Robert Kolker’s viral 2021 New York Times story “Who Is the Bad Art Friend?” informs Mrs. Harrison, Portland Center Stage’s first production of 2025. Though not directly referenced, some well-read viewers might draw Mrs. Harrison comparisons to R.F. Kuang’s novel Yellowface, a 2023 satire in which a white woman successfully steals the manuscript of her late friend of Asian descent to pass off as her own—an act of revenge after the original author’s rise to fame came from a bestselling book inspired by the thief’s own personal tragedy.
Since Mrs. Harrison debuted in 2018 (racking up prestigious Barrymore and Lambda awards for playwright R. Eric Thomas along the way), it’s plausible that she could have inspired Kuang after the play’s Philadelphia debut at the Azuka Theatre.
A prolific writer of nonfiction, television, theater and advice—his column “Asking Eric” is nationally syndicated—Thomas himself attended Mrs. Harrison’s opening night on Friday, Jan. 24. This production is directed by Tiffany Nicole Greene and stars Claire Rigsby and Cycerli Ash, two regulars in the local theater scene.
The PCS production features post-COVID culture updates, with references to the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol, the arrest of Sean “Diddy” Combs, and Elon Musk’s hard-right turn and Twitter rebrand.
Upon entering the theater, a party-ready playlist of predominantly female singers like Mariah Carey and Rihanna sets the stage for a 10-year college reunion. The set portrays the faculty restroom, a former favorite haunt for both Aisha (Ash) and Holly (Rigsby). Here they meet again, sheltering from sudden rain and engaging in an equally stormy dialogue that lays bare uncomfortable truths about the stories they’ve told the world. If they remember them, that is.
In addition to themes of truth and memory, the play explores the complexities of privilege. Externally, the two characters invert the expectations that their ethnicities would place upon them. Aisha, who is Black, is a successful and stylish playwright (she wrote the titular play), and wears elegant braids with a head-to-toe blue silk ensemble accented by a luxurious teal pashmina scarf. Holly, who is white, has yet to break into standup comedy, reflected by her vintage wardrobe of faded floral prints, dated high-waisted pants and voluminous flyaway hair.
To quote Thomas in the playbill, “You don’t have to agree with someone to empathize with them.” Both women’s multilayered characters exemplify this adage. Holly looks poor in dollars but lacks common sense even more. Snippets of her standup include insensitive jokes, and details about her background add up to paint a delusional picture. Aisha, meanwhile, shows her well-to-do ways early. She stands by the sink and unconsciously holds out her hand toward Holly as if mistaking her for a restroom attendant with a towel. But in fairness, Holly had turned on the sink when the faucet’s infrared motion sensor failed to respond to Aisha’s darker skin.
The motion sensor is the first of several examples of how aware Aisha is of her Black identity. Though she and Holly share disdain for male privilege and mediocrity—anyone who’s survived a college writing workshop can relate to the ladies’ lampooning of Dennis, a prototypical edgelord whose writing was full of swaggering soldiers, female objectification, and racial slurs—their ethnicities inform how their views diverge when it comes down to which authors can speak for which groups of people. While Holly confronts Aisha for using details from her life in writing Mrs. Harrison, Aisha points out further nuances in their feud that Holly’s lack of awareness of her whiteness doesn’t let her understand.
Without going into spoilers, Yellowface readers will be primed to guess where the story goes. But after 70 minutes of speedy, witty dialogue accentuated by mounting thunder and flickering lights, Mrs. Harrison still has plenty of surprises in store for even the most astute playgoers, who have until Feb. 16 to catch the show at the Armory.
SEE IT: Mrs. Harrison at Portland Center Stage, 128 NW 11th Ave., 503-445-3700, pcs.org. 7:30 pm Wednesday–Sunday, 2 pm Saturday, Sunday and select Thursdays, through Feb. 16. $25–$81.