Though it has flaws in terms of pacing and repetition, the new musical adaptation of Girl, Interrupted at the Public, based on Susanna Kaysen’s 1993 memoir, is a heart-wrenching portrayal of surviving mental illness. Pulitzer Prize-winner Martina Majok’s book feelingly depicts Susanna’s struggles with suicidal tendencies and her two-year residency at a mental facility in late 1960s Boston. The country’s collective nervous breakdown over civil rights and Vietnam parallels the psychological battles taking place within Susanna and her fellow patients. The title derives from a Vermeer painting “Girl Interrupted at Her Music.” Susanna obsesses over the work which she encountered during a visit to the Frick Museum with her high-school English teacher who may or may have been sexually inappropriate with her. She identifies with the girl in the painting since they both are interrupted at pursuing their full potential.
Juliana Canfield in Girl, Interrupted.
Credit: Joan Marcus
Issues of sexism are also addressed as her therapist dismisses her ambitions of becoming a writer (“No one is a writer”) and advocates a career for her as a dental technician. (Susanna is finally released when she accepts a proposal of marriage, but later fulfills her literary dreams.) There is only one male actor (a versatile Manoel Felciano), listed as “The Male Presence” who represents the restrictions of the patriarchal society. Majok emphasizes the bond developed between the protagonist and the other inmates. Their shared experiences of trauma and misogyny and feelings of oppression provide a strong connection. One of the most moving scenes involves Susannah and her friends visiting a patient in the violent ward. You can feel their hearts breaking at the degraded state of their former wardmate (she has smeared the walls of her cell with her own excrement), but also the fear that they could slip this far down.
Ta'Rea Campell, Juliana Canfield and
Lauren Jeanne Thomas in
Girl, Interrupted.
Crdit: Joan Marcus
Aimee Mann’s songs starkly evoke the period of the late 1960s, mixing folk-rock with soft-pop, Bacharach-like melodies. Her poetic lyrics chart the strange, far country the young men are trekking through. “Now you’re split in two/And each side isn’t you” they sing as they contemplate their interior conflicts.
Director Jo Bonney’s staging is fluid, facilitated by the flexible set by the design team dots and the scene-shifting lighting by Heather Gilbert. Sarah Laux’s costumes subtly denote character such as a frilly mini-skirt for the flirtatious Daisy or radical rags for the rebellious Lisa. But, on the negative side, there are several slowly-paced sequences and many of the women’s stories are too similar, though the actresses including Gabi Campo, Mia Pak, Katherine Reis, and Sally Shaw do their best to provide differentiation.
Katherine Reis, Mia Pak, Juliana Canfield,
Gabi Campo, King Princess, and Sally Shaw
in Girl, Interrupted.
Credit: Joan Marcus
The entire cast is exemplary. Constantly on stage, Juliana Canfield as Susannah carries the weight of the show on her slender shoulders and delivers a bravura performance, expressively conveying the young woman’s descent into irrationality and her valiant fight to regain her sanity. King Princess is fiery and funny as the defiant Lisa, the role which won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for Angelina Jolie in the 1999 movie version.
Ta’Rea Campbell has several forceful moments as the compassionate nurse Valerie, expressing her divided emotions between sympathy for the young women and responsibility to perform her unpleasant job. Emily Skinner is properly starchy as Susanna’s no-nonsense British therapist. Lauren Jeanne Thomas is delightfully naive as an eager student nurse. She also ably doubles on the bass, flute and violin, along with Felciano who plays the guitar, bass and violin. Andrea Grody is the proficient music director and plays keys and guitar. There are slow patches, but over all, this Girl is a vibrant one.
June 4—July 12. Public Theater, 425 Lafayette St., NYC. Running time: 110 minutes with no intermission. publictheater.org.

























