Without complaining about the very thing I’ve determined to do, I still have to admit I feel a bit daunted about writing on Mac Wellman’s unforgettable play, Murder of Crows. Without any true plot, you might describe this work as more of a linguistic fantasia than a drama peopled with interrelating characters. Although family is vaguely at the center of this play, all is more than slightly askew, as the very set suggests, where stands a porch without a house attached: “We lost the house,” suggests Nella (Anne O’Sullivan) glibly tossing out one of the hundreds of American vernacular terms with which this work engages.
Susannah: The weather is changing, the weather
The weather has got a whole wheelbarrow
full of surprises up its sleeve for us.
If it’s possible for a hat to be obscene, his
hats were obscene. I mean, They made you
think of things no sane person ought to think
of, ever. They were not good-looking American
hats, law-and-order type hats, or patriotic,
military hats, or socially eminent country
club or corporate hats.
That is, what if we contextualize
and explain the existences of
others but cannot, on pain of
infinite regress, be contextualized
or explained ourselves?