Words matter. And in Jacqueline Bircher’s Webster’s Bitch, they truly cut deep. From Disney evoking its First Amendment right to fire actor Gina Carano over hateful social media posts to J.K. Rowling’s damaging and backward stance against trans lives, is it even worth it to ask if words have no impact on the world around us? The latest show at Keegan Theatre has an answer: bitch, please.
Webster’s Bitch begins in a routine administrative office in Stamford, Connecticut. Lexicographers at Webster’s Dictionary Gwen (Fabiolla Da Silva) and Nick (Andrés F. Roa) are on a tight deadline, only to be distracted by a visit from prototypical Gen Z-er, Gwen’s sister Ellie (Irene Hamilton). Feeling neglected by Gwen’s work ethic, Ellie has only two goals in mind: Drink margaritas and say goodbye to her sister before heading to Nepal to advocate for women’s health care. Hamilton’s comic abilities are a piquant match for the otherwise stoic lexicographers. Breaking news on Ellie’s Twitter feed, however, reveals the real drama when Webster’s editor-in-chief Frank (Timothy H. Lynch) is caught on video referring to his colleague Joyce (Sheri S. Herren) as “his bitch.” At this point, the play somersaults into a debate worthy of the “front lines of radical internet feminism.”
Attempting to solve their unfolding PR dilemma, these characters do what any great lexicographer would. They turn to the dictionary. The trouble is Webster’s definition of “bitch” doesn’t quite fit the context of Frank’s statement (what is the difference between “a bitch” versus “my bitch”?), prompting further questions about who gets to define a term, who gets to use that term, and finally, on whose terms does anyone get to do either?
Under Susan Marie Rhea’s musing yet quirky direction, Webster’s Bitch examines the role of language in everyday power dynamics. The play dances between a workplace comedy (“Wait, you’ve never read Harry Potter?”) and a thesis on feminist linguistics (“An entire subset of the English language has evolved under the predication that it’s inherently offensive to be a woman.”). Yet, well-developed characters and candid dialogue give the actors plenty of great material to draw from—always a delight to see. The initial conflict is reminiscent of Selina Fillinger’s POTUS, in which seven women cope with the aftermath of the President of the United States referring to his wife as a “cunt.” But all vulgarities aside, Webster’s Bitch trades POTUS’s hijinks for a more nuanced interrogation of what such words and actions actually mean for and about the women they refer to.
Matthew J. Keenan and Cindy Landrum Jacobs bedeck an otherwise stationary yet detailed set with cascades of dictionary pages. Like the work of the lexicographers who seek to rapidly adapt the dictionary’s terms to a changing social climate, these pages reach continual heights, somehow always out of reach. The constant ringing of an office landline further threatens this pigeonholed oasis, bringing Webster’s Dictionary into the likes of a tabloid scandal.
Cunning linguists as they are, each character is under constant threat of manipulation, but only some are bold enough to speak the truth aloud. Clear and concise subtext can service a play in unexpected ways and this is no better demonstrated than with Joyce, an assertive albeit harsh woman who faced years of serial harassment in the workplace only to be publicly belittled at the apex of her career. Then there’s Gwen, a cat-loving careerist who can’t seem to give herself the credit she so desperately desires from others. When, even amid the chaos of the scandal, Gwen demands equal pay from Joyce to that of a man-identifying coworker, these women’s nose-to-nose stakes are as cringe-inducing as they are applause-worthy.
Webster’s Bitch aims to unpack a linguistic conundrum, but at times feels like an overextended metaphor. The plot tends to spring for cliches, but Bircher’s refreshingly intergenerational dynamic solicits just the right amount of discord and camaraderie (not to mention sprachgefühl—the German word for an intuitive love and feel for language) to truly wonder why these women would choose to leave or stay at Webster’s. Unlike most representations of onstage misogyny, Bircher’s play is a woman-navigated consideration of toxic masculinity in the workplace—a topic that often gets swept under the rug with an apology; here it becomes etched in stone. Without a definitive ending, Keegan’s production invites audiences to consider what lies ahead for the women we’ve met, rather than dwell in verbose consequences for a soon-to-be inconsequential man.
Webster’s Bitch, written by Jacqueline Bircher and directed by Susan Marie Rhea, runs through May 5 at Keegan Theatre. keegantheatre.com. $45–$55.
