A SMART, PLAYFUL SPIN
ON A FEMINIST CLASSIC

Paul Michael Thomson’s witty homage to Top Girls
is dazzling—if occasionally too clever for comfort

Myah Bridgewater and Laney Rodriguez

A world premiere from Story Theatre, performed at the Raven, Paul Michael Thomson’s Pot Girls is a charming update on Caryl Churchill’s Thatcher-era feminist classic Top Girls, also playing on the Raven’s main stage. The two plays are performed back-to-back on certain dates, so if you have the vesical fortitude—and five hours to spare—you can watch both and perform a more thorough comparison and analysis.

It’s not easy to review this play without constantly invoking the older one, but I will try to limit myself to no more than three instances. Pot Girls opens on a beautifully precise set depicting a tiny boho-chic apartment. Katelyn Montgomery’s scenic design is rife with on-point details—props to Spencer Diaz Tootle for her, er… props—and anyone who has been (or been friends with) a struggling artist will immediately feel at home.

Myah Bridgewater, Brenna DiStasio, Tamsen Glaserand,
Emily Marsowith, (back) Peter Ferneding

The apartment belongs to playwright Caryl (Brenna DiStasio) and her partner Edith (Ireon Roach), who are putting the finishing touches on a party. The celebration marks the news that one of Caryl’s plays is being mounted at a major theatre in London’s West End—one that has never produced a play with an all-female cast before. To celebrate, they’ve invited friends who happen to be six writers from history: five women and one gay man.

Top Girls invocation #1: I wondered whether the inclusion of Edward Carpenter would ruffle feathers (it didn’t mine), because the historical figures in the original play were all women. Including a cis male—even a non-normative one—in a group meant to acknowledge and honor literary women could easily be construed as an intrusion.

Laney Rodriguez, Emily Marso and Brenna DiStasio

Caryl and Edith’s guests—Phyllis Wheatley, Sappho, Lady Murasaki, Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, and Edward Carpenter—show up, and the party begins. This is the best section of Pot Girls. Director Ayanna Bria Bakari is firing on all cylinders. The Altmanesque overlapping conversations sparkle, and every joke lands. There’s even room for a devastating dramatic monologue from Phyllis Wheatley (Myah Bridgewater, just brilliant) that jolts both the audience and the characters out of their complacency. Somehow the comic momentum continues unabated once equilibrium is restored. It’s delirious, grand fun.

A quick aside to acknowledge the terrific ensemble, but also to single out Tamsen Glaser’s Sappho and Peter Ferneding’s Edward Carpenter. Their hilarious antagonism toward each other is a highlight, culminating in an exchange that had the audience roaring.

Brenna DiStasio and Ireon Roach

The second act grows more serious, if still funny, and focuses on rehearsals for Caryl’s new play. Dealing with divas, a self-absorbed director, and assorted theatrical functionaries is par for the course. But when Naomi, a wealthy Black intern whose uncle is one of the production’s financiers, takes issue with the fact that the play’s characters—contrary to the marketing—do not represent all British women but primarily white ones, Caryl suddenly finds herself navigating a minefield she never anticipated.

But she’s not the only one in dangerous territory—the play itself is as well. The question of authorial voice now comes to the fore, and as Caryl (an absolutely phenomenal DiStasio) forcefully defends her play in a beautifully written exchange, it becomes increasingly clear that Thomson has written himself into the tightest possible corner. Simply put, if Caryl’s thesis is correct, it invalidates the entire premise of Pot Girls. If it isn’t, it undermines her character.

Brenna DiStasio

Top Girls invocation #2: Top Girls avoided this problem because it focused squarely on class and gender inequality. By introducing race into the equation, Thomson adds another layer of complexity. As we headed into the break before Act Three, two questions lingered: would he acknowledge the flaw in the argument, and could he write himself out of the corner he had created?

The answers are “yes” and “not quite.” The third act of Pot Girls is incredibly clever and witty and, like the rest of the production, exquisitely performed. Yet it cannot quite settle on its tone and ultimately comes across as glib and insincere. If the play weren’t so beautifully directed and acted, it might have undermined the entire enterprise—but it doesn’t. Instead, it earns a nod for its self-awareness and ambition, even if its ideas occasionally tangle themselves into knots.

Better to be over-ambitious than play it safe.

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photos by David Hagen

Pot Girls
Story Theatre
Raven Theatre Schwartz Stage. 6157 N. Clark St.
ends on March 8, 2026
Thurs-Sat & Mon at 7:30; Sun at 3
for tickets ($20–$48), call 713.338.2177 or visit The Story Theatre

for more shows, visit Theatre in Chicago

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