Good theater engages us in innumerable ways. It makes us think and feel, draws us into the present moment and keeps us there. It also provides a peephole into someone else’s experience — one we may not share — and ultimately, hopefully, empathy blooms. That’s how real change happens.
On July 18, at the Grange Hall, Circuit Arts held a performance of the play “Overcome,” written by actress Amy Brenneman (“Private Practice,” “The Leftovers,” “NYPD Blue,” “Judging Amy”), who splits her time between Chilmark and California. “Overcome” was co-created and directed by Sabrina Peck, a professional director, choreographer, and pioneer in community-engaged theater. Brenneman and Peck have history, and have often collaborated.
“I met Sabrina when I was 18 years old,” Brennenman said. “I’ve always acted, but movement has always been a part of my life as well, and Sabrina has always been a choreographer.”
“Overcome” follows Brenneman as she learns how to be a true ally for her daughter Charlotte, who was born with a rare chromosomal condition called Phelan-McDermid Syndrome. According to Neurodevelopmental Disorders, Phelan-McDermid Syndrome is rare, and hard to detect. Scientists estimate that it occurs in about 2 to 10 of every 1 million live births. Currently, it is believed that there are about 2,200 to 2,500 people diagnosed worldwide. “Overcome” predominantly focuses on the first 15 years of Charlotte’s life, as Brenneman struggles with Charlotte’s seemingly unclassifiable needs, eventually leading to genetic testing and diagnosis.
Brenneman and Peck began developing the play in 2016 at the Yard in Chilmark, where they workshopped it in 2019. The production went up live at Cotuit Center for the Arts on the Cape in March 2024. Brenneman’s choice to collaborate with Cotuit was due in part to its proximity to Charlotte’s home in Hyannis, and the Riverview School in Sandwich, Charlotte’s alma mater, which educates neurodivergent children and young adults.
“Overcome” isn’t a straight narrative piece. It’s not a musical. It’s not a one-woman show. Instead, one might describe it as an organic and creative exploration of an issue — an all-senses-on-board production. Music, dance, video elements, movement, and conversations with the audience are woven throughout, adding nuance and depth to the story.
“Sabrina and I love mushing up the elements while working together. We like to go where the story needs to go. Sometimes a nonverbal space is more useful to tell the story,” Brenneman said.
Originally, Brenneman’s goal was to get a full production of “Overcome” up in California, but then COVID hit. “I was really disappointed, but then life went on,” she said. Workshopping it at the Yard revived Brenneman’s passion for the play, however: “A lot of the stories in ‘Overcome’ are about Charlotte when she was young; now she’s older, and when I revisited the piece, I still loved it, and I feel like we haven’t fully explored it.”
I went to the performance of “Overcome” at the Grange Hall, and was very moved. And I wasn’t alone. The reaction from the audience was palpable. Part of this is because “Overcome” is a solid piece of theater — well-written, well-produced, well-directed — but I also think it’s because it scares us a little. It shakes our foundation — makes us consider our own parenting journey and the assumptions we make about our children; pokes at old social and educational wounds; asks us to imagine what it must feel like to be considered “other,” and forces us to think about how we may have (or are currently) perpetuating the notion of what normal means.
Brenneman did a stellar job showing us how she was swimming upstream wearing ankle and wrist weights for 15 years, with no life preserver in sight. We experienced how lonely, tiring, frustrating, at times wonderful, but scary it can be to have a child who requires support for an “invisible disability.” Brenneman’s willingness to be fully transparent throughout this piece was not just a brave choice but the right one. If we didn’t see her world rocked, witness her exploring her own beliefs around the concept of normalcy, and her realization that some of her well-intended actions were misguided, it would not have been so impactful.
We watched as Brenneman struggled to find answers, taking Charlotte from one neuropsychologist to the next. We were flies on the wall at the various meetings she had with the powers-that-be in the school Charlotte was attending. Through these scenes, we witnessed a myriad of ways that many public schools handle special education — the boxes to check, the linear and rigid expectations of children and their parents, and the relentless focus on trying to get kids to fit into a system that doesn’t fit them.
Throughout the play, a man’s voice can be heard talking to Brenneman (an actor seated house left, on a microphone). At first I thought this booming voice was Brenneman’s inner critic, but later it was revealed to be the voice of dominant society (part and parcel of the same thing, I suppose), telling her that if Charlotte would only work harder, and if Brenneman would only put her foot down — stop allowing Charlotte to scream and carry on — and get her up the grade level, all would be well, and Charlotte would fit in.
Though the focus is on Brenneman’s experience, and that of a few other moms in a support group for people who have children with unique needs, there is a broader issue being explored — one that Brenneman refers to as the “tyranny of normal.”
“What happened to me, and I think happens to other folks, is you think you’re in your own private Idaho — it’s only my kid — but this is a much bigger story.”
Charlotte was present throughout the rehearsal process of “Overcome.” And after the performance, during the Q and A session, Brenneman likened feeling Charlotte’s presence to that of a standup comic when he roasts his wife onstage. How does the wife feel about being the topic of discussion? Charlotte’s character is not played by an actor, but represented by dancers, including the Yard’s Jesse Jason and Alison Manning, who viscerally and beautifully embodied Charlotte without creating a caricature of her.
“I was always really clear that this was a mama’s story. I’m very sensitive about not telling someone else’s story,” Brenneman said. “We were here on the Island, and Charlotte was around by chance so she ended up managing the show. There is a low point in the show when I scream at her, and Sabrina wisely said to me, ‘Hey, you might want to give Charlotte a heads-up about this particular scene.’ So I turned to her and explained the scene: ‘You didn’t have a lot of words at the time, and I was frustrated,’ and she understood.” Ultimately, Charlotte comes out onstage at the end. “And then I see my daughter as she comes out, and it’s breathtaking because it’s so beautiful. When she comes out, she blesses the whole thing.”
The response from the audience clearly reflected the power, grace, and impact of Charlotte’s appearance. “Charlotte came out a few times at the dress rehearsal and people got very emotional,” Brenneman said. “I told her that if it’s too emotional to meet people after the performance, she can hang out elsewhere. But she said it was all right. People were sobbing in her arms. She understood the telling of the story and how important it was.”
The standing ovation also honored the other folks who worked so hard to birth the play. Supporting actors Sara Bleything, Holly Hanson, Lynne Johnson, Zack Johnson, Hadassah Nelson, and Rebecca Riley, the production crew, musicians, Cotuit Center for the Arts executive director David Kuehn, Brenneman’s family members, and many others nurtured “Overcome” into existence.
At the end of the play, we don’t see everything tied up into a neat little bow — we know life doesn’t work this way — but we do see a changed Brenneman. And a blossoming Charlotte. Brenneman was awakened by her daughter. “I have the kid I’m supposed to have,” she said. And although it may not have been originally intended, Brenneman has not only become a true ally for Charlotte, but for others who are marginalized due to their own mental and/or physical divergences.
And what of Charlotte? Now in her 20s, she’s living a full and independent life, filled with friends, in Hyannis. “From her diagnosis on, it was no longer about trying to jam her into a system,” Brenneman said. “Once we got it, it was, ‘Let’s support this person just as she is.’”
