Backwards Forwards Back: The Story Made Watching a (Pretty) Play Worth It

I watched two performances of Centenary Stage Company’s Backwards Forwards Back, written by Jacqueline Goldfinger. Candidly, the idea of sitting through a solo act twice was very unappealing. Yet, after witnessing this 70-minute, intermission-less marvel just once, I found myself eagerly anticipating subsequent viewing. 

Goldfinger’s Backwards Forwards Back, which was part of Centenary’s Women Playwrights Series, served various different purposes: to entertain, to impart information, to probe the human condition, and to provide an escape. Although I wasn’t fully bought in to the production until right around the second half of the show, the story itself gave me goosebumps.

A Production Rooted in Simplicity

Entering our black box theater (Edith Kutz’s Theater), I was struck by its intimate ambiance. With a capacity of around 84, the Black Box accommodated modest audiences for Backwards Forwards Back—with around 15 attendees on both of the 8pm showings on Friday, April 12 and Saturday the 13. 

Despite the smaller turnout of audience members both nights, it didn’t detract from the performance’s authenticity; if anything, it accentuated its goal for minimalism. The production, featuring a lone performer (Bess Miller), simple costuming, and just a handful of props (a jean jacket, white shirt, cargo pants, two stools, a VR headset, photo booth photos, a reusable water bottle, and a printed certificate), didn’t demand a grandiose venue.

In fact, a larger space would have diluted the intimate conversational-style of this performance. I actually had never seen a production done this way before—so simply—just performer and audience. I was intrigued.

Set Design 

Through this production, I came to realize the resourcefulness and potential of a single flexible set design. It truly left me captivated throughout the entire production.

However, I was initially perplexed by the abstract backdrop unveiled before the show—a mosaic of pixels and hues that seemed disconnected from any discernible military motif (and, instead, it initially reminded me of Minecraft blocks). I was confused. 

I found myself consulting the production synopsis on the Centenary Stage Company (CSC) website before the show (to double check I understood the play’s context).

Then, like a bolt of clarity, it struck me: “When a soldier returns from war carrying the ghosts of their tour, they’re faced with a sobering decision: Address their alarming PTSD with Virtual Reality therapy, or risk losing access to their family forever” (CSC). Suddenly, the purpose behind the pixelated tapestry became evident: it artfully depicted the virtual reality element central to the production. Brilliant.

From that revelation on, my admiration for the set design deepened. Its singular flexibility, with the wall surprisingly opening, proved mesmerizing and thought-provoking. It was a spectacle that transported audience members somewhere new, to say the least. 

The first time the set unfurled to reveal the immersive VR experience awaiting The Soldier for their exposure therapy was absolutely a distinct “holy cow” moment. I was instantly captivated as the stage metamorphosed.

Movement, Timing, and Interaction with the Set

I also give props to Miller for their impeccable execution of movement and timing while working with a moving set and wall; not once did they falter, deftly maneuvering within the unfolding set with precision and grace. It was evident they were thoroughly prepared and knew their craft inside out, ensuring a seamless performance devoid of any mishaps.

I admired the strategic directorial choices, particularly with Miller’s interaction with the set, stage, and their own body, too. They employed various methods to convey the character’s emotions throughout the play. 

During moments of rage, fear, and panic, Miller threw themselves aggressively onto the stage, against the floor or walls, their fists clenched in anguish. It was a visceral display, deeply moving.

Additionally, The Soldier’s façade of hubris and ego was masterfully depicted by Miller’s nonchalant leaning against the set walls, adding a subtle layer to the character’s complexity, almost mimicking the trope of male-identifying people, often concealing their emotions to appear “strong.” 

What Is the Production Saying Compared to the Playwright?

I believe that this production speaks to the idea of misogynistic tendencies, almost making fun of men, and how they will choose to “not feel” in fear of it representing weakness. 

Yet, in reality, and just as The Soldier learns, emotions and vulnerability show strength. 

The playwright; however, making the main character a male (using pronouns in the script such as “he, him, his”), directly points to pent up aggression that men may face. 

This is even more apparent with Goldfinger’s choice to make the main character hit his son instead of his nephew—this plot point throws a different punch. It unveils the anger and despair that male veterans face, and how they become more likely to be aggressive or abusive after coming back from war. 

Sound Effects, Stage Imagery, and Lighting 

Not to mention, the seamless integration of sound effects with the stage imagery and lighting further enhanced the narrative experience. As The Soldier recounted stories from their past or explored virtual landscapes, the auditory backdrop complemented the visual, enriching our immersion. 

Despite the potential for distraction, Miller’s adept delivery and balanced annunciation ensured our focus remained undivided—a major skill as a performer, especially in a one-person show. 

Plus, the absence of a microphone (although suspected due to the small theater size) showcased Miller’s vocal prowess and stressed our black box’s great acoustics, ensuring every word resonated effortlessly. 

Language and Diction Reflecting Poor Casting

However, my willingness to suspend disbelief was challenged by both the language used and what I perceived as incorrect casting choices. 

In the very beginning of the play, the audience is introduced to The Soldier as they yell, “The fuckin’ politians are the problem. Shitmotherfuckershitmotherfuckershit. But you never see their ass out on the field, except for a photo shoot” (Goldfinger 6).

But, the primary problem here wasn’t so much the use of vulgar language. It was the lack of believability and cringe-worthy moments in Miller’s delivery of this language and diction. If I am being completely honest, that vulgar language felt foreign on the tongue of Miller. 

Regrettably, I must admit that a male actor would probably have handled the vulgar language and assertive vocal projection more convincingly. With this, the play gained momentum in the second half, due to the absolute removal of this strong language.

A Fusion of Set Design, Lighting, and Sound Effects

On a more positive note, The Soldier’s virtual stroll through “the neighborhood park. A familiar scene” perfectly exemplified the fusion of set design, lighting, and sound effects

Warm lights brightened the stage as they moved amidst lush trees and colorful flowers. The audience could also hear the gentle chirping of birds as we watched the screen evoking a serene tranquility both in audio and visuals, an artistically cohesive experience.

The sound design choices with the pre-show music was also masterfully executed. Transitioning from uplifting and heroic tunes to martial beats masked by tranquil melodies, it heightened anticipation, culminating in a crescendo of vibrant military drums that left me on the edge of my seat, primed for the unfolding spectacle. 

In its simplicity, the musical buildup was nothing short of genius.

As Miller ventured into the Virtual Reality (VR) landscape, the consistent “beeping” of the VR machine served as a tether to reality.

This auditory cue grounded The Soldier, aiding their navigating the VR world and managing potential panic attacks. The sound not only signaled their transition between realities but also provided clarity for the audience, delineating their presence within or outside the virtual realm.

Props, Actions, and Movement

Furthermore, the integration of symbolic props, actions, and movements in Backwards Forwards Back was executed with precision. 

As previously mentioned, Miller adeptly utilized minimal props throughout the performance—two stools, a jean jacket, a reusable water bottle, photo booth pictures, a VR headset, and a printed certificate. Miller’s manipulation of these simple props was purposeful when paired with symbolic movements.

Miller’s interaction with the reusable water bottle prop, for instance, although seemingly insignificant at first glance was a pivotal part of the play; it pointed to themes of reality while emphasizing to not take simple things (such as drinking water) for granted. 

The Soldier often took sips from the water bottle after jarring experiences in VR to ground themselves.

The script states, “And just like in the desert, Doc says take frequent breaks and drink lots of water. (drinks from water bottle)” (Goldfinger 22). 

Miller here emphasizes this seemingly small action with the use of a very simple prop. Using symbolic props and actions such as “drinking” from the water bottle indicates the character grounding themselves, achieving an alienation or distancing effect with the object and movements in the scene. 

This scene also allowed Miller to skillfully radiate very impactful underlying meanings—the interplay of reality, virtual reality, and imagination. 

After The Soldier swigs their water bottle, they say, “Look, I’m not, ‘immune,’ as Doc says, to the irony that I’m learning to live in the real world by interacting with a fake one. But this virtual world, Doc says, is real to my mind, my body…” (Goldfinger 22). 

They first acknowledge the humor behind using fake reality as a tool to live in the real world.  They also point out their awareness that although their PTSD episodes aren’t truly rooted in reality, like their water bottle is, they feel as real as anything else. Through this, the Soldier wavers on breaking the fourth wall, which I thought was very cool!

Every Word Counts

Backwards Forwards Back as a whole clearly presents a compelling narrative with potent motifs. The dialogue is strikingly realistic and engaging. I could tell it resonated deeply with the other audience members as I looked around at everyone’s captivated expressions both nights. 

The Centenary Stage Company website showcases a quote from a Backwards Forwards Back “observer” that completely encompasses my feelings. 

It states, “Goldfinger’s dialog is razor-sharp; her storytelling laser-focused. Every word counts here... Backwards Forwards Back reminds you that warriors are people…” 

The End Is a Cliffhanger, but I Liked It

I am typically not one for cliffhangers, but for Backwards Forwards Back, I’ll give it a pass. In fact, it was really the culmination of the play that had me in awe of the story.

The optimistic yet ambiguous ending leaves a lasting impact, offering a sense of closure while leaving the resolution open to interpretation. As The Soldier approaches their sister’s front door, the scene is a beautiful picture: “The front door is bright green. The color of faith, renewal (doorbell rings) (he stands, waiting for the door to be answered)” (Goldfinger 33). It’s a moment of profound description and anticipation, a very fitting conclusion.

The Big Setback of the Production 

All in all, while I thoroughly enjoyed the story of this production and the simplicity of the set and sound design was incredibly appealing, at times, watching it unfold as a performance felt slightly awkward. This awkwardness, I presume, is due to a feeling that I mentioned in terms of  language and diction, a feeling  I can’t shake—that Miller might not have been the best fit for the role.

Despite their undeniable talent as an actor, they, as a person, don’t quite embody this character. Their portrayal frankly seemed somewhat mismatched, lacking the innate and necessary grit and intensity a person playing this role would need.

To put it in perspective, imagine Elyse Myers playing a war veteran—her portrayal might be impressive due to her theater background, but would ultimately feel forced and unnatural due to a clear mismatch of casting. 

Although I was engrossed in the gripping narrative that Miller delivered, I found it challenging to fully invest in Miller’s portrayal of The Soldier. 

Perhaps, this story would resonate more effectively as a published book, allowing readers to immerse themselves in the intricacies of the plot without the distractions of specific casting—leaving it up to the imagination (in my imagination Sarah Paulson or John Cena would play The Soldier). A movie would also work for this story, but it would absolutely call for more characters rather than just one.

One Final Note 

Here’s the thing, Backwards Forwards Back was part of Centenary’s Women Playwrights Series, which is quite beautiful and amazing (if you ask me). However, I must admit, I’m a bit puzzled. 

Why would our talented female playwright Goldfinger here choose to craft such a poignant story specifically for the Women’s Playwright Series, only to center it around a male protagonist? What the heck! And to add to the confusion, Centenary Stage Company ended up casting a non-binary cast member, Bess Miller, for the lead role. It raises questions, doesn’t it? 

This discrepancy between the playwright’s intention, the character’s gender, and the casting choice has prompted me to contemplate gender representation in storytelling and in the theater industry (and you might now, too).

But, as we reflect together on a production that skillfully advocates for veterans’ mental health, I’ll leave you with a quote encapsulating the essence of resilience and perseverance, regardless of the medium through which it’s conveyed: “In recovery, we remind each other B.F.B. Backwards Forwards Back. That’s how recovery goes. Sometimes you slip backwards, then you’ve got to work to move forwards and then you’ll slip back again. It’s a tango of the will. It will challenge your spirit. Your body. Your sanity. But it’s a dance worth doing. Because it ends with you getting your life back” (Goldfinger 32-33).