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In one of The Wolves’ final moments, one character’s mom explains that she has a swear jar at home that her daughter must put a quarter in every time she says “like.” If that jar was onstage for the duration of the play, with its characters bound to the same contract of precise speech, the Morgan-Wixson Theatre would likely be bankrupt by now. But that candidness and truth-to-life is what makes Sarah DeLappe‘s The Wolves such a delight to witness. Directed by Grace Wilkerson the 2016play follows a high school girls’ indoor soccer team over a season’s worth of practices.
From the very first scene, The Wolves feels like a window into reality. Things kick off with a chummy pre-practice stretch circle rife with overlapping dialogue, the young women discussing everything from menstrual pads to the Cambodian genocide. Some actors even turn their backs to the audience—an unconventional blocking choice that reinforces the sense of eavesdropping on real conversations. Rather than spoon-feeding character dynamics, the play invites viewers into the team’s insular world, slowly allowing personalities and social dynamics to unfold naturally and concurrently in a manner that doesn’t over-explain itself.
Conversations touch on the personal, existential, and nonsensical—a diversity that underscores the sense of realism and restrains its heavier topics from feeling too contrived. Dialogue is consistently riddled with these aforementioned placeholder words such as “like” and “um”—these are just teenage girls, after all. At the same time, The Wolves sets out to interrogate that “just,” taking its characters seriously despite their youth.
The players are known by their jersey numbers rather than their names, and their coach remains a godlike figure who is mentioned but never seen. There’s an overarching sense that these characters are a team before they are individuals. However, each character is endowed with their own quirks and points of view that surface over the course of the play.
Of these points of view, it is perhaps that of the anxious, mousy goalie #00, played by Isabella Griggs, that proves most striking. Despite having the least dialogue, Griggs has the most memorable and moving moment in the show: an interpretive solo scene where she breaks down wordlessly in the wake of a tragic event. In the wake of her prior restraint, her devastation is palpable.
Other standouts include Jada Jo Warner as #46, the kind and awkward new kid on the block who has to earn her place on the team, and Larissa Dowling as #13, an energetic goofball whose boyish charm brings in some great comic relief.
A simple scenic design by Kate Schaaf—primarily a turf floor, a netting backdrop, and a sideline bench—becomes a blank canvas for a myriad of drills and formations that keep the sparse space feeling alive. This dynamic blocking reinforces the teammates’ friendships and tensions, too, with physical separation being used to communicate social isolation.
The Wolves does inject some narrative tension into its latter half, first with the arrival of a college scout who pits the players against each other, and then—abruptly—with the tragic death of one of its players. While the former development felt like a refreshing arrival of stakes to an otherwise-meandering story, the latter felt unearned and oddly inconsequential.
Lacking the necessary buildup or payoff, this dark twist landed as a cheap tactic to squeeze out some audience tears, but just left me scratching my head. When the character’s mother (Lisette Miranda)—the only adult who appears onstage—enters at the play’s conclusion to deliver a melodramatic monologue, it’s gone overkill.
Ultimately, The Wolves is at its best when it’s not attempting to execute some grand plot arc, but when it allows its audience to sit calmly and contemplatively in the world it builds. During the talkback, Wilkerson revealed that her day job is teaching soccer to children. It figures, because the genuine chemistry of this cast could only be cultivated by a great coach. With earnestness and authenticity in its bones, The Wolves is a slice of life worth seeing.
photos courtesy of Morgan-Wixson Theatre
The Wolves
Morgan-Wixson Theatre, 2627 Pico Blvd. in Santa Monica
Fri and Sat at 8; Sun at 2
ends on February 9, 2025
for tickets ($23-$28), call 310.828.7519 or visit Morgan-Wixson
easy, free parking is available a block west of the theater
recommended for 14+
for more shows, visit Theatre in LA
