Remaining Performances:
July 18, 9:30 p.m.; July 19, 1 p.m.

They say: “Jamaica. Revolution. Visa. Impossible. CIA. Seduction. Desperation. A dream. Heartbreak. Handsome. American. Customs. Million dollars. Duffel bag. Machetes. Goats. Prostitutes. Bullets. Adrenaline. Kerosene. Run for your life. Based on a true story.”

Annie’s take: No doubt you have at least a couple of friends, relatives, etc. who are known for their proclivity for extensive and often exhaustive storytelling. Whether these stories sprout up during your dinner conversation, your lunch break or your experience of that third dirty martini, they hold the potential to lull you to the brink of unconsciousness or inject you with a hearty dose of insight into the human condition. You can almost smell an “extensive and exhaustive” story from its opening words: take, for example, “Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles, son of Peleus,” or, if it’s been a while since high school Lit, “This one time, at band camp…” Whether the yarn-spinner be Homer or American Pie’s red-haired hussy-in-disguise, there exists a dangerously fine line between compelling and mind-numbing storytelling.

That being said, signing on for an 85-minute one-woman show presents the ticket-holder with a doubt or two. I’ll confess that I had my reservations. However, may it be known that Jamaica Farewell, Debra Ehrhardt’s narrative about her immigration from Manley-era Jamaica to promise-holding America, is a story worth sitting through. From the get-go, there is no uncertainty as to how the story will end: it begins in a Starbucks, which, in a journey-to-America story, signifies success as clearly as the Statue of Liberty. Like any story whose outcome is already known, it is the middle that counts. In Jamaica Farewell, the degree to which Ehrhardt fantasizes about life in America works as the comic frame and, as such, maintains the freshness of each bump along the road.

If the show has an Achilles heel, it is the possibility that its central character, an optimistic immigrant, might feel worn-out. However, Ehrhardt manages to survive that threat. Zipping across the bare stage in a pink shirt and jeans, she secures the audience’s affection with her Jamaican accent, astute physical comedy and rapid-fire jokes that manage at once to poke fun at and profess love for her home country.

Tales of immigration, and certainly those that clock in at over an hour, can rightly be termed “extensive and exhaustive.” Yet, like the bards of yore, Debra Ehrhardt possesses a rare ability to mesmerize that would have kept ancient Grecians sitting around the fire for hours.

See it if: Your facial muscles are supple enough to smile continually for 85 minutes.

Skip it if: The fact that you left your Adderall at home might present a problem.

Remaining Performances:
Saturday, July 19 @ 5:00 pm
Sunday, July 20 @ 2:00 pm
Wednesday, July 23 @ 9:00 pm
Saturday, July 26 @ Noon

She says: “A story about immigration, alienation, language and meaning, different ways of killing and dying, donuts and ants. Four years after being abandoned by their mother, two Korean-American sisters struggle with growing up. One dreams of being Alice, but Wonderland ain’t no fairy tale. Medea could have told them that.”

Sheffy’s take: When Sue Jin Song is basking in fame and success as a world-famous playwright, I will proudly brag that I remember when CapFringe premiered her virgin play back in aught-eight. Song, a suburban DC-native actress returning from the stages and studios of NYC and LA, finds her voice and makes it sing in a drama about two sisters who have lost their mother and now struggle with their identities while coping with an overbearing, taciturn father. Actually, she finds multiple voices—the perspective of the younger sister who refuses to grow up and accept responsibility, the perspective of the older sister who had responsibility thrust upon her at age 13, as she was expected to be the mother as well as the immaculate daughter. By staging in the round, the effect of multiple perspectives is further magnified by the audience.

In a story pregnant with literary metaphors ranging from Greek drama to the motherless Peter Pan who refuses to grow up, Song builds on the pathos of Medea, a princess, but also an immigrant, forced to take fateful actions when abandoned by her lover. Although the press kit (press kit!?) requested that I not spoil the plot, it was Song’s lyrical narration and dynamic acting that captivated me. As the older sister struggles for balance in her life, we meet her alter-ego who must navigate wonderland when the walls of pressure and responsibility start collapsing in. Sure, everyone needs an alter-ego every now and then, but I have to admit, I wasn’t sure how escaping to a surreal world contributed to the play’s resolution. The blurry line between her reality and fantasy obfuscated some of the plot’s intricacies.

After sweltering in other cramped, uncomfortable Fringe venues, it’s refreshing to enjoy a dedicated theater space. However, access to an arsenal of colored lights and a light board is not license to make the show feel like a rock concert. With accents, tone, and mannerisms, Song is clearly talented enough to embody each character without the help of personalized light motifs.

See it if: You love your mother.

Skip it if: You’re a budding female playwright and dramatic solo performer but you can’t handle new competition in town.