Sisterhood And Scones: The Ideal Mix of Comfort and Commentary at Taproot Theatre’s "Till We Have Faces"

It is rare to see the tremors from a passing memory fully reflected on someone's face. Rarer still to watch the memory play out in their mind. With a small but talented cast and a stage that lies amidst the audience in unique intimacy, Taproot Theater’s production of Till We Have Faces provides an opportunity to do both simultaneously.

This play is the premier adaptation of C.S. Lewis’s novel of the same name, which reimagines the myth of Psyche and Cupid. In the original myth, Psyche is sacrificed by her people and rescued by the god Cupid. She becomes his bride but is forbidden to see his face when he visits each night. Her sister, envious of Psyche, convinces Psyche to betray Cupid's trust by looking at him. This causes Psyche to be exiled, forced by Aphrodite to complete tasks in order to be reunited with Cupid. Written by Karen Lund and directed by Marianne Savell, the show not only captures the essence of Lewis’s story, which explores sisterhood, identity, and what it really means to love sacrificially, but also enriches it through visual metaphor and excellent acting. 

The protagonist, Psyche’s older sister Orual, is played by two actresses who circle each other across time and memory mere feet from the audience. When the story begins, the young Orual is not yet out of her teenage years, while the elder Orual is nearing death's door. As time goes on, they grow closer and closer in age and experience. Their interactions portray Orual’s struggle for identity, which defines both the story and its exploration of what loving someone else means when you don’t quite know who you are.

Orual narrates the tale of her relationship with Psyche and her sister's eventual godhood from memory. As she speaks, the events unfold before our eyes. We watch alongside her in joy as she frolics in the fields of her youth and gaze in horror as Psyche is sacrificed to appease the gods.

Throughout the first act, the elder Orual simply speaks and watches. She lingers, unnoticed by the other characters who go about the business of living, unaware that they are being observed. Orual's observation is not entirely passive, however. Candace Vance, the actress who plays the elder Orual, spends the show intricately crafting every shift in countenance. Even in moments where her character is silent, her face and body are expressive. She leans in longingly when Psyche moves near and grimaces in remembered pain at a strike or a harsh word. When her younger self loses a necklace, she briefly touches her unadorned neck where it used to hang.

The audience had the option of watching two performances simultaneously: the actors telling the broader story, or Orual and her moments of passing grief and golden nostalgia. Both options were equally compelling, and I was at times torn between focusing on Orual’s emotive expressions and the compelling personas of the other characters. 

Actor Nolan Palmer cut an impressive figure as the selfish and rageful king. The king is a cruel father who desperately wants a son and hates his daughters as a result of his impotence. He willfully sacrifices Psyche in order to appease the gods and his mutinous people. Palmer’s words tore forth with frightening intensity, eyes flashing with believable cruelty and neglect. His jolly counterpart named Fox, Orual and Psyche’s paternal figure, was the perfect mix of coy humor and touching sentimentality. His character drank from the cups of sacrifice and joy in equal measure and doled out wisdom in accordance with this experience. 

Ayo Tushinde likewise embodied her role as Psyche with complete totality. I was initially unsure of her performance since, in the beginning of the show, she plays a child and, despite her best efforts at childishness, is almost painfully adult. However, as the character approached a more appropriate age, her impressive command of her energy became clear. As a young adult, Psyche is hopeful, energetic, and ever so slightly naive. She does not exude even a hint of immortality. As the story progresses, Psyche grows into herself and becomes a goddess, necessitating a change in the character of her presence. Tushinde understands how to carry herself. She effortlessly transitions from youthful naivety to an ethereal softness that makes you understand why someone would worship her – an impressive display of her quality acting chops.

The second act focuses on Orual's relationship with herself. The young and old Orual grow more and more intertwined, eventually integrating within the performance. Throughout this process, costumes are used to both distinguish and connect the two characters, eventually revealing that they are perhaps not so distinct after all. This artful use of costuming emphasizes the impact our relationship with ourselves has on our love for others. Orual learns that she was not as selfless as she once believed, and this realization allows her to forgive—a powerful reminder of the agency we have in our lives.

Each detail of the book was accurately depicted, resulting in a lengthy run time of just under three hours. The show may have benefited by including fewer scenes from Orual’s childhood or slightly shortening the monologues that slowed the story's pace. Ultimately, though, the multifaceted nature of the performance and the comfortable intermission, replete with excellent lemon scones and cozy seating, made the length not just manageable but enjoyable. The extensive run time also allowed the characters and their relationships to fully develop in a way that few shows manage.

The attention to detail and intimate atmosphere of Taproot Theatre’s Till We Have Faces make it the perfect production for anyone who finds themself uncertain of their identity, angry with the world, or longing for a delicious baklava and high quality entertainment on a quiet night. 

Lead photo: From left: Jeff Allen Pierce as Priest, Ayo Tushinde as Psyche, and Nolan Palmer as King in Taproot Theatre's production of Till We Have Faces (January 2026). Photo by Giao Nguyen.

The TeenTix Newsroom is a group of teen writers led by the Teen Editorial Staff. The Teen Editorial Staff is made up of 5 teens who curate the review portion of the TeenTix blog. For each review, Newsroom writers work individually with a teen editor to polish their writing for publication. 

The TeenTix Press Corps promotes critical thinking, communication, and information literacy through criticism and journalism practice for teens. For more information about the Press Corps program see HERE.