The moment when I stepped into the Frear Ensemble Theater to see “Circle Mirror Transformation,” I was lost for a brief moment as I thought I had walked into the Kuharski Theater Studio in the Matchbox instead. I was amazed by the meticulous set designed by Hyoeun Lee ’28: the taped wooden floor, exposed cables on the white wall, a malfunctioning clock frozen at 4:30 p.m., a fire extinguisher, and a corkboard covered with posters (and a flyer of Kana’s missing cat!). Together, these objects transform the space into a dance studio located in the fictional town of Shirley, VT.
The actors entered the stage from the main door of Frear (yes, the actual door), and after putting their bags down on the rehearsal blocks, they lay on the floor and played the most classic theater game: counting to ten. This use of the main entrance — rather than an actor-specific one — along with other meta-theatrical interactions with the space, such as turning on the LED light using the real switch by the door, adds a naturalistic, even photorealistic layer to the performance.
The director, Kana Nagata ’26, intentionally chose to configure the stage with a narrower orientation, allowing the audience to get a closer overview of the scenes. She also shared that she especially loved Griffin Moore ’26’s use of LED hanging lights, which both evokes the environment of a community dance studio and creates a movie-like visual frame that lowers the perceived ceiling.
This movie-like style is consistent throughout the show and is especially obvious in the actors’ performances. The story unfolds entirely in the community dance studio, where Marty (Annie Hauze ’27), the acting teacher, leads a class of four students: Marty’s husband James (Gabriel Hines ’26), former actress Theresa (Perxi Pu ’27), high school girl Lauren (Kit Knapp ’27), and recently divorced carpenter Schultz (Joe Fox ’27). During the six weeks of classes, the characters’ personal stories, secrets, and conflicts are slowly revealed during acting exercises and breaks.
What makes the play distinctive is the lack of conventional dramatic climaxes. Every time an inciting incident and rising actions occur, they are often interrupted by the intrusion of another character, leaving an awkward silence on the stage that withholds catharsis. Yet, the world of the play continues as if nothing has happened — each character quietly avoiding the “elephant in the room.” But perhaps this is precisely what makes it feel so truthful: isn’t this how life always is?
The dialogue in the play is filled with everyday small talk and awkward silences that, on the surface, seem to stall narrative progression. In the author’s note in the published script, Baker emphasized the importance of having pauses that slow the play down, and she directly told the actors to fight against their instincts of worrying about losing the audience’s attention.
Nagata mentioned that acting is one of her biggest emphases in this production. She told me that she believes in acting more than anything, while also expressing concern that actors in contemporary theater sometimes underestimate the need for continuous practice and training. Therefore, in her rehearsals, she incorporated rigorous acting exercises and invited Charley Layton, her voice teacher at the Atlantic Acting School, to lead speech workshops. Kana also offered specific notes on the actors’ physicality, reminding them to avoid leaning forward to dramatize emotions and instead maintain an upright posture. Her emphasis on acting is clearly reflected in the actors’ truthful performances on stage, aligning with the naturalistic aesthetic of Annie Baker’s writing.
One of my favourite moments in the play is “the 25 seconds of empty stage” — the pause after Shultz and Theresa went to the restroom together, and before Lauren re-entered, leaving the audience with an empty stage for 25 seconds. According to Baker in the author’s note in the script, the silence is for the audience to “[meditate] on theatre and life and death and the passing of time.” This also resonates with Nagata’s decision to stage the production in an end-on staging. It reflects her reading of Baker’s work as one that respects boundaries between audience and actors, and her belief that this boundary is essential for the audience to reflect on their spectatorship.
Although the playwright and Nagata establish clear boundaries with the audience, the play also reveals how Marty struggles to set boundaries with her students, often encouraging them to share personal stories, secrets, and even trauma through theater games.
Annie Baker wrote “Circle Mirror Transformation” in 2008, and in this production, the audience can see the time period being highlighted through details such as the old-fashioned phones used by the characters. This was the time when the role of intimacy coordinator had not been normalized, and when both physical and psychological boundaries in rehearsal processes had not yet been broadly foregrounded. Watching this play today, we might find Marty’s pedagogy a little problematic. However, this opens up questions for us when we enter an acting classroom: to what extent do you feel comfortable using personal experiences to trigger emotions, and if we do draw from lived experiences, how can we tell which parts belong to ourselves and which parts belong to our character?
The play allows us to observe when characters choose to reveal themselves and when they choose to conceal parts of themselves. Interestingly, most of them seem more willing to disclose personal secrets during acting exercises than in everyday interactions. For instance, James, who initially appears to be a perfect husband and father, only expresses his insecurities about his relationship with his daughter and his secret feelings for Theresa during theater games.
While this may seem paradoxical, the contrast in James’ behaviors highlights something essential and beautiful about acting: it provides “a mask” for people to hide behind. By pretending to be someone else, they can finally feel safe to release their real emotions and reveal the most authentic selves that they are too afraid to confront otherwise. So I guess the play also poses a question: where does acting actually begin and end? Are we acting when we are in the acting classroom, or when we are out of it?
When speaking about her goal for “Circle Mirror Transformation,” Nagata shared that she hopes “everyone on the team can love and learn from each other.” As she wrote in her director’s note, “May we always orient ourselves as students in this world, faithful to a life of learning.”
In my opinion, she definitely achieved this goal, as the strong connection within the team reflected in the beautiful details of the actors’ nuanced portrayals of relationship dynamics, the designers’ thoughtful choices, and the seamless collaboration with stage management and all production members. As Kana’s friend, I was excited to see that she had developed a unique artistic style that feels authentic to her. I can’t wait to see more of her work after she graduates. Kana is also a teacher to me, who shows me that acting, directing, and teaching are all essentially one thing — they are all rooted in listening, caring, and loving.
