PROVO — The world premiere of Paper Weight, produced by Vicariously Staged Productions at The Hive Collaborative, is a deeply moving and raw exploration of memory, identity, and the emotional toll of early-onset Alzheimer’s. Written by Skyler Denfeld with music by Brandon Merrill, the production centers on Rosie, a woman on her deathbed, as she navigates a fragmented stream of memories. Using devised movement, poetry, and non-linear storytelling, the show effectively captures the disorienting and fragile nature of memory loss. With its emotionally charged storytelling and evocative score, Paper Weight invites audiences to reflect on love, grief, and what remains when memory fades.
Skyler Denfeld, the playwright and director of Paper Weight, is a remarkably poetic writer. The script is filled with passion, heart, and emotional complexity. I’d love to share a hundred of the lines that moved me—but I won’t, because you deserve to hear them for the first time in the theater. Having the playwright in the rehearsal room is a gift for the actors, but having the playwright double as the director is the bread and butter of theater. Across the board, the script work is impeccable, and all of the actors have such a clear understanding of what they are saying. The playwright-director combination brings an added depth to every moment. Everything—from the dialogue, to the music, to the lighting—carries such intention and weight. Brandon Merrill’s score is stunning and seamlessly intertwines with the text.
Eden Bostrom as Rosie delivers a phenomenal performance. Her ability to shift seamlessly between different ages—often with nothing more than the removal of a braid or ponytail, and without ever leaving the stage—is a powerful testament to her versatility. Each version of Rosie is distinct with physicality that makes every age feel both believable and emotionally grounded. Bostrom commands the stage with energy, spunk, and refreshingly unexpected choices. She is a dynamic performer, constantly evolving and responding to the world around her.
Jared Kamauu as Oliver offers a grounded and profoundly moving performance. Representing a caregiver, he brings a raw vulnerability to the stage that is both heart-wrenching and deeply human. His ability to give fully in emotionally intense scenes and then shift effortlessly into a light, tender presence in more playful scenes speaks to his impressive range and emotional intelligence as an actor. His chemistry with Rosie is genuine and endearing.
Aunah Johnson as August is a generous and fully present scene partner. Every line she delivers feels directly motivated by her partner, and how she interacts with each character is unique, demonstrating distinct relationships. She brings a strong sense of opinion and conviction, filling her character with color and life.
Alex Glover plays both Clarence and Papa, and embodies a truly wholesome and comforting paternal presence. He radiates a warm, safe energy that feels like a refuge for all the characters. His interaction with Quinn’s story is especially touching, capturing the gentle, protective heart of a father in that moment.
The cast as a whole was exceptional. Alex Russon as Thomas, Sydney Southwick as Juniper, and Natalie Green as Quinn play crucial roles in supporting the show as a whole. They seamlessly shift between multiple characters and move set pieces during transitions, making complex choreography appear effortless. Given how movement-heavy the piece is, it is extra important that the ensemble listen to one another and have the same bigger picture in mind. Watching them breathe and move in sync is a clear sign of a tight-knit, well-rehearsed ensemble. It’s evident that Denfeld places a strong emphasis on ensemble building in the rehearsal process, which elevates the entire production.
The costumes incorporate everyday street clothes, which effectively grounds the show in realism. All of the actors perform in socks, a detail that makes the performance feel infinitely more intimate, reinforcing the sense that we are witnessing something personal, something at home. With no costume changes, shifts in time are marked only by subtle changes in hairstyle. This places the responsibility of representing changes in time squarely on the actors, which they handled with remarkable ease and specificity.
The set, designed by Taylynn Rushton, is simple but effective. It essentially consisted of desks and chairs, with a few props scattered throughout. It may appear bare bones, but nothing about the performance is sparse or lacking. Each set piece is creatively reconfigured to transform the space as desks became gravestones, beds, bookshelves, and even childhood forts. However, there were also moments of pantomime that, for me, feel slightly out of place. Given the inventive use of existing set pieces, it feels like a missed opportunity to either incorporate what’s already onstage or to trust the audience to fill in the gaps.
The lighting, designed by Taylor Tew Nelson, and sound, designed by Joey Wright, work beautifully hand in hand. Especially with such a minimal set, light and sound play a crucial role in shaping the world of the play, guiding the audience through shifts in time, place, and emotional tone. Both Nelson and Wright use recurring motifs of light and music that deepen the storytelling and create a strong emotional through-line.
Paper Weight incorporates a lot of devised movement, not only in scene transitions and time shifts, but also to express abstract experiences like falling in love or the gradual decline of memory. Several actors repeat physical motifs such as crumpling papers, tearing pages from a book, or writing and then brushing the paper off the desk. These gestures are visceral and emotional. While these movements reflect Rosie’s experience with memory loss, they also resonate on a broader level, representing the countless moments we throw away due to the many distractions in our everyday lives. In a world of constant noise, it has become harder to be present and to form lasting memories. We miss the moments because we are too focused elsewhere. The movement in Paper Weight says to me, be here. Be present. We, as a society, are missing things.
I recommend seeing Paper Weight, not only for the gifted cast, but because of the urgent and thought-provoking questions it raises. This piece invites us to reflect on how we preserve memories and how we live in the fleeting now with those we love. It confronts the difficult truth that, in the end, our memories and our legacy are all we leave behind. So, how do we make our stories last? How do we share them? How do we make memories permanent? I left the theater with one resounding thought: Theater is vital. It is starting a dialogue. It is where healing begins and where legacies take root. When you step into the theater, you are partaking in the story. If you want to know your community more deeply, go to the theater. Support new works and new voices, because they are telling our stories – the stories of those we love, and the stories we have yet to live.
