By Alix Cohen
“Of Adam’s first wife, Lilith, it is told/ (The witch he loved before the gift of Eve,)/ That, ere the snake’s, her sweet tongue could deceive…” Dante Gabriel Rosetti
Jewish folklore tells us Lilith was fashioned from the same earth as Adam and refused to be subordinate to him. She fled Eden rather than submit, transforming from obscure demon into the original liberated woman—seductive, dangerous, and unwilling to play second fiddle. The story is not, as commonly assumed, in Genesis. It’s also not exactly this story.
Playwright Adina Aaron begins with poetic dialogue in short phrases rather than sentences: “Two great lights unite us…She fills me…He touches me…” Every move is awkward. The couple begin under soft netting,sometimes narrating,sometimes addressing one another. I admit to thinking ninety minutes of the writing style might be trying, but it quickly evolves, not to colloquialism, but to supple fluency.
Netting is shed. “I want to ride her,” Adam declares. They make brief love. He’s adoring, but a bit rough. She tells him. Lilith (Sophia Victoria Deler) and Adam (Erik Ohno Dagoberg) are created for one another, yet there’s something amiss almost from beginning. “It seems you want to be closer to God than to me,” she says – mounting him. They ask each other whether they’re happy.
Deler magnetically walks the line between devotion and the lure of self sovereignty. That the actor credibly embodies both reflects considerable skill.
Lilith takes an apple and bites before Adam can stop her. She pushes the fruit into his mouth. He bites – but spits it out. “You’re a danger!” he declares. “Fuck you Adam,” comes the retort. “A sharpness in my spine… I start to burn,” prefaces her sprouting diaphanous wings. (See opening photo) We hear a storm. She leaves the garden. (‘Love the rusty gate sound.)
“I’d rather nothing than life alone!” Adam wails. Lilith explores – outside. “Turn back!” voices warn. “I do not belong in Eden. I am not his or yours either,” she defiantly asserts. When Adam awakes clutching his side, Eve (Bryanna Marie Felipe) is beside him. “Everything that came before has to have been a dream,” he confusedly muses.
Life is new and marvelous to his new mate. Even speech must be learned. Semi-articulate sounds are believable, beautifully handled. She exults in Adam; an insect, a flower, berries, earth itself. Time passes. Eve bleeds (pink cloth) “Do you think this is because of what we did?” she innocently asks.
As Eve, Felipe is guileless, a marvel to watch. Dagoberg palpably inhabits Adam’s astonishment and gratitude. When he leaves to commune with God, the character almost swaggers.
Lilith observes the couple. She finds Eve beautiful and approaches. They’re powerfully drawn. A dialogue opens. The universe shifts. Angels warn them away from one another, but the women continue to meet. “I hope you understand that you are in the deepest sense free,” Lilith tells Eve. There’s no ulterior motive, no malice.
Adam, Eve, and Lilith face one another bringing in elements of sexuality, obedience, freedom, jealousy, and female solidarity. One can’t blame Adam, though this is clearly a woman’s perspective.
Lilith refuses to be subjugated by someone who doesn’t treat her as an equal. She denies limitation. Eve’s journey, aided by her sister under the skin, reflects awareness mirroring current mores. All pervasive love is envisioned. Still, choices must be made. Eve is pregnant with her first child. The baby is born. One couple will exit Eden. It’s not what you think.
This is author Adina Aaron’s first full play. It arrives with a mature and unique voice.
Director Samantha Ozeas helms the play with finesse. It seamlessly flows; not a move extraneous. Characters are relatable despite mythic origin. Emotion migrates across faces. Use of a ladder, a rug, the tree is adroit.
Visuals are wonderful. The tree of knowledge, varied sinewy green cloth twined to embrace apples, is immensely evocative. Below- a circle of carpet, now earth, now water. Beside- an enormous moon. (Ningning Renee Yang)
Costumes (Paola Castaneda), graceful, white coverings with slits, (Lilith’s has a turquoise sash) appear mythic.
Kudos to Intimacy Director Hannah Kunce whose work is lusty, believable, and balletic.
NOTE: The program cover is misleading. Ignore it.
Photos by Mel Hyde
Opening: Sophia Victoria Deler (Lilith) & Erik Ohno Dagoberg (Adam)
Photos by
Lilith by Adina Aaron
Directed by Samantha Ozeas
The Tank 312 West 36th Street
Through August 22, 2026
