Feminism examined in Live Theatre's 'Rapture, Blister, Burn'

Things are not as they seem in “Rapture, Blister, Burn,” currently on stage at Live Theatre Workshop.

Catherine appears to be the epitome of success — the author of two books, an in-demand guest on talk shows, beautiful, poised and approaching middle age with some contentment.

Contentment is not a word Catherine can embrace. She has an emptiness in her life that success can not touch.

And then there is Gwen. She and Catherine were former grad school roommates. When Catherine went off to study in London, Gwen took up with her boyfriend, Don. Gwen and Don have two children and a comfortable life that allows her to be a stay-at-home mom. On the surface, you wouldn’t think that she regrets quitting grad school to be a mother and wife. Ah, but she has an emptiness that domesticity can not touch.

The two are at the center of the Gina Gionfriddo play, a study of feminism then and now. Think of this as a next generation “Heidi Chronicles.”

When her mother has a heart attack, Catherine decides to move back to her hometown to care for her. In truth, her mother represents her home, her heart. The thought of losing her makes Catherine feel more untethered than she can tolerate.

What Catherine really wants, however, is Gwen’s life — the joy of a home filled with children and a man she loves.

It’s a life Gwen really wants to get away from. She’s frustrated, bored, and regrets ever quitting school. She wants Catherine’s life.

Don, low on ambition and often high on pot, prefers porn over Gwen. He would welcome change, too, it would seem.

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As all this is going on, Catherine is teaching a class on feminism. Only two students have signed up — Gwen, and Gwen’s twentysomething babysitter, Alice, who is young and smart. The class takes place at Catherine’s home, where her mother pops in toward the end of each session with martinis and a willingness to discuss whatever topic is on the syllabus.

At the heart of the play are questions: Can a woman have it all? What does being a feminist mean today? Could Phyllis Schlafly — a militant anti-feminist who successfully worked to defeat the Equal Rights Amendment in the 1970s — have had some good points?

There are extended moments when this feels like a lecture on second and fourth wave feminism. But the topics discussed, treated with humor and respect, are topics with which women still grapple.

And yet, there’s something off. The women in the play more often than not define themselves in relation to men. Those in their lives and those they want in their lives. And they actually warm to Schlafly’s idea that it’s a woman’s role to follow and serve the man. It’s disconcerting, but maybe that’s just this second wave feminist reluctant to let go of the ideas that so radicalized women in the 1960s.

Here’s the beauty of this play: People who care about women and women’s roles are going to mull it over. Talk about it. Heck, a group of women even gathered during intermission at a recent performance to dissect the ideas put forth in the story.

“Rapture, Blister, Burn” (it’s a line from a Hole song) is a talky one, and the cast smoothly dealt with the ideas and the often-elevated language. Shanna Brock plays the willowy, confused Catherine with grace; Janet Roby as the ex-alcoholic and unhappy Gwen made her misery palpable; Brie Zepeda’s Avery, the young woman who absorbs and challenges Catherine’s teachings on feminism, was feisty and grounded, and Toni Press-Coffman as Catherine’s mother popped in at the perfect moments to provide some comic relief and a well-lived perspective. The only male character, Don, Gwen’s husband, is not treated kindly — he is a slacker who would rather immerse himself in naked women on the Internet and a cloud of cannabis than face up to a life defined by misery. Stephen Frankenfield deftly handled the one-dimensional role.

There are uncomfortable moments in this play, and at times you might want to jump up and get in a debate with a character. But in the end, “Rapture, Blister, Burn,” nicely directed by Rhonda Hallquist, is a play you’ll take home with you.

And that’s what we like from our theater.