Another Round for POTUS and the Seven Women Who Rule the Show

By Guest Blogger, Dan Sanchez
Dan holds a BA in Theatre Production from the University of Delaware and has studied theatre around the world. Dan has worked extensively both onstage and behind the scenes across the Mid-Atlantic Region with theaters such as Three Little Bakers, The Candlelight Theatre, the Philadelphia Theatre Project, The Milburn Stone Theatre and Phoenix Festival Theater. 

City Theater Company has unleashed a firecracker of a production with POTUS: Or, Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive — a high-octane farce that is as sharp as it is shameless, as outrageous as it is observant. If you like your comedy fast, fearless, and laced with political bite, take notice.

Written by Selina Fillinger — who was just 28 when the play premiered on Broadway in 2022 under the direction of Delaware’s own five-time Tony Award-winner Susan Stroman — POTUS blends the mechanics of classic door-slamming farce with distinctly modern feminist satire. Think Noises Off meets HBO’s Veep, sharpened for an era hyper-aware of power, image, and the labor women perform behind the scenes.

The inciting incident detonates in the first line. The unseen President of the United States—never fully appearing onstage, in the grand comic tradition of Vera from Cheers — has just referred to the First Lady using a word that rhymes with “blunt” and begins with a “C.” It is jarring. It is vulgar. It is wildly funny. And it sets off a chain reaction that traps seven women inside the White House as they scramble to contain diplomatic, political, and personal fallout.

A word of warning: if strong language offends you, this may not be your evening at the theatre. The script is unapologetically bawdy, profane, and occasionally gleefully lowbrow. But Fillinger’s vulgarity is not gratuitous; it is surgical. She exposes how casually misogyny permeates political spaces, then hands the women the verbal artillery to fight back. On opening night, the Delaware Contemporary’s Black Box Theater shook with laughter — big, rolling waves of it — punctuated by audible gasps that signaled a crowd fully on board.

Director Kristin Finger understands that farce is unforgiving. Timing is oxygen. Miss a beat and the joke suffocates. Here, the pacing is crisp and relentless. Doors fling open and slam with purpose. Physical comedy escalates with cartoon precision. Characters ricochet through the space in tightly choreographed chaos that never feels sloppy. Finger keeps the machine humming at full throttle, trusting both the script and her cast to stick the landing.

And this cast delivers.

POTUS is not a star vehicle masquerading as an ensemble piece. It is a true ensemble — seven women sharing narrative oxygen, each essential to the escalating absurdity. The comedy works because momentum flows seamlessly among them; no single character monopolizes the spotlight, even as individual performances sparkle.

LaNeshe Miller White brings layered strength to Margaret, the First Lady. White resists easy caricature, grounding the character’s frustration and humiliation in carefully constructed public dignity while allowing flickers of rage and razor wit to surface.

Mary Carpenter commands as Harriet, the high-strung bulldog Chief of Staff. With crisp authority and finely calibrated exasperation and obliviousness, Carpenter provides both the spine and the spinelessness of the operation. Her Harriet is all damage control on the surface but simmering with irritation and barely contained rage beneath it.

Jordan Fidalgo’s Chris, the working-mother journalist circling the chaos, threads ambition with moral reckoning. Fidalgo balances sharp comedic beats with an undercurrent of conscience and parental responsibility, giving the character dimension beyond opportunism.

Heron Kennedy’s Dusty, the President’s dalliance — lips bluer than Jack Dawson’s as Rose lets go — injects volatile unpredictability into every entrance. Kennedy embraces the physicality and sensuality of the role, leaning into heightened naïve absurdity while maintaining emotional clarity — a tricky balance in farce, handled deftly here.

Jessica Jordan’s Jean, the cynical and oft-times paranoid Press Secretary, slices through the script’s dense dialogue with razor precision. Her verbal sparring is among the evening’s most satisfying, delivered with confidence and immaculate timing.

Karen Getz as Bernadette, the President’s criminal sister, gleefully detonates decorum. Getz understands exactly how far to push outrageous sexuality and impropriety before snapping it back, mining each moment for maximum comedic payoff.

And then there is Kelsey Hérbert as Stephanie, the President’s secretary. In a cast operating at such a high level, it is no small feat to stand out — yet Hérbert manages to do just that. Her Stephanie begins tentative, almost mousy, clinging to professionalism and struggling to “take up space” in her career. Over the course of the evening, Hérbert charts a beautifully controlled yet chaotic arc of self-possession. Her performance is, without giving too much away, “bloody” brilliant. She navigates slapstick, verbal dexterity, and even a surprising operatic flourish with remarkable ease. While the production thrives on collective strength, Hérbert’s performance lingers, an electric thread running through the ensemble fabric.

What elevates the evening further is the chemistry among the cast. Jokes land not in isolation but in carefully constructed cascades. One woman sets the rhythm; another escalates it; a third detonates it. The audience on opening night leaned forward, roaring with laughter as physical comedy tipped into delicious absurdity. It is rare to feel a room so fully surrendered to a production’s momentum.

If there is a minor critique to be made, it lies in the production design. Rick Nedig’s set is functional within the confines of a black box space but leaves much to the audience’s imagination regarding the inner workings of the White House. Maura Owens’ costumes are serviceable yet lack the specificity and polish one might expect from women operating at the highest levels of political power. In a play that boldly embraces heightened reality, a more distinctive visual palette might have amplified the theatricality. The design never detracts from the action, but it does not quite match the ferocity of the performances. Given the strength onstage, a bolder aesthetic frame may have elevated the production from excellent to unforgettable.

Still, farce lives or dies on performance and pacing, and City Theater Company triumphs where it matters most.

Importantly, POTUS is not about any single administration. The President remains unseen—an amalgamation of ego, entitlement, and oblivious privilege drawn from decades of political archetypes. The satire lands not because it is partisan, but because it is systemic. The women in proximity to power are tasked with cleaning up disasters they did not create, navigating double standards with ingenuity and grit. The humor is broad; the commentary is pointed.

By the final moments, what lingers is not simply the laughter but the collective force of these seven women. They are messy, strategic, furious, vulnerable, ambitious and very, very funny. Fillinger’s script allows them the full spectrum of humanity, and this ensemble embraces it wholeheartedly.

City Theater Company’s POTUS runs through March 7 at The Delaware Contemporary’s Black Box Theater. If you crave theatre that is smart, fast, and unapologetically fun — comedy with teeth and impeccable timing — this is your ticket. Gather your most politically savvy friends or your most chaos-loving ones and prepare to laugh until your sides ache.

Take notice. These women aren’t just keeping the President alive (seriously, they aren’t). They’re keeping Wilmington theatre exhilarating. Visit city-theater.org to grab your tickets today.