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Feminist Performance Criticism and the Popular: Reviewing Wendy Wasserstein Jill Dolan With Wendy Wasserstein’s untimely, early death from cancer in 2006 at the age of 55, critics mourned the passing of a woman hailed as one of the most successful female playwrights on Broadway. But when her most successful play, The Heidi Chronicles, was produced in 1989, I was among a number of U.S. feminist critics who decried Wasserstein’s canonization, and hastened to point out the play’s numerous political faults. Heidi was portrayed as a cipher, I argued, a passive observer who called herself a humanist rather than a feminist, even while she suffered the discriminations of her gender. Wasserstein wasn’t feminist, I charged; she was homophobic; she was an upper- middle-class Manhattanite whom the press anointed to speak for women because of her cynicism about contemporary feminism. The Heidi Chronicles, I insisted, actually belittles and dismisses the very movement it pretends to archive.1 Its form—realist comedy—and its context—Broadway and subsequently American regional theatres— meant a priori that the play was ideologically corrupt and had nothing useful to say to or about feminism. But the news of Wasserstein’s death prompted me to rethink my harsh critique of her work, as well as my disparagement of the mainstream-oriented, liberal feminist playwriting she represented. Here was a woman who had been embraced by the American theatre establishment. She was one of the few women playwrights to open a play directly on Broadway—An American Daughter in 1997—for which she received Jill Dolan is jointly appointed as Professor of English and of Theatre and Dance at Princeton University. She is the author of Utopia in Performance: Finding Hope at Theatre (University of Michigan Press), as well as three other books and numerous essays and articles about feminist and lesbian theatre and performance, theatre and social change, and performance and civic engagement. Her critical study of Wendy Wasserstein is contracted with the Michigan Modern Dramatists series. Dolan is a past presi- dent of the Association for Theatre in Higher Education (ATHE), and a past president of the Women and Theatre Program, also of ATHE. Her blog, “The Feminist Spectator,” can be accessed at www. feministspectator.blogspot.com. I’d like to thank Theatre Journal’s editors, Catherine Schuler and David Saltz, and the anonymous reviewer they solicited, for their careful reading of a draft of this essay. I’d also like to thank Stacy Wolf for her important critical input. 1 See especially my book, Presence and Desire: Gender, Sexuality, Performance (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1993), where I launched this argument at length. 2 See my post on The Feminist Spectator blog, available at http://feministspectator.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_ archive.html, “Wendy Wasserstein, In Memoriam,” 30 January 2006, www.feministspectator.blogspot.com (accessed March 31, 2008). See also Chris Jones’s obituary, “Wendy Wasserstein, 1950–2006,” Chicago Tribune, available at http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-0601310160jan31,1,6185610.story, 31 January 2006. Theatre Journal 60 (2008) 433–457 © 2008 by The Johns Hopkins University Press 434 / Jill Dolan the largest advance ever, at that point, extended to a straight play. Yet I and other feminist critics had only disparaged her writing and her prominence, assigning her to the ranks of the co-opted and the assimilated, to the liberalism of those who sell out to established systems like the meritocracy of mainstream American theatre without trying to challenge or change them. When she died, I found myself acknowledging that Wasserstein’s aim had never been revolution, but instead, to show women in some of their complex humanity, to create “universal meanings” on the basis of “women’s experience.”2 Was this really such a bad thing? While I wouldn’t at this point repudiate my arguments with The Heidi Chronicles, I’m interested in why Wasserstein’s plays have been so popular. Prompted by theatre scholars Susan Bennett and David Román, and their work on popular theatre, I am thinking about liberal feminist playwrights as popular playwrights who, by virtue of their appeal to wide audiences, are not taken seriously by some academics and schol- ars. I am now considering how their work in mainstream forums has perhaps helped, rather than hindered, certain feminist progress. Critically reviewing Wasserstein’s work has also led me to revise my thinking about the usefulness of parsing “the feminisms.” My larger contention here is that the assumptions of feminist performance criticism might profitably be revised as we approach the end of the century’s first decade. As capitalism becomes more and more naturalized, some third wave or post-feminists find power in how resistantly they play within, rather than stand gloomily outside of, the ever-more-permeating permutations of consumer culture. Joanne Hollows and Rachel Moseley, in their persuasive introduction to Feminism in Popular Culture, say, “[T]here remain powerful attachments in some feminisms to the idea that feminism can exist in an ‘outside,’ and vanguard, position,” which they suggest is the basis of “disagreements over the relationship between second-wave and post- and third-wave feminisms.”3 Second- wave feminists—so called because those of the Seneca Falls convention in 1848 were considered the first in the United States—promoted a broad agenda around gender equity and women’s rights beginning in the late 1960s, when they splintered off from the civil rights movement and anti-war activism of the New Left. The concerns and practices of this second wave eventually became taxonomized by feminist academics as liberal, cultural, or materialist. Third-wave (or “post-”) feminism, by contrast, refers to a chronologically younger generation of American and British women for whom, as British cultural critic Angela McRobbie suggests, feminism is accounted for and “spent”—a force that has done its work and can now be both assumed as normative and implicitly dismissed.4 Conducting feminist practice, as third wavers advocate, from a place admittedly within capitalism (and within dominant ideology) could be advantageous, instead of holding on to what 3 Joanne Hollows and Rachel Moseley, “Popularity Contests: The Meanings of Popular Feminism,” in Feminism in Popular Culture, ed. Joanne Hollows and Rachel Moseley (New York: Berg, 2006), 2. They elaborate by suggesting that some critics want to hold on to the notion of the feminist critique as “outside,” while others argue that it’s impossible to get outside “the construction of subjectivity [within] the production/consumption cycle of global commodification” (14). 4 Angela McRobbie says that “[p]ost-feminism refers to an active process by which feminist gains of the 1970s and ’80s come to be undermined. [P]ost-feminism positively draws on and invokes feminism as that which can be taken into account, to suggest that equality is achieved, in order to install a whole repertoire of new meanings which emphasize that it is no longer needed, it is a spent force”; see McRobbie, “Post-Feminism and Popular Culture,” Feminist Media Studies 4, no. 3 (2004): 255. FEMINIST PERFORMANCE CRITICISM AND THE POPULAR / 435 might finally be an idealist belief that feminist practice can remain outside capitalism’s reach. Many American feminist performance theorists and critics have historically looked to the outside or the margins for effective, socially critical theatre. Perhaps it is now time to acknowledge the potential of looking inside as well, and to address feminism as a critique or value circulating within our most commercial theatres. In my work on utopia, I expressed interest in a revised “radical humanism” that might allow us to reclaim common, progressive, critical and political ground across identity affiliations without returning to the conservativisms of Enlightenment human- ism.5 Here, I am attempting not to renege on the critical promise of “the feminisms,” but to recuperate instead the potential of the liberal and even the cultural feminist position and the performance work generated under their rubrics. As time has passed, the distinctions among the feminisms, as they work out in specific theatre and per- formance practices, do not seem to me as salient as I once thought. I also find lately that many would-be “downtown,” materialist, feminist performance artists hold a lot in common with many so-called uptown, liberal feminist playwrights. Although they might employ different techniques and styles (and budgets) to address different topics in very different production contexts, their aspirations are similar and simple: to reach as wide an audience as possible with innovative, socially progressive theatre work. I now find tedious the somewhat facile pose of scholars always looking for the next new outlaw or the most outré performance examples to boast as aesthetically radical and politically subversive. While the work they uncover is often effective and important, in the rush to innovation, already-noted artists are too often dismissed. Likewise, in the movement of sexuality studies and gender theory away from a focus on women and toward gender-queer subjects and trans-studies, women and feminist subjects are sometimes seen as archaic and irrelevant.6 When I began writing feminist performance criticism and theory in the 1980s, feminism was a vibrant, growing field of critical and artistic practice. Those of us working in the field expected feminist work to grow and flourish, to expand and proliferate, in ways that required a useful taxonomy like “the feminisms” to productively sort out all this work. I never would have predicted that within fifteen or so short years, feminism would be declared “done,” not just by the mainstream media eager to chart newer ideo- logical fads, but by academics and even activists who began to see the method and the movement as constrained and static.

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