All the
characters in Falsettos get put
through the ringer, but Trina in particular has a lot to deal with. Back in my review of the filmed recording of
the revival, I mentioned that I have a soft spot for characters like her, women
who bought into the idea of a “perfect” textbook life as a submissive housewife
but now find that having “done everything right” doesn’t protect them against
heartbreak and turmoil. Now, after
having spent a lot more time marinating in the score, I stand by that opinion
and, if possible, love her even more (spoilers.)
When we
meet Trina, “the life / [Her] mother assumed [she’d] live” has already
imploded. He husband has divorced her
and gotten together with a man but still wants her as a part of his “tight-knit
family,” which is hard enough for Trina to deal with but becomes even harder
when she’s ready to move on herself and Marvin doesn’t want to let her. Even though the Norman Rockwell ideal clearly
didn’t go the way she planned, she still clings to it, losing herself in
cooking, housework, and taking “good care of [her] men.” It’s the identity that’s been prescribed for
her and it’s the only one she knows, and so it’s still where she tries to find
her value. It’s why, when she first
takes an interest in Mendel, she spends all day in the kitchen in hopes of
impressing him. “I’ll say ‘twas worth
the time,” she explains to the audience.
“I lie.”
Trina
does her damnedest to put on her brave face and roll with what’s handed to her,
but it’s a barely-maintained façade that crumbles whenever it’s given half a
chance. We often see how she attempts to
sublimate her frustrations – in housework, in exercise, in hovering over Jason
– but they don’t stay down. Time and
again, this pressure bubbles over and she loses it pretty spectacularly. This is most notable in “I’m Breaking Down,”
in which she airs her grievances while angrily chopping phallic fruits and
vegetables. These moments are often
comic, due to the sheer extent of Trina’s mania, but they’re also important,
because you definitely get the sense that this is a woman who’s long been
denied (and denied herself) that chance to vent her feelings.
But it
comes through in quieter, more heartbreaking ways as well. Trina has spent her life going along with
what’s expected of her, and it’s worn her out.
Her most affecting moments are when she gives herself over to that
weariness. In “Trina’s Song,” her
plaintive rumination about “all the happy men who rule the world,” she wonders
why the world is always handed to immature men whose “toys are people’s
lives.” Why not her, she asks, just
once, and she struggles to figure out how she can carve out a bit of her own
happiness in a world that’s designed against her.
Falsettos doesn’t have a lot of female
representation – Trina is the sole female character in Act I, and while
Charlotte and Cordelia are added in Act II, their roles aren’t as prominent –
but on the whole, it does a nice job of exploring the patriarchy and its effect
on people. We see Trina react to how
other characters treat her, as well as how society has taught her to treat
herself, and whether she’s wildly yelling or softly imploring, it’s clear that
she’s reached her breaking point:
something has to give.
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