Kirsten D'Aurelio and Heather Dennis Photo by Steven Townshend

This is what Bahow is getting at; the events of this play could happen to any two women, anywhere, at any time. "Change the actors and the argument and the play stays the same," she writes in her director's note. "Where you live still decides what happens to your body." The two actors I saw bring to life Nessa (Heather Dennis), a progressive New Yorker who miscarried on a flight which had to be diverted to Texas, and Val (Kirsten D'Aurelio), the Texan lawyer and mother who represents the deceased fetus still housed in Nessa's womb. I do have to wonder whether the double casting would be more impactful if all four actors did not appear to be white, given that the maternal mortality rate for Black women is significantly higher than that of white women. However, the conceit is still valuable, and both actors give grounded and emotionally striking performances.

The production as a whole, which follows a conversation between the women which I refuse to detail much of (you have to hear it for yourself!), is wholly committed to evoking the mood of the all-too-casual horror of pregnancy, abortion, childbirth, and all the things in between. The very municipal and drab set design by Amy C. Gilman is just as horrible as it should be, constructing a sad and dull waiting room–one where you are never quite sure what time it is or exactly where you are. Lights by Karen Wallace are uncomfortably bright, flicker on and off like fluorescents, and buzz annoyingly at times, thanks to sound design by Emily Hayman. All of these elements create a stark, unforgiving world which seems only more harsh when the play begins in earnest. The staccato script, the constant buzzing and ringing of Val's phone and computer, and the wholly unfair and soul-crushing situation Nessa finds herself in all promote an intense discomfort. The audience seemed to be held entirely still–I felt I was disrupting something whenever I shifted in my seat, and Dennis had to nod at us after the end to remind us that this was a play, and that we should clap, after which the crowd (thin, but committed) erupted into applause.

Blood of the Lamb can, at times, paint unforgivingly black and white stripes of our neighbors to the South, but it ultimately forces us to think about our own humanity and what we can do to impact the lives of those around us. It also holds onto a timely issue and serves as an important reminder of the lives of women in states that have criminalized abortion, some of which have been cruelly ended as a result of said legislation. Despite the actors sometimes reaching for lines, and a somewhat frustratingly slow start, this production is an undeniably thought-provoking and striking commentary on the times we find ourselves in and how we plan (and randomly happen) to be a part of those times.

Promethean Theatre Ensemble's Blood of the Lamb runs through October 3, 2026, at The Den Theatre, 1331 N. Milwaukee Ave, Chicago IL. For tickets and information, please visit www.prometheantheatre.org.