Fresh Mountain Air. Drayton Arms Theatre.

Lana Del Rey’s ode to female unity and resilience, God Bless America And All the Beautiful Women In It, forms the soundscape to the overlong opening scene of Michael Eichler’s thin three-hander Fresh Mountain Air. One supposes director Penny Gkritzapi places the song there ironically. Neither America nor its women emerge from the piece, an odd mash-up of modern gothic horror, highly improbable plot twists, and liberal hand-wringing, looking particularly beautiful.

A secluded, mobile and internet-free cabin in the woods run by folksy host Miranda is the location for an all-women hiking weekend. First-time hiker and real-estate agent Alissa (Julianna Galassi) has flown in from Houston for the event, determined to overcome her weak bladder and longstanding phobia towards forests. Joining her are irritable and abrasive Colorado lawyer Lesley (Olivia Cordell gets the best of a meagre evening’s fare) and uber-woke San Francisco not-for-profit worker Kayla (Julia Thurston oozes smug progressive self-righteousness).  The three strangers share a thin veneer of liberalism and a dislike of Trump but have little else in common.

Returning from the first day’s hike, the unlikely trio find their rental cars missing, Miranda absent, and the landline cut. A handily placed portable radio announces a prison break from a nearby maximum security facility. Serendipitously, Miranda (or it could be Chekhov) has left a gun in the kitchen drawer, perhaps in anticipation of this exact scenario. Luckily, being from Texas and “a walking tribute to the Houston public school system,” Alissa knows how to shoot.

Curiously unpanicked and convincing themselves of their safety, the three women soon crack open the vin rouge, have a sing-song, and engage in a bout of extended progressive extemporising about gender politics, immigration, racism, and the perils of pigeonholing African Americans as potential criminals. Well, why wouldn’t they? Subsequently, a sinister black male figure in what could be a prison uniform appears outside the cabin. Events spiral dangerously.

One imagines Eichler’s target in Fresh Mountain Air is weak-willed middle-class liberals who all-too-easily succumb to the kind of easy racist stereotyping they claim to despise in others. Underneath the trio’s progressive patina lies the basest of metal. Fair enough as an argument, the problem here (setting aside the fact the plot creaks and the ending makes little sense) is that the women themselves are so thinly drawn.

Eichler attempts some backstory in Act Two to flesh his characters out, but it is half-hearted at best and mainly detracts from the piece’s slender momentum. These three women emerge as cyphers for American angst rather than fully fledged credible people, meaning very little here feels at stake for anyone. Mysteriously absent host Miranda is better off out of it all.

STAR RATING:  2 stars

Writer:  Michael Eichler

Director:  Penny Gkritzapi