I Am An Island at Watering Hole Collective
I AM AN ISLAND, written by Julia Lederer, tells the story of a young woman who desperately tries to convince her loved ones to flee their island before everything sinks underwater. Directed by Angela Gulner, the Watering Hole Collective’s interpretation heightens the sense of urgency and desperation by imbuing the characters who refuse to acknowledge the problem with overwhelming enthusiasm.
The story opens with May (Mikaela Baker), who introduces her island, its traditions, ways of thinking, and history. Standing at the center of the stage, she scans the audience as she speaks: she can see us and knows we’re there. She remains still, unable to move—something keeps her rooted in place because what she’s saying is deeply important to her. We sense her desperation through the intensity of her actions, the strength in her tone, and her exaggerated expressions, all designed to capture our attention. Then, she begins to sink into a hole at the center of the stage while her loved ones continue with their lives, calling her out for it.
Baker exudes strength, and she knows how to wield it. She’s present, right in front of us, throughout the entire play, and when she wants to be seen and heard, she commands our attention. Our focus never strays from her on stage. Her performance is never exaggerated; it’s controlled and powerful. Her voice projection is exceptional, even when she’s inside the hole.
May introduces her twin sister, Sandra (Olivia Cinquepalmi), who is her complete opposite. Sandra is cheerful, running around the stage, decorating it, and making it cozier for everyone. Her objective is clear: she doesn’t want to leave. Cinquepalmi and Baker excel in portraying the conflicting goals of May and Sandra, making the story easy for us to follow. Cinquepalmi’s enthusiasm throughout the play heightens our sense of frustration as Sandra refuses to acknowledge the urgency of the problem.
Another character who adds to our frustration is Ben (Jon Garrard), May’s fiancé. Throughout the play, he focuses on a bird rather than his partner. His lack of empathy helps us understand why May feels so isolated. Garrard brings a sense of goofiness to the character, which initially feels lighthearted to the audience—until we begin to empathize with May.
Then Grandma (Octavia Y. Thomas) is introduced. She left long ago and exists only in May’s memories. Grandma is the key to understanding why May feels so powerless. She constantly reminds May of her flaws, labeling her a pessimist and blaming her for her daughter’s death during childbirth. Like May, Grandma stays in one place—playing with her martini glass, sitting down and standing up, but never leaving her spot. Through Thomas’s portrayal, Grandma enchants the audience. You find yourself liking her from the start, and the way she delivers her lines makes you want to sip martinis with her on the beach. While her presence adds to May’s frustration, it also shows us that opposing May doesn’t require bubbly energy—just a strong, unwavering objective that contradicts hers.
The level of enthusiasm among May’s companions becomes somewhat overwhelming with the introduction of April (Alyssa Carrasco), who shares their excitement about starting a life on the island. At times, the combined exuberance of Sandra, Ben, and April makes the story feel a bit annoying. Carrasco brings great diction to her character, which could be further enhanced with a bit more vocal projection.
Through these characters, Gulner gives us a glimpse into May's feelings—the frustration and helplessness of watching people refuse to listen, while being unable to act because they all seem so happy. My question for May is: Why did she feel the need to ask for permission to get her wings?
There are great visual elements at play while the actors are on stage. The scene resembles a kindergarten backyard decorated with drawings of fish, paper flowers, and beautiful use of fabric. This creates a sense of playfulness while also highlighting May's childhood traumas. Throughout the play, the characters decorate the island with fabric, hang and wash clothes, and interact with water represented through these materials. It’s a clever choice to symbolize the flow and presence of water with fabric, and José Torres executes it in a way that feels very organic. Another beautiful detail is how the lighting transitions softly from green to blue, subtly immersing the audience in the presence of water until it’s too late. Aaron Johansen designs the lights to feel so inviting that you start to feel comfortable, just like most of the islanders, allowing you to become part of this world without even realizing it.
As the play concludes, you might initially feel it’s time to move on, as if the story were merely a fantasy. Then, the panel conversation begins, which is crucial to what the Watering Hole Collective aims to convey. This isn’t just fantasy; it reflects our reality. There are numerous environmental issues in our surroundings, and like the islanders in the story, we are also in danger. During the panel discussion I attended, we learned about lead and methane contamination in our communities, the consequences of heat from asphalt, and how the Indigenous people who lived here before the city was founded recognized that this was not a safe place to stay. We also discussed how the city’s founders created high and low contamination zones to determine where people of color could live, and the consequences of this decision still affect our communities. So I invite you to listen to May and stay after the play to recognize that your island has also been sinking since before your grandparents’ grandparents' grandparents walked its soil, but you can stop it.
RUNNING: Through September 22nd, 2024
VENUE: Wyly Studio Theatre, 2400 Flora Street, Dallas, TX 75201
TICKETS: https://www.wateringholecollective.org/i-am-an-island