JUST SOME KIDS, A CABIN, AND THE ABYSS.
NOTHING HAPPENS. EVERYTHING HURTS.
If you’re a fan of Annie Baker—whose plays of quiet revelatory naturalism include The Flick, Circle Mirror Transformation, John, and my personal favorite, Infinite Life—then meet a compelling new voice carrying that torch: Eliya Smith. Her play Grief Camp, which opened tonight at the Linda Gross Theater, shares Baker’s interest in the unsaid and the in-between. Smith has her own rhythm; one that flits and flickers with a restless, youthful energy—with many Gen Z references and consistent humor throughout.
(above) Maaike Laanstra-Corn (Blue), (below) Lark White (Esther), Grace Brennan (Luna)
Lark White (Esther) and Grace Brennan (Luna)
The play is composed of dozens of brief seemingly disconnected scenes that resist any traditional arc. Don’t expect a protagonist’s journey or a narrative climax. What you get instead is a string of moments—each a tiny pearl—that, taken together, form a quietly resonant necklace of meaning. But be warned: those craving linear clarity may find their patience tested. The only overt note in Smith’s subtle score is the setting itself: the town of Hurt, Virginia.
Jack DiFalco (Cade) and Dominic Gross (Gideon)
Arjun Athalye (Bard), Lark White (Esther), Grace Brennan (Luna), Dominic Gross (Gideon),
Jack DiFalco (Cade), Maaike Laanstra-Corn (Blue) and Renée-Nicole Powell (Olivia)
The play opens in pre-dawn darkness inside a co-ed summer camp cabin. Bunkbeds, box fans, towels, and the scattered belongings of seven campers—four girls, two boys, and one college-aged RA, or Resident Assistant—paint a lived-in portrait of adolescence in suspended animation. As the sun rises (and continues to set and rise 15 more times throughout the 100-minute one act), Isabella Byrd’s exquisitely understated lighting design becomes a character in its own right. Time passes in increments both small and sweeping, including one evocative sequence where time slips by during a single guitar solo, marked only by shifting angles of light. All this unfolds with scarcely a visible lighting instrument in sight.
Arjun Athalye (Bard), Dominic Gross (Gideon), and Maaike Laanstra-Corn (Blue)
Jack DiFalco (Cade) and Renée-Nicole Powell (Olivia)
The naturalism extends beyond light. Louisa Thompson’s rustic cabin set is impressively detailed, from the wood-framed walls to the rafters to the rainfall through the windows. The rain—first in the distance, then on the rooftop, and finally in a full downpour—also feels like a character rather than a technical achievement (special effects by Jeremy Chernick).
Grace Brennan (Luna) and Lark White (Esther)
Jack DiFalco (Cade) and Renée-Nicole Powell (Olivia)
The title of the play tells us that the ensemble of Gen Z campers is grieving, but there are no monologues of loss, no emotional breakdowns, no explanatory flashbacks. Instead, these young people go about their remaining 15 days of camp with the distracted focus of the bereaved. They whisper to each other after lights out, dutifully maintain Duolingo streaks, make their beds, and head to breakfast. They gossip, dream, and read scenes from a musical-in-progress by Blue (Maaike Laanstra-Corn). They play camp games that never quite take off, and attempt activities that fizzle. Olivia (a commanding Renée-Nicole Powell) overcompensates her grief with aggressive sexual banter with the RA (Jack DiFalco) who, lucky for him, keeps his cool, even with her vivid retelling of a menstrual-blood facial that nods to Wendy Wasserstein’s Uncommon Women and Others. One scene rarely leads to the next in any linear sense. (One imagines the cast had a Herculean task memorizing the endless sequence.)
Maaike Laanstra-Corn (Blue)
Maaike Laanstra-Corn (Blue) and Renée-Nicole Powell (Olivia)
There are two adults ostensibly supervising the campers: one unseen, only heard in comically chipper morning announcements (Danny Wolohan); the other, seen but silent, except for the aching beauty of his guitar playing (Alden Harris-McCoy).
Renée-Nicole Powell (Olivia) and Dominic Gross (Gideon)
Arjun Athalye (Bard) and Alden Harris-McCoy (Guitarist)
The acting is uniformly strong and—like the writing and design—disarmingly natural. The dialogue overlaps, conversations happen simultaneously, and occasionally lines get swallowed in the cacophony. But that’s part of the design. There isn’t a weak link among the ensemble, which also features Arjun Athalye, Grace Brennan, Dominic Gross, and Lark White, each delivering a performance that feels uncoached and lived-in.
Dominic Gross (Gideon) and Arjun Athalye (Bard)
Maaike Laanstra-Corn (Blue), Dominic Gross (Gideon),
Arjun Athalye (Bard) and Alden Harris McCoy (Guitarist)
Director Les Waters wisely avoids imposing a shape on the shapeless. He lets the play’s rhythms emerge organically, without panic or push. Under his steady hand, Grief Camp becomes a meditation rather than a message.
In the end, the experience of watching Grief Camp might mirror the experience of grief itself: confusing, directionless, unresolvable—but ultimately, strangely freeing. As Blue says near the end:
“and someday…
you will be free
and then you will be sad
because you are free
…”
And somehow, with such awareness, that feels just right.
Renée-Nicole Powell (Olivia) and Lark White (Esther)
photos by Ahron R. Foster
Grief Camp
Atlantic Theater Company
Linda Gross Theater, 336 W. 20th Street
Tues, Thurs & Sun at 7; Wed, Fri & Sat at 8pm, Sat & Sun at 2
ends on May 11, 2025
for tickets (beginning at $85), call 646.452.2220 or visit Atlantic
Gregory Fletcher is an author, a theater professor, a playwright, director, and stage manager. His craft book on playwriting is entitled Shorts and Briefs, and other publishing credits include two YA novels (Other People’s Crazy, and Other People’s Drama), 2 novellas in the series Inclusive Bedtime Stories, 2 short stories in The Night Bazaar series, and several essays. Website, Facebook, Instagram.
