Raia Jane Hirsch and Angela Alexander Nalley Photo by Claudia Hershner

Set in the office of Ruby's Open Arms, a small-town gun company, it's the story of six women whose lives revolve around guns. With an eye toward marketing weapons to women, the company names its products after women who have used guns to save a life, her own or others': "The Bridesmaid," "The Babysitter" and "The Mallwalker." Director Claire LaNicca's production uses a series of tongue-in-cheek video parodies to underscore the absurdity. These are suggested in the script, but LaNicca recruited AV teacher Dillon Goettke to turn them into amusing, polished TV commercials.

Ruby (Raia Jane Hirsch) is the hardboiled CEO, with her feet (in cowboy boots) propped up on her desk. Her strongly stated belief is that she is selling last-defense protection to vulnerable women. Her rationale is immediately challenged by April (Kayamarie Roll), who, during an interview for a secretarial position, doubts that the story of one of the victims is true and expresses her opposition to guns as a solution. Not a good strategy, to be sure, especially in the office of a gun manufacturer.

Despite the advocacy of April's high-strung half-sister Janelle (Emma McGee), Ruby's office manager, the job goes to Lorrie Burnham (Angela Alexander Nalley), a rough-hewn, strongly opinionated old gal who seems to need employment. The story roils around a school shooting during which Shirley (Bekka Eaton), a veteran but loopy teacher, is responsible for the death of the perpetrator. Ruby names a new gun product "The Secretary" in Shirley's honor. This sets up a series of extended conflicts involving Lorrie's daughter Brandy (Christine Gallagher), whose son Dustin was the shooter.

Complicated? To be sure, with lots of churning subplots and twitchy portraits of angry, angsty women. Schmidt's script tends to flatten the characters using broad satire, so there's really no seriously relatable individual beyond gun-opponent April, abused by her husband but unwilling to take a weapon to defend herself. CEO Ruby runs hot and cold, occasionally understanding but more often quick to strap on a gun belt and a ball cap, locked and loaded to respond to life-and-death situations.

The common argument by gun advocates that "guns don't kill people, people kill people" is turned on its head when the new product, "The Secretary," starts going off on its own. Menacingly slung over Lorrie's shoulder, the AR47 knock-off kills without anyone triggering it. Her absurd and repeated defense: "I didn't kill anyone, the gun did."

It's clear that the intention of Schmidt's play is to underscore the horrors of gun violence. I did not find that it served that end especially well. His satiric portraits, reinforced by stereotyped performances and cornpone Southern accents adopted by this cast, makes them "deplorables," to use the term applied by Hillary Clinton to portray Trump supporters. They certainly present occasional moments of humor, but the story twists into darker and darker places, and the play's shocking conclusion left me bewildered as to what we are meant to take away.

I credit to Falcon for its steady commitment to challenging works. This one didn't work for me, but I'm grateful to have a theatre company that takes a risk on producing strong, opinionated plays such as The Secretary.

The Secretary runs through October 4, 2025, at Falcon Theater, 636 Monmouth Street, Newport KY. For tickets and information, visit falcontheater.net or call 513-479-6783.