When Kate first told me about Bird House the play was so young it did not have a name yet. We had collaborated previously a couple of times, so I already knew her penchant for writing impossibilities. She had already presented me with the challenges of staging a sentient shadow, a woman turning into a tree, and a young couple flying into the sky. I had already come to treasure every curve ball she throws into her plays.
When she mentioned to me that she had begun to write a new play, I was already excited. I asked, “Do impossible things happen?” She giggled and confessed, “A bird flies out of a girl’s mouth!” I replied: “Bring it.”
Bird House is packed with impossibilities, too numerous and fantastic to list. But more exciting still is the story these impossible things spell out and the questions they beg of us. The play explores tragedies wrought by war and by time. It wants to know: what is the best way to grow up? Is there a way to grow up without being hurt and hurting others? How do we reconcile the call of the unknown with our commitments to those we love at home?
Bird House tells the story of a handful of people who, like everyone, have to learn things the hard way. And with lessons safely stowed in a back pocket, all we can do is pick up the pieces and bury the dead, do the laundry and maybe apologize to the neighbors, and reconcile all the impossible things that went ahead and happened just the same.
