazing artists behind it.

Mona Mansour's Unseen runs at Mosaic Theater Company through April 23rd. Performance run time is approximately 90 minutes, with no intermission. Ticket information and details on closed captioned performances can be found on the Mosaic Website. Additional content warnings: Unseen includes sounds of explosions and sudden flashing lights, as well depictions of PTSD and addiction.

Banner Photo: Katie Kleiger as Mia and Emily Townley as her mother, Jane, with Dina Soltan as Derya in Mona Mansour's Unseen. Photo by Chris Banks.

Mosaic Theater dedicates its production of Unseen to the victims of the recent earthquakes in Turkey and Syria, where the play takes place.

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