←Recommendations of Dust

This play plunges us into the mind of a monster with no means of escape, forced to see the world through his eyes. It also pulls of the pretty incredible trick of not being his story, despite being locked into his point of view. Reading doesn't really do it full justice, and I hope to someday be able to see it in its horrible, mesmeric glory.

A deep dive into rage, righteous and petty. The story of Boy and Wendy is all too common in today's society, yet it's one that repeats itself again and again. Mohlman condenses this fury into an immensely theatrical script, providing opportunities for unforgettable imagery and staged movement. The whole production team has a playground here, or perhaps more appropriate to say, a pool. I can only imagine what it would be like to hear the Mermaids in real time. A commanding wall of sound, deftly paced like a poem. This is expertly crafted.

A play that uses its ensemble as a powerful hurricane. The women in the chorus (as few as 6 and as many as 49!) gather speed for overwhelming moments that bring the calmer sections into sharp focus. This play lives confidently in the "anger" stage of grief, giving voice to the victims of gun violence and letting them take their revenge on toxic masculinity.

As the play unfolds, the Boy's story he tell himself starts to crumble. Toxic masculinity and gun violence are confronted head-on in this powerful script as Wendy and the other women take their story back.

This play is raw, and angry, and hopeful, all at the same time, which is what I believe the best works of art always are.

I've been attached to this project for many years, as an actor, musical orchestrator, and director, and my admiration for the play has only grown over time.

Danielle uses Boy's inner world to craft a play about toxic masculinity, victimization of femme people in toxic masculinity, and the ultimate destructive pathway that it crafts. She uses this play to put words to the unspeakable: school shootings', men, women, and accountability.

Read this play.

DUST is more than a play, it’s a conversation lightning rod for performers, creative team, and audience alike around the themes of youth and gun violence. I mounted a full workshop production for Youth Theatre Northwest at the height of the 2018 #Enough movement and it inspired change in everyone in its presence. The play exposes the misogyny at the heart of most school shootings and the presence of sexual assault often gone unacknowledged in America's high schools. Movement, music, and a mindful creative process await the director who works on this lyrical fairy tale-like nightmare for the SnapChat generation.

Theatre can't be all escapist entertainment. It needs to expose atrocities and give voice to the voiceless. As long as women's voices are silenced and ignored, men will be free to commit horrible violence against them. This play needs to heard and seen. People always say art can change the world. This is the kind of work that actually can.

Danielle writes plays that fulfill one of the most important things theater can do, explore and shine a light on relevant contemporary themes. Dust does this. School shootings, toxic masculinity, sexism, all come into play in the play. This piece asks those questions and more - for example, the framing that Danielle uses for this play, without giving anything away, made me ask myself tough questions about how we tell these stories, how I perceive them through my own privilege, and what conversations we need to have.

Youth, power, violence, gender, sexuality: Danielle Mohlman weaves these themes into a poetic fugue. Dust intertwines voice and movement alongside the narrative of a school shooting, making it as beautiful as it is timely. A powerful, boldly theatrical, haunting play that arrives at the perfect time.

Danielle writes movingly about loss and being lost. The boys of Barrie’s 19th century adventure stories become the girls of a 21st century tragedy—the victims of a school massacre.

Danielle weaves the voices of these lost girls into polyphonic spoken-word collages that mirror the non-stop, social media landscapes we all navigate. We see the pressures to succeed, academically and socially, and how momentary decisions can have lasting, even permanent consequences. Captain Hook and Peter Pan might not be all that different. Heroes and villains are, after all, just people willing to do what the rest of us fear.