nytheatre Archive
FringeNYC 2000

Playwright Dan O'Brien is certainly a writer to watch and thanks to the skills of the Project Y Theatre Company, this year's Fringe NYC audiences get a strong production of O'Brien's funny new play. Taking place in a coffee shop, Either/Or is made up of three vignettes about relationships and the foibles of communication: two men meeting for the first time, two women with a man in common, and a man and woman discussing the state of their sex life.

O'Brien's language takes surprising turns, making the piece feel like an absurd comedy of manners, very now and very hip in a disarming way. Either/Or does feel a little unfinished though. While the individual scenes are extremely tight and well-paced, the piece needs to make a more unusual comment about its well-worn subject if its individual strengths are to add up to a dramatic whole (as opposed to three related skits).

The production, however, is so strongly acted that it often overshadows this problem. The acting is, quite simply, uniformly excellent. Megan Byrne and Kate Debelack are extremely funny as the meat-smacking duo in the second scene, and Tyson Lien is oddly affecting as the empty and neurotic Dashiel in the play's finale. If this production is any indication of what Project Y is capable of, Washington, DC is lucky to have such a strong new theatre company in its midst, doing work aimed at theatregoers in their twenties and thirties. Brave the four flights of steps up to WOW's black box and you will be happily entertained with the charming Either/Or.

Fans of films like Trainspotting and in-your-face theatre like Shopping and Fucking will want to catch Disco Pigs by Irish playwright Enda Walsh at this year's Fringe NYC. Given a strong college production by Temple directing student Nina Deely, the play hits all the right buttons. 

Brother and sister Pig and Runt celebrate their seventeenth birthday by getting in fights with locals at the pub and by luring Runt's prospective suitor outside the disco so he can be rewarded with Pig's fist. Things only escalate as Pig becomes more sexually attracted to his twin sister, reaching a head when he fantasizes about consummation during an episode of Baywatch. Much of Walsh's play relies on a kind of sensationalism that has become all too common and, as a result, it doesn't register as either startling or profound. While certain moments are funny, Disco Pigs does not have much staying power as a comment about contemporary youth culture and the play's surprise ending is anything but surprising.

But regardless of the play's problems, the two actors (Katherine Buenaflor and Tobias Segal) are so full of piss and vinegar as the troubled teens that they take the audience along for the joy ride, spouting out their lines with venom and accents so thick it becomes poetic. The day I saw the production the pacing was slightly off in the slower sections, but I got the feeling that once Buenaflor and Segal settled into the groove of hectic Fringe Festival life, the show would pack quite a wallop.

Director Nina Deely provides exciting visuals to correspond to the play's energy and the opening moments, done in silhouette behind a thick sheet of paper, are startling and exciting. To catch a glimpse of the anger across the pond, I recommend checking out this energetic production of a not especially original play.

Avoiding Less Blue is a delightful fantasy about the awakening of a troubled woman's slumbering soul. Cypress is a narcoleptic: fearful and anxious about going out and meeting people, she has shut herself into her apartment for nearly two weeks. She's in danger of losing her job and it seems likely that she will never pursue her dream of becoming a TV talk show hostess like her idol, Oprah Winfrey.

But Cypress senses that things may be changing for her. She's started talking to her hat rack, for one thing; for another, she's actually gotten out of bed this morning and is planning to get herself to work. 

It turns out that the poltergeist in Cypress's hat rack is very real indeed: it's an emissary from Above, in fact, come to recall Cypress's bossy guardian angel. Playwright Katie Rubin weaves the fantastical elements of her good-natured story easily and happily: rather than giving them away here, I urge you to see this upbeat and unassuming little charmer for yourself.

Avoiding Less Blue is enthusiastically and skillfully performed by Courtney Munch, Kimmarie Lynch, Stacie Ponder, Katie Rubin, and Denise Willbanks. No director is credited, but the goofy, energetic staging is just right for the piece. My only quibble is an ending that feels more forced (and perhaps more tongue-in-cheek) than the piece deserves. Nevertheless, it's still a pleasure to watch: go ahead and put it on your list. 

[Note: Angry Little People was produced earlier this summer as part of a two-day festival called Eve's Apple. The paragraphs below are excerpted from the nytheatre.com review of the festival.]

The theatre company Screaming Venus says that its mission is "to provide opportunities for women in the theatrical industry" and  "to bring the experimental and avant-garde back to off-off-Broadway theatre." Worthy objectives, both, and well-served by their latest endeavor, a festival of one-woman performance pieces presented in two programs under the umbrella title Eve's Apple. This is a laboratory, remember, and a lot of the work presented here isn't done yet. But there's talent in abundance in Eve's Apple, and--in a couple of cases--some exciting new discoveries to be made. 

Diversity is the hallmark here, both in terms of content and form. The seven short works included in Eve's Apple run the gamut from monologue to avant-garde cut-up text to out-and-out performance art; topics covered vary from the most intimate feelings about language and gender to blatant socio-political satire and commentary. What they have in common is the unstoppable desire to get our attention and make us listen. Some deliver their messages more effectively than others, but there's never any doubt that the women responsible for these pieces, onstage and off, have something significant to say.

Angry Little People is the strongest piece in Series A, at least in part because its text, taken from work by the late Philip-Dimitri Galas, is so evocative and powerful; but also because it's performed beautifully by Margaret Cino, under the sensitive direction of her collaborator Carolyn Raship. Angry Little People is hardly a play in the traditional sense, yet it's the most fully-realized dramatic work in the festival. It's the internal monologue of a desperate woman, examining her stifling existence as she sees it and as it's seen by others. With extraordinary delicacy and subtlety, Cino gets under this woman's skin and lets us experience the tragedy of her life almost from within. Very special stuff indeed.

Making their second appearance at FringeNYC, the infamous Swiss comedy duo Ursus & Nadeschkin (U & N) are once again foisting Synchronized Swimming: The Dry Version upon an unsuspecting audience.  The run, like the length of the Fringe itself, is shockingly brief.  The show, like U & N themselves, demands to be seen.  It may not be theater, and it certainly isn’t stand-up; what it is depends mainly on what you bring to the experience.

What’s clear is that U & N (he, Ursus; she, Nadeschkin) are blessed with a serious gift for shtick.  They juggle, dance, and mime like it’s nobody’s business.  What separates Swimming from your average clown act are U & N themselves.  Onstage, they are a neurotic mess, a highly unstable pair obsessed with detail and wordplay.  Their stage personae are as memorable as their personality-defining outfits:  she’s a loud, outgoing free spirit in yellow overalls, her blonde hair gnarled into spiky dreadlocks; he’s a sad sack in well-worn blazer, a young, dark, drab Bertolt Brecht.

Though most of the show is performed in English with occasionally forays into Swiss-German (the effect of which is hysterically funny), language really is secondary here.  The act consists primarily of skits grounded in physical comedy – some, all, or none of which may be improvised.  Regardless, the level of inventiveness is consistently astounding:  one minute he’s miming an Aspen tree, the next he’s juggling bowling pins.  One minute she’s doing her spot-on impression of a fax machine, the next she’s destroying “I Want To Be Loved By You,” riddling it with high-pitched squeals.

Not all of it works, and the less-developed bits carry a disconcerting air of desperation directly at odds with the more polished sections.  Ultimately, however, whether they’re tossing props to one another or prepping the audience for an encore which (they swear) will be entirely spontaneous, U & N fail to disappoint.

According to their publicity materials, Swimming “is about a man and a woman’s struggle to make you feel good.”  On that level, Ursus & Nadeschkin succeed wildly.  It may not be the most thought-provoking show on the Fringe, but as a refreshing and thoroughly original take on the age-old tradition of clowning, it’s cause for celebration.

Watching Julia Barclay's Word to Your Mama conjured up two intense memories in my mind, one disturbing and one of utter excitement. First, I recalled my father obsessively watching videos of the Gulf War set to heavy metal music and the gloom it produced in me. Second, I remembered the sensation of seeing Richard Foreman for the first time when I realized that theatre can change the way you see the world. These two disparate memories are a testament to the power of both Barclay and her cast's work. Simply put, Word to Your Mama is a must-see at Fringe NYC.

The three night secretaries (Nicole Higgins, Monica Sirignano, Kate Ward) lead the audience through the linguistic detritus of our age in order to figure out if redemption is still possible. From the opening work-out routine done to the sounds of Patti Smith's "Rock'n'Roll Nigger" to the continued ironic refrain of "I'm so glad you like my work," Word charts the frustration of living in the country of plenty while also believing that "surplus is immoral."

The three performers deliver their lines with such a frenzy of energy and conviction that I could not help but be enraptured. The production is a first-rate example of what playwright Suzan-Lori Parks calls the "drama of accumulation," where the meaning and the pleasure come not from following a narrative or identifying with a character, but from the accretion of words, pictures and sensations. I walked away from the experience not feeling defeated or overwhelmed, but exhilarated. Word left me with the sense that while all is not well with the world, the very act of surviving is political; to not give in is to say no to the status quo. Or as the play's defiant closing line puts it, "I'm still here motherfucker," and don't you forget it. See Screaming Venus's production of Word to Your Mama. It is a rare theatrical moment that rewards its audience's efforts ten-fold.

My Fringe NYC viewing got off to a propitious start with DNA, a smart, funny, immensely satisfying little play by Christina Gorman. Just 30 minutes long, DNA is a sci-fi cautionary tale, and also a pungent domestic comedy of manners: the sort of engaging, self-contained playlet that used to air on The Twilight Zone. It's also the kind of show that makes my job difficult, for the less I tell you about DNA, the better your experience will be.

So suffice to say that DNA explores the still-uncharted waters of genetic engineering that its title suggests; and that it examines, with great wit and heart, the superficiality and the depth of a pair of contemporary urbanites. Half the fun of this play is getting tuned into its rhythm and deciphering its code; the other half is setting aside whatever baggage you brought into the theatre (some of it, no doubt, related to how you feel about the topics raised here) and letting yourself get caught up in the savvily-crafted suspense of DNA's married couple's situation.

Kelly Gillespie's staging is sharp and crisp. Carrie Keranen and John Michael Norman are excellent as the married couple Margaux and Stephen, showing us the intimacies they share--and the ones they hide from one another--with remarkable authenticity.

Indeed, in terms of writing, performance, staging, and production values, DNA is thoroughly professional: most impressive for the first performance on the first day of Fringe NYC.

The Infinity Six Versus Half a Dozen of the Other has a catchy title, some truly off-the-wall and original comic ideas, some sharp writing, and a couple of performers who are unswervingly in-step with its perversely surreal sensibility. On the other hand, the show is at least thirty minutes too long, and virtually every sketch could use some judicious cutting; the staging is on the sloppy side; and some of the acting feels at odds with the material. On the third hand, the performance I reviewed was only the third one of this brand new (and clearly still formative) work: with pruning and polishing, The Infinity Six can be made to realize its potential. So for now, I'm inclined to be optimistic, and suggest that this show will hit its stride by the time it plays in the Fringe Festival.

I say this because I believe that buried inside the current, somewhat bloated incarnation of The Infinity Six is a canny and interesting piece of work. It's superficially built like a play, but what it really seems to be is a long-form sketch comedy revue, on the order of Monty Python's Flying Circus. Author Jeffrey Alexander Lewonczyk has crafted a string of zany, surreal skits and linked them together cunningly with recurring characters and themes and/or self-conscious but effective transitions.

There's no shortage of fine comic ideas. Among the ones that I liked best: an office located at the center of the earth where three immortals sit at typewriters, listing every possible manifestation of reality (example: a reality where Adolph Hitler survived the war and eventually sent a personal apology to every Jew); an inordinately loquacious inventor talking around the idea of developing a perpetual motion machine; and two guys comparing notes on a pair of pretentious art films entitled The Crusoe Desperado and Bye Bye My Demon in the Sand. There are plenty more, and Lewonczyk supplies just the right kind of far-fetched detail to fill each of these sketches out. His eclectic sensibility (and sense of the absurd) keeps us constantly surprised.