A Small Fire Ignites

A very obvious metaphor lies at the center of Adam Bock's new play A Small Fire playing this month at Playwrights Horizons. Emily Bridges (Michelle Pawk), a middle aged woman who owns a successful construction company--and acts like she owns everyone in it--suddenly loses her sense of smell. She begins a quick decline that leads to blindness and other lost senses as well. At first brush, Emily's strange illness is only a tool to render her helpless, forcing her and her husband to reverse roles. Whereas Emily is used to being the breadwinning woman who speaks her mind, John Bridges (Reed Birney), who works in HR, must now be the strong one and care for his wife.

Despite this gimmicky proposition, Bock successfully shows the depth of an entire marriage over the course of Emily's decline. Emily and John's grown daughter, Jenny (Celia Keenan-Boger), plays the role of an outsider whom the marriage must be explained to. As Jenny changes her mind about her parents and their marriage, so do we. Early on, we see Emily berate Jenny about her upcoming marriage. Emily thinks Jenny's fiance is basically a joker who isn't good enough for her. Keenan-Bolger betrays a lifetime of resentment in each look she throws at her mother. Clearly the good cop, John explains why he has stuck with Emily through all these years of abuse when he is confronted by his daughter. "You should have left her," she implores. "I can't be alone," is his simple answer. Birney's delivery of this line is perfect. He seems to have thought about Jenny's question before, and now only briefly hesitates to tell her or not. He finally does get the words out, clearly and definitely.

Emily struggles with her own loneliness as she loses each sense that put her in touch with the rest of the world. It's understandably difficult for a seeing person to act like she's blind, and Pawk does not master the task. However, her body does show the growing inwardness of her mind. Vibrant and wholly present on stage in early scenes, she takes on a ghostlike presence in later ones as she seems to shrink into her baggier clothing. But when visitors come, Emily shouts as if to reassert her presence. Bock's dreamlike sequences for Emily are supposed to reveal her more to us, but are unnecessary. Emily stands downstage with her narration in voice over. Though blocked in a dreamlike way, we simply learn that Emily feels trapped, which is not really a surprise.

The most controversial scene in the play is a lengthy sex scene at the play's literal climax between Emily and John. John is completely naked, with careful blocking the only thing between us and his junk. Lasting several minutes, I sense that we are supposed to see Emily and John getting closer in this scene. Perhaps Bock wants to make us uncomfortable as a contrast to the couple's lack of inhibitions. But it probably could have been said with more clothes.

Eventually, we see why John cannot be alone, and why Emily and John may be a good match. In one scene, Emily admonishes Jenny to take care of her father because he does not know how to be strong on his own. Yet John also seems to be the best person to take care of Emily. He devises a mechanism by which to communicate with her once she is in deeper decline. The two have grown into each other over the years.