TINY TOT MYSTIC
The evening consists of three monologues, delivered by three unrelated characters. The first, “North Shore Girl Temporary Baffled,” features a woman who has lost her ability to smile. Joni smiled for 32 years and complimented people on this and that because it was the nice thing to do. Then a conjunction of influences–a philosophy class and the funeral of a friend’s mother–robs Joni of her smile. Soon, however, Joni discovers that her friends are trying not to smile so much either. They’re imitating her, or what they suppose to be her maturity, just the way her friends used to emulate her in high school. What a relief. The monologue concludes with Joni trying to shape her mouth into something, anything, saying, “Once more my popularity is reconfirmed. I’m so happy.”
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On the surface, O’Connell’s three characterizations seem distinct. Joni is prim and restrained, remains seated the entire time, and keeps her hands clasped and her legs crossed and locked in the rungs of the stool. Lulu (by way of contrast more than anything else) is altogether spunky; she constantly fiddles with her clothes and acts half her age. Maureen bridges these two extremes, seeming more casual than restrained, and somewhat fidgety but not hyperactive. Not only that, Maureen lives in Old Town, which lands her smack between her North Shore and South Shore cohorts. They’re all sisters under the skin, and they all have the same story to tell. Which leads me to believe that O’Connell is engaging in little more than an exercise in self-actualization. OK, I’m glad she’s in touch with her humanity, but what’s that got to do with me? I didn’t know therapy was a spectator sport.
