There is a sad irony in hearing that a play about repairing relationships and rescuing people from racist ideologies through listening was shut down at a New Jersey high school less than 10 minutes into its performance, with silencing standing in opposition the act of hearing. The play’s title? Rift, or White Lies.
Currently in production at Luna Stage in West Orange NJ, playwright Gabriel Jason Dean’s Rift is the story of two half-brothers’ encounters while one is incarcerated, and their meetings after a long silence resulting from the convicted brother’s embrace of white supremacy. It is a strongly autobiographical story, echoing that of Dean and his own half-brother, who, as Dean explains in a playwright’s note, was sentenced to life in prison plus 40 years for murder and other felony charges in 2000.
The presentation at Montclair High was only to be of one scene of the play, its third, accompanied by discussion of the issues within it. Luna Stage artistic director Ari Laura Kreith, who commissioned and directed the production, said that the company approached several schools about bringing students to the show, but the offer to bring the show to Montclair High was a unique offer, as the school doesn’t typically have the funds to arrange school buses for field trips; the company also solicited outside funds to cover their expenses for taking the two-actor play to Montclair. Montclair High accepted Luna Stage’s opportunity, with a local news outlet reporting that it was targeted for students in the school’s Center for Social Justice program (CSJ) and the Civics and Government institute (CGI).
In an email chain with Montclair educators in advance of the school presentation, Kreith included a detailed synopsis of the play, as well as a content note regarding the scene which included: “White supremacy, physical violence (including a discussion of violence and staged injuries—no physical violence takes place on stage), mention of sexual violence (discussion/not staged), prison, discussion/examples of racism and sexism.”
Kreith was on hand for the Montclair presentation of Rift’s scene three, and verbally provided the same notice previously given to teachers in writing for the assembled students and teachers. Recalling the day, Kreith said, “I introduced the whole piece as being about a character who had become a white supremacist while in prison, and that the other character has choosen not to speak to his brother for 12 year and then resumes contact.”
Referencing Dean, who was interviewed with her, Kreith continued, “I talked about you in 2020 and your sense that maybe the moral thing to do was not to shut your brother out, but to attempt to re-engage and try to see what could be accomplished by listening and talking. I definitely talked about how he became a white supremacist in prison that the piece was about your journey to try and to shift that.”
Despite the advance cautions, Kreith describes a series of rapid events unfolding in the span of perhaps ten minutes once the scene began by her account, the timing corroborated by the participating actors. An email request to Jeffrey Freeman, the school’s principal, for an interview received no response.
Very quickly after the start, Kreith says that someone came to get her saying the performance needed to stop and bringing her straight to the principal. According to Kreith, one teacher believed that the actors had spoken the n-word from the stage and raised an alarm, though the play does not contain the epithet. When the teacher spoke with Kreith and Freeman and was assured they had misheard, they seemed satisfied.
Nonetheless, when Kreith returned to the auditorium, she almost immediately witnessed a different faculty member getting on to the stage in order to stop the show. Matt Monaco, playing the character referenced in the script as the “inside brother,” recalled the moment saying, “Blake [Stadnik, playing the outside brother] and I are in the middle of the scene. It’s getting to the point where we are starting to get into a deep conversation about James Baldwin. The scene ends in a type of catharsis. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to get there. But we were working our way towards that and the teacher jumped on the stage and is filled with some passion and concern. She says, ‘I’m sorry, we need to stop.’ Blake and I exited the theater out into the hallway.”
Stadnik described the moment adding a personal detail, saying “I’m actually legally blind. When I’m on stage, really, the only person I have any semblance of seeing is Matt. So I’m very focused on him. But you can kind of feel when the audience is there with you. You could tell that there were several students – I mean, many actually more than several – who were sitting forward, engaging. When it was stopped, I was just confused. I wanted to make sure that because I can’t see it, I wanted to make sure everyone was okay, because we are dealing with some intense topics. And if anyone has experienced these sorts of things in real life, I wanted to make sure that they weren’t having any sort of traumatic event.”
Monaco concurred with his impression of the student response, saying, “I was feeling quite moved and touched by the active listening. I’ve performed for high school students before and this was a completely different experience. They were engaged. And I even looked at some of them, eye to eye. They were in it.”
Monaco said that the teacher who had mounted the stage continued to speak after the actors had exited into the hallway, but that only partially hearing what was being said, and prompted by a student who came into the hallway to express upset over what had happened, he felt compelled to return to the stage.
“I was driven to walk out there,” he describes, “and just apologize for any confusion or concern that may have entered the room. I apologized to her. I said, ‘I’m sorry for barging in here. I just want to tell everybody what this play’s about, where this was going.’ I couldn’t leave that way. I had to go back out there and explain what this what this play is about and where we were headed before we were silenced.”
Kreith said at that point she and the actors were told they must leave and did so. It’s her understanding that conversation may have continued in the auditorium, but she and the actors were not privy to it.
Subsequent to the presentation and its abrupt cutoff, Luna Stage has offered complimentary tickets to any Montclair High students wishing to see the entirety of Rift, and she says that several have begun to take her up on her offer. The two actors, Kreith and Dean, in conversation, were clearly struggling with the experience.
Kreith immediately attributed the problems to a lack of communication. She believes that while the email chain arranging the presentation included a number of teachers, not all of those who brought their students on Monday were part of that communication. Kreith suggested that the cutoff came from “a moment of panic.” They agreed that what has happened must be an opportunity, as the presentation intended, to open up communication both on the topic of the play and for opportunities like their presentation to remain available at the high school.
After listening to the actors and director recount the experience, Dean, who was not present at the school and relied on various reports, including one on a local news site, said his perspective on the incident had changed.
“I’ve moved from my anger to having sympathy for this person. This person who’s an educator who is –in the time that we’re living in, in the in the in the world that we’re living in – struggling with what kinds of conversations can I am I allowed to have with these kids? The idea of suddenly having to contend with white supremacy, childhood abuse, trauma – all of that puts that body in a place of fear puts, that body in a constricted place, rather than an embracing place. So I can understand that. But at the same time, if we could have gotten to the end of the scene, perhaps some catharsis could have occurred.” Both Dean and Kreith were emphatic that what transpired should not provoke a situation where teachers or administrators are demonized or penalized, only that something positive come out of a difficult moment.
The Luna Stage cohort has, to date, not been told exactly why the performance was stopped, but what is evident from their retelling is that while the school admirably chose to bring in work that raised important issues, it appears to have not properly contextualized that work in advance for students and teachers, resulting in misunderstanding and silencing. The school now has a responsibility for transparently addressing what occurred and making certain that the shutting down of ideas, on the page or in performance, doesn’t become an accepted part of their pedagogy. Better internal communication between the administration and teachers is essential.
Nonetheless, even in truncated form, Rift made a connection that showed the students were more than mature enough to handle the content. Kreith shared one email she received from a student, which read in part, “I saw part of the performance yesterday while in school and was very disappointed when it was abruptly stopped. I feel like the play reflects the reality of the world we live in, I thought the actors were great, and overall I really enjoyed the part of the performance we got to see. A group of us would like to see the show Sunday at 3:00pm. I don’t know exactly how many people yet, but I thought I would just reach out to make sure there are seats available. Apologies on behalf of my teachers for cutting your performance short and thank you for allowing us the opportunity to see what we missed.”
While his half-brother may not know about the incident at Montclair High, he is fully embracing of the play. Dean related, “He sent the guys an opening night message, to say, thank you, thank you for this work.”
As for his brother’s white supremacist beliefs, Dean says, “He has moved away from it. He’s moved away from the ideology, and he’s moved away specifically from acts of violence in prison. The rift that existed between us has been mended as a result of this project, of writing this play. The play leaves us with ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow,’ but he knows about it and has been changed by it as have I.”
