Rift, or White Lies
Interact Theatre Company at The Drake
302 S. Hicks Street
Philadelphia
Showing through April 27, 2025
On stage, two actors strip down and reverse their roles; one removes a wig and pulls on an orange jumpsuit while the other dons a flannel and mop of hair. The play’s opening lines are repeated by the newly bald brother before a dramatic dimming of the lights: “Take a breath lil’ bro. I ain’t no ghost, least, not yet.”
The end of the play Rift, or White Lies is a preview of what audiences can expect if they return to The Drake the next evening to catch a consecutive performance. Actors Jered McLenigan and Matteo Scammell switch roles each night, taking turns playing each brother in the two-person show. While this unique creative choice must be a challenge for the actors, it emboldens the show’s interrogation of tolerance and family.
Rift, or White Lies is a production of InterAct Theatre that follows the relationship of two half-brothers over the span of 26 years. The show examines individual evolution by tracing the different paths of siblings affected by the same childhood injuries, adding to conversations surrounding trauma and restorative justice taking place in our country right now.
The brothers’ lives begin to diverge early in childhood after a shared experience of sexual abuse. Over time, one brother becomes a prominent novelist; the other is imprisoned for manslaughter. The play, in turn, takes place exclusively during prison visitation hours, always with a screen, glass or table separating the two.
The script makes a point to neither confirm nor deny whether the older brother was falsely imprisoned. His dependence on his brother to make parole is a constant struggle that strains their relationship as the novelist gains career notoriety. The younger brother openly questions his brother’s innocence and is conflicted about their relationship. What physical violence the older brother is capable of outside of visitation hours or in the outside world is left unclear. The only violence we witness is his allegiance to white supremacist organizations while incarcerated.
The inherent unlikability of an overt racist is put into perspective through the egotistical, virtue-signaling tendencies of his brother. Though the younger brother wants to distance himself emotionally from his imprisoned sibling, he continues to visit for the purpose of attempting to reform his brother’s political views. He is articulate on matters of social justice but unwilling to reflect on his own life and actions. There were a handful of moments when I felt my sympathy shift from one brother to the other. I was surprised by this.
For example, during their first time meeting in prison, the older brother alludes to the sexual trauma that they both endured in childhood. The younger brother does not remember and does not believe him. Becoming increasingly panicked, the younger brother accuses him of being a compulsive liar. This fight escalates to the first break between them in the play – years pass before they are in the same room again.
When their father dies after another long period without communication, the younger brother bars the older from attending the funeral. When the elder pleads, “let me be your brother one more time,” the younger one takes a jab at his relationship with their father by saying, “Dad didn’t even claim you while he was alive.”
While the outbursts of the younger brother were at times shocking, I was similarly taken aback by the honesty of the older brother. I believed in the opportunity for the older, highly prejudiced brother to evolve as a person more so than I trusted the earnestness of the younger. While in prison, the older brother reflects on the truth of his own life in conjunction with the social library of art and literature; when discussing Ta-Nehisi Coates, for instance, he observes, “his sentences make me hungry.” His charisma and grit are functional tools of the narrative, and he gives us a hint as to why when he says, “People might find me more relatable than they care to admit.”
Once we can move beyond our initial assumptions about the story’s protagonists, we get to the show’s more pressing questions about the possibilities of transformation. This play works because, like the actors changing each night, the audience’s perspective is forced to shift too. With a change of clothes, scenery, and attitude, our allegiances can change in an instant.