‘Is This a Room’ Finds Its Script in a Transcript

Don’t call a show unforgettable — except maybe this one. A blistering real-life drama built on an FBI transcript, Is This a Room runs through Sunday (3/23) at Harlequin Productions in Olympia. 

Stripped. That’s all I could think as I watched three federal agents summarily separate their 25-year-old suspect from her house keys, her car keys, her phone. Her groceries. Her dog. Her cat.

It’s the tense few moments of the innovative, true-to-transcript drama, Is This a Room, on stage now at Harlequin Productions. The blistering 75-minute show doesn’t lighten up from there.

The strangely titled drama gets its name from an offhand remark one of this spartan show’s four characters makes, in a tone somewhere between incredulous and mocking, about the state of their suspect’s digs — in particular, a small dark room where the agents would go on to (totally voluntarily!) interrogate her. They had to go somewhere split off from the rest of the house before the other swarm of agents descended to search it (the warrant’s on the way, we swear!).

A quick nod to my past life for reference: once upon a time I went to law school; I worked on federal criminal appeals, I’ve watched interrogation videos, and I’ve read a ton of transcripts. Literally nothing about this show surprised me. But it did leave me aghast, reminded of just how intense, confusing, and purposely messy our real-life stages — the ones that determine real-life outcomes — are for their real-life targets. Is This a Room is a very revealing show-and-tell: the agents may look like dodos, they may understand just where you’re coming from, they may be sweet dog-loving people, they may be just trying to help, they may be losing patience with you, they may be all of those things. But every last bit of it is strategic. And you won’t see their playbook until the game’s over.

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Reading an actual transcript for this actual case, show creator and original director Tina Satter decided it read an awful lot like theatre. She’s right. The FBI transcript, and Satter’s vision for it, makes for a hell of a show. Under Artistic Director Aaron Lamb’s direction, Harlequin’s staging does the drama full justice. The design team — principally with set by Jeannie Beirne, lights by Savannah Van Leuvan, and sound by Keith Jewell, together with costumes by Melanie Ransom and props by Dan Wolff — conspires to keep this setup both bright and bleak, burning with intensity; it’s at once abstract and immediate. It doesn’t feel real, which makes it all the more jarring to keep remembering every word, pause, and redaction is documented.

The three agents set a convincing trap, with actors Matt Shimkus, Scott C. Brown, and Ann Flannigan gamely playing (and occasionally rotating) good cop, bad cop, and somewhere in between. Shimkus, in particular, is terrific at gaining trust as a bumbling, apologetic confidant, whose focus periodically turns laser-like.

Actor Olivia Finkelstein gives human dimension to the suspect, the memorably (and in this case ironically) named Reality Winner, as she’s blindsided by uniforms and guns and questions. She’s caught off guard (juggling bags of groceries outside her home when she’s approached); acquiescent (in a way so compliant with the uniforms, you have to wonder if her years in the service under chains of command leapt into play); and seemingly concerned only for the welfare of her animals, a rescue dog (who doesn’t like men) and a skittish cat (who might bolt out the front door at any time). She fumbles for points of reference. She hopes this is all a mistake — despite some red-flag indicators that the agents have done their homework. (They already know, for example, that the assault rifle they expect to find among her home stash is a pink one.) She’s also short-sighted: she wonders who will take care of her dog in case she’s hauled into custody for a day or two. That’s probably what got her (and so many others) in trouble in the first place.

This staging of real-life drama gives a glimpse of the lawmen’s playbook. Winner is never read her rights, and she doesn’t have to be; that’s why the couple of mentions of your voluntary cooperation (question for yourself how voluntary this setup is) is so important. She’s not under arrest. She’s free to go. In theory. And they’re not going to pause the conversation until the search warrant arrives because they’ve got her where they want her: surprised, in the moment, and with no time to reflect or strategize. You’ve heard the saying, “Stay ready so you don’t have to get ready”? Winner’s a cautionary tale.

With a note in the program, Harlequin expressly resists the audience’s natural urge to jump to the next stage (And then what happened?), declining to tell the rest of Winner’s story. That’s the right move. To feel the heat of this single dramatic exchange — which the transcript-as-script more or less demands — we need to be in the moment. It’s a chance so rarely afforded with easy access to information, recaps, and replays (thanks, internet). And by the gasps and murmurs, a successful one; this is the most participatory audience I’ve ever sat with, in a show that never expressly invites it.

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You won’t catch me calling a show “unforgettable,” a term that’s got to be the most overused, meaningless descriptor in the marketer’s lexicon of today. But for this one, predicting a forever impression just might be a good bet. Harlequin’s Is This a Room is among the best shows I’ve seen in years.

With its bright, unnatural lighting exposing the underbelly of today’s “justice” system, Is This a Room almost dares you to forget what you just saw. Good luck with that. I’ve forgotten what I had for lunch, what I watched on TV last night, what I did last week, and probably every single show that’s been pitched as “unforgettable.” Harlequin’s Is This a Room is seared on my brain, and that’s a good thing. Forget Winner’s ordeal at your peril.

Is This a Room runs through 3/23 at Harlequin Productions in Olympia. Tickets here. Accessibility notes: main downstairs restrooms are gendered and multi-stall; one accessible gender-neutral single-stall restroom is located on the main level near house left. Theatre and most common areas are wheelchair accessible.

Run time: 75 minutes, no intermission  

Chase D. Anderson is Editor & Producer of NWTheatre.org.