Women’s bodies are under siege. The overturning of Roe v. Wade in 2022 was an inflection point, galvanizing the United States government and a powerful minority to take a chainsaw to individual citizens’ rights, particularly in relation to reproductive rights and changing definitions of womanhood. No longer separate, church and state seem to be working together, with extreme ideological zealotry used to justify policies whose primary aim seems to be to keep mothers impoverished, to threaten those who do not want to bring unwanted pregnancies to term, and to keep all women subservient and stripped of agency.
Amidst this dystopian reality comes Katie Cappiello’s satirical The Body of Mary: A Play in Three Acts (of God), which aims to re-center the voices of women in both political as well as Biblical contexts. In Cappiello’s theater, the humor often bites back. Instead of a full-length play with a singular storyline throughout, Cappiello (who also directs) organizes The Body of Mary as a 90-minute theatrical triptych linking three individual stories by theme. The tone is often light, but the subject matter is consistently heavy. Set in the distant past, the present, and a harrowing vision of the near-future, this play examines the complicated relationships between religion and the state and an individual woman’s ability to choose whether or not to have a child, teasing out the hypocrisies and the anguish with weaponized wit.
The first act, “The Virgin,” takes place in ancient Nazareth, and is probably the lightest in tone. Mary (a delightful Annalisa D’ Aguilar) is doing her best to complete her household chores, but has to frequently stop to puke into a bucket. Why is she so nauseous? No one has told her much about menstruation or sex, and her mother’s (Mary Jo Mecca) dismissal of her daughter’s complaints feel like an attempt to deprive this young teen of her own bodily autonomy through ignorance and denial. When her father Joachim (a hilarious David Hull) comes home to introduce her to his friend and angel-in-disguise Gabriel (a very funny Ben Cook), the men assume Mary will be just thrilled to have been chosen to be the Mother of God. Neither seems prepared for all of her questions and independence, have not conceived of the possibility that this young woman might have a mind of her own and say, “Thanks, but no thanks.” In this opening scene, the jokes often arise from logic attempting to make sense of a convoluted religious doctrine–”how can I be a virgin if I have had sex?” and “if God impregnated me with his son without my knowledge, isn’t that assault?” Audience members who have gone to Catholic school will particularly laugh in recognition of Mary’s astute questions.
The farcical energy of this opening act succeeds in loosening the audience up, getting us relaxed before entering the darker territory with Act II, “The Mother.” Set a few years in the future, this dystopia sadly seems like a remote possibility in the era of Trump 2.0. Cardinal O’Malley (Hull again, even more funny this time, as well as more sinister) has summoned Mother Mary Joseph (an outstanding Tracy Sallows) into his office to ask if she and the nuns in her order would be willing to be impregnated with frozen embryos. Under new legislation making unborn fetuses protected as legal citizens, the federal government has contracted the Catholic Church to create multiple “holy mothers” across the country in a twisted riff on The Handmaid’s Tale. As we saw in “The Virgin,” men once again “ask” women to embark on this sacred mission together, yet are not above threats and blackmail if they do not go along. In Act II, the plot becomes increasingly unsettling, and Sallows gives “The Mother” the depth of pathos and gravitas that it needs. For me, this is the strongest scene within The Body of Mary.
“The Dumpster,” The Body of Mary’s final act, takes us to a dark alleyway in present-day Texas, where teenage Mary (an exceptional Gracie Conn) discovers a wailing infant in the garbage behind the Dairy Queen where she works. Cappiello has a great ear for how Generation Alpha speaks and works through problems, as we hear Mary talk play-by-play with her bestie Nevaeh (D’Aguilar) via earbuds as the two try to figure out what to do with the abandoned baby. Like each act within The Body of Mary, “The Dumpster” begins comedically before slowly yet inevitably moving towards despair, when Mary decides to bring the child to a nearby church but finds that its door is locked. D’Aguilar is a formidable stage presence, even though she only appears as a voice in this final act, while Conn is tasked with holding the stage for nearly half an hour by herself. Through strong physicality, vivid facial expressions, and clear vocal inflection, Conn accomplishes this feat with aplomb.
Sometimes, the horrors of the real world prove overwhelming, and the best remedy one can think of is to pause and laugh at the sheer insanity of it all. Cappiello directs this talented ensemble of actors in a minimal yet beautiful set (designed by Forest Entsminger) with simple and effective lighting by Lauren Bremen. This is a production whose transitions between acts are delightful interludes unto themselves (particularly between Acts II and III, when we listen to a stirring a cappella version of “Ave Maria” by Lu Yi Peng), a sign of clear direction with an artist who knows how to tell a story visually and temporally, not just through text. And like all good satire since Jonathan Swift, Cappiello deploys laughter to address serious contemporary themes surrounding women’s reproductive rights, motherhood, and bodily autonomy in the presence of an increasingly powerful and hostile state. I mean, The Body of Mary is enjoying its run in a theater situated literally below that of a church; can it get any more appropriate and ironic than that?
The Body of Mary: A Play in Three Acts (of God)
Written & Directed by Katie Cappiello
The Gym at Judson
September 8 – October 8, 2026
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