The Verge – 03 November 2026
Vibrant and verdant, imbued with a twisted, organic energy, Susan Glaspell’s The Verge explores how people should handle the gift of a lifetime. Her protagonist, Claire Archer (Miriam Silverman) is fully liberated from the surrounding world— so, naturally, everyone chalks her creative streak up to a kind of madness (the unspoken word that was commonplace at the time is “hysteria”). Claire looks at the world and sees myriad possibilities or growth, change, and the creation of new life. The passion in Silverman’s performance explodes onto the scene like a ray of light. Nurturing herself like she nurtures her plants, Claire doesn’t care much for the company of others, even though she is surrounded by people who love her and are concerned about her wellbeing.
The metaphors run deep in Glaspell’s writing, and while the intricate layers of meaning are delightful to those who can follow it, to others the language is obtuse at times. Because of the way Claire’s enthusiasm bursts through these layers into a heightened state of consciousness, she can be simultaneously enrapturing and difficult to fully understand. Glaspell does this on purpose; she is suggesting that men (for the cast of the show is almost entirely men) don’t take the time to fully understand women before trying to change them. She goes further into the intimation that people tend to fear what they don’t understand.
Claire’s obsession is with creating life, but not in the usual way— she is inventing a new species of flower, which she calls “breath of life”. This is really all about making sure the measured breaths of her life aren’t wasted by accepting the parameters of who she is laid out for her by men; she wants to push beyond the confines of her existence and play God. Like a plant or a vine, she grows wildly, seeking out her own pleasure only and cutting off anything that doesn’t bring her joy. The lesson in her story is that it is more important to pursue happiness than to fit into society’s boxes. At times, the box idea is taken literally, with characters boxed into the greenhouse while others are on the outside trying to get in.
As far as the show goes, the performers are all excellent at leaning into the respective archetypes so that Silverman can fully be seen as wild in contrast. The scenic (Lawrence E. Moten III) design brings the space to life— especially the set of the greenhouse for the first act, which is utterly alive with plants and vines. Lighting (Amith Chandrashaker) was simply ravishing. Costumes (Sarita P. Fellows) made bold choices and sound (Bailey Trierweiler) left nothing to be desired.
Getting tangled up in The Verge is a highly enjoyable adventure for those open to the idea that it is healthy for a woman to want more from her life, even if the ways she goes about it seem obsessive and odd. It is denying her the opportunity to live freely that drives her into madness, not her own intellect, beliefs, and desires. The story, performance, and production are all top notch. Susan Glaspell would be proud.
I attended this performance on a press pass from The Public Theater.
