by CHRIS DAVIS

Memphis' Our Own Voice (OOV) Theatre Company is Washington, D.C. bound. The activist theater troupe's artistry and dedication to experimental forms have brought them a broader audience than might be expected for an organization focused on mental-health issues. And if they can raise enough money, they'll perform their original play The Passion of Joni Dark at a conference held by MindFreedom Support Coalition International, a group of grassroots organizations and self-described "survivors" or the health-care system. The help defray travel costs, Our Own Voice revived Joni Dark for two performances at the University of Memphis' lab theater last week, the second of which was well-attended by an exuberant audience of students, academics, and curiosity seekers.

At 8 p.m., the doors to the theater had yet to open, and audience members chatted and milled about in the hall. Occasionally, a perfectly normal-looking, impeccably groomed, stranger would offer an unexpected handshake.

"I don't believe we've met," they'd say. "I'm Penny Sayles." Or "I'm Danny Druggrep." Or "I'm Dr. Bill." It was all part of the show, a politically charged deconstruction of Joan of Arc set inside a modern "reality show." It goes without saying that Joni Dark is a ferociously personal take on St. Joan coming from a company whose membership includes more than a few people who are reasonably acquainted with the voices in their heads.

Upon settling into place, the audience was greeted as "the live studio audience" for the Dr. Bill show, a program modeled after the Dr. Phil show, and sponsored almost entirely by drug companies. Between segments, actual pharmaceutical commercials were performed live and the endless lists of unpleasant, debilitating, and deadly side effects elicited laughter and horror in equal doses. Before he show started in earnest the audience was instructed -- talk-show style -- when to clap and when to laugh, reflecting the conformist, consumer structures brought about by competing drug companies who market pharmaceuticals like George Foreman markets grills. Once the rules were in place and the audience learned how to applaud together, Dr. Bill confronted young Joni Dark, a girl who dresses like a boy, hears voices, will only repeat the "under God" line in the Pledge of Allegiance, and believes she's been personally claled by God to oppose the war in Iraq. Dr. Bill, brimming with "tough love," drives home his points: Joni needs meds. She needs to be like everybody else. And above all, she needs to wear a dress.

Joni Dark's angry anti-war sentiments may undermine its greater purpose, which is to raise awareness about the impact of consumer culture on those who suffer from mental illness. If the Terri Schiavo case proved anything, it's that even pro-war conservatives can be as mortified as any knee-jerk lefty by the government's intrusion into personal affairs. And even sympathetic ears can grow tired of Joni's fierce anti-American rants. But if there were detractors in the Saturday-night crowd, they kept mum, and after the play's firey climax, the audience burst onto the stage to thank and congratulate the actors.

All of this brings up a much bigger question: If thousands of people with severe and persistent mental illnesses protest in the streets of Washington, who will notice?

In June, Our Own Voice will revive The Passion of Joni Dark and Imagination, One, a more positive take on the health-care system, for a mental-health Symposium at First Congregational Church in Midtown.