Sheltered – Broken Women; Broken System- Outstanding Theater

Homelessness in New York City has reached the highest level since the Great Depression of the 1930s. November 2024, 128,849 people slept each night in NYC shelters. Coalition for the Homeless cites lack of affordable housing as the primary reason, but mental illness, substance abuse and house-of-cards collapse after loss of employment are contributing factors.
Playwright Cate Wiley has combined true stories with embroidery of one of our sorriest situations. Ensemble work reminds one of Liz Swados’ oeuvre. The piece is neither a polemic nor a sob story. Women of varying backgrounds show pride, aspiration, and frustration as well as instability or resignation. That anyone might find herself in this state is dramatically highlighted. The subplot of a daughter in search of her emotionally wounded mom unifies vignettes.

Kim Yancy (Penelope)
The stage is pitch black. “You see me or you don’t. I’m here at the corner of your eye. I might be wearing two or three pairs of pants or no pants at all. I’m here. Just like you…” A lighter, then candle illuminates. The marvelous Almeria Campbell acts as narrator as well as inhabiting Cassie, victim of a pendulum swing from irrational to perceptive. The actress also sings and moves distinctively.
We’re in a church basement where cots, coffee and donuts are provided. (The Salvation Army doesn’t take women). Volunteer attendant Martha (Jess Salguerio) jolts awake. Among regulars, she notes a new occupant who’s well spoken, better dressed, and clearly unaccustomed to her surroundings. “I’m so stiff. I need to find a yoga class,” Penelope (Kim Yancey, excellent throughout) offhandedly comments. There’s no sense she feels superior.
When Cassie breaks into manic song and dance waking everyone, it’s Penelope who talks her down. It seems their new roommate is “A.B.D” = all but dissertation away from a graduate school psyche degree, though no less in need than her peers. Cops are called to restrain Cassie. Martha is told they can’t take her to hospital unless she’s arrested. There’s nowhere for a homeless person to go till morning. Martha shows police a photo of her missing mom, Helen (credibly angry Monica Steuer.)

The women share stories of spiraling. One (excellent Madelyn Chapman) does laundry at her daughter’s house but refuses to move in. “I’m supposed to be taking care of them!” Another describes free sample days at grocery stores. A third comments that there are drivers who leave women alone on buses or subways- though men often want to collect at the end of the line. Many have jobs which can’t support them. Attempts at registering for aid are buried in bureaucracy. Past mistakes are raised.
It’s best to stay unseen. One is less likely to be robbed or raped. “Your whole life becomes one big game of hide and seek, except it’s not a game.” Weapons fall out of pockets. “You either stop talking, or start talking to yourself.” Helen purposefully slips away again and again until…Resolutions remain elusive or hard won.

Two appearances by a fur-clad young woman (Kassandra Cruz) wishing to donate bags of designer clothes (evidently not accepted at shelters?) are the only incidents that don’t seem to fit.
The superb cast also includes mercurial Claudia Thiedman and Joyah Dominique.
Director Liz Peterson has as fine tuned a sense of composition as she does body language and character. All three combine to offer a master class. Set pieces and possessions are employed effectively. Peterson knows when to simmer and when to flare. Timing is superb.
Josh Barilla’s Scenic Design- a row of challenging chairs that could take their place at The Whitney Biennial; Nic Vincent’s evocative and precise Lighting; A.M. De Vito’s unnerving Sound Design; and Costumes by Jasmine Lewis that speak to time and lack of possible care all contribute to the authentic look and feel of pathos.
Photos by Carol Rosegg
Opening: Kassandra Cruz, Madelyn Chapman, Claudia Thiedmann, Almeria Campbell, Joyah Dominique, Kim Yancey and Monica Steuer
Sheltered by Cate Wiley
Directed by Liz Peterson
Through February 9, 2025
the cell theatre 338 West 23rd Street
http://www.thecelltheatre.org/