Cathartic Communication in the Haunting New GRIEF CAMP — Review

We don’t learn much about its characters’ particular reasons for being there and, save for a few lines deployed in ways that skirt the thud of exposition, might not even know where they are. The limits and limitations of communication are central to Grief Camp, a haunting, humane new play by the 27-year-old (!) Eliya Smith, premiering in an excellent Atlantic Theater production.

Though the realistic cabin set (by Louisa Thompson) visible before the one-act’s start doesn’t hint at anguish to come, the mood is betrayed by the damp, blue-green summer light which bathes it (excellently rendered by Isabella Byrd). Its young inhabitants have regular teen conversations, about crushes and their home lives and who’s been craving too much attention, but their vibe is decidedly off – eerie, even. None of them seem to be able or willing to connect with each other, as if in avoidance.

Of course, as the title conveys, they are there because they’re each dealing with some sort of grief, one which might hopefully be resolved by season’s end. To divulge the details of their grief would not really spoil anything, but feels beside the point. The tone of their interactions, and what their timbre says about how they all cope, form the backbone of the play, which Smith and director Les Waters present in an unusually cinematic way. Some scenes stretch the length of a conversation, others offer glimpses of bedtime chats, brief morning routine, or interludes by a zen, speechless guitarist (Alden Harris-McCoy). A particularly cryptic one gestures at the kind of therapy they might be receiving there: its seven participants lined up at the edge of the stage, sitting silently with different comfort foods (a glass of milk, a bowl of spaghetti), which they eat when prompted by the camp’s unseen head psychiatrist, Rocky (Danny Wolohan).

The effect is almost that of skipping through security camera footage, or a timelapse carefully calibrated between the lighting’s cuts. That need-to-know basis is also how we get to know the campers: Cade (Jack DiFalco), an adult counselor who’s mother’s passing led him there years prior; sisters Ester (Lark White) and Olivia (Renée-Nicole Powell), the latter of whom grasps at control by hypersexualizing her interactions with Cade; Luna (Grace Brennan), who wields her weirdness defensively; Blue (Maaike Laanstra-Corn), whose oddness comes naturally, and through the thinly-veiled plays she writes; Bard (Arjun Athalye), a shy, hurting boy; and Gideon (Dominic Gross), who’s toughness shields him from the brink of collapse.

A stunning sequence finds them all haphazardly exorcising their emotions during a thunderstorm (designed, not superfluously, by Jeremy Chernick), and the closest descriptor within reach here – emblematic of the whole play – is that they all act as if on psychedelics; as if each is undergoing something immense and overwhelming but cannot express it, left alone to wander through a subjective experience where the cleanest past forward is through, and through impulse alone.

It’s not all traumatic. Grief and its manifestation are funny that way. Grief Camp offers plenty of room for humor and for touching insights into the ways we move about our lives carrying memories both burdensome and beautiful. The play trusts us to consider its title’s significance throughout with the gentle nudge of a catharsis-in-waiting, and to trust in continuing power from Smith.

‍Grief Camp is in performance through May 11, 2025 at the Atlantic Theater Company on West 20th Street in New York City. For tickets and more information, visit here.