nytheatre Archive
FringeNYC 2002
SHOW REVIEWS ON THIS PAGE: Stagedive, Chicken Soup For The Absurdist Soul, Before The Fire, Alice, Alien Even Then, Pick-Up 6, Spanked!, Living London, The Bizarro Bologna Show, Game Legs, Refugees, Slice Of Life Number 99
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STAGEDIVE by Lee Ramsey |
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Stagedive, a collection of six short sketches by six young
writers, shows a lot of promise and introduces us to several interesting
new voices. The six pieces: The Pledge, the strongest piece of the evening, is a humorous indictment of abstinence and peer pressure. Jesus is Cool, Man... is a corporate, modern day morality play in which the actors seemed somewhat unsure and a bit underrehearsed. Basic Count is a one woman show which was not performed on the evening I attended because, according to the program, "it is lost and cannot be found." The Conquest of Evil is the tale of a real life comic book villain and his struggle with good and evil. Tin Can Alley is a short blackout sketch about a slick reporter and a beer-loving redneck in the aftermath of a tornado. And Beauty of the Beasts, the evening’s final and possibly most ambitious offering, features a cast of seven competing in a beauty pageant for endangered species in which the victor will be allowed to procreate. The selections all displayed original ideas and interesting points of view, but would have benefited from some editing, especially The Conquest of Evil. Also, one director instead of six would have given the overall production more focus and a stronger and more uniform style. That said, the plays did all seem to fit together well to make up an energetic program. The actors, many of whom wrote and directed the plays, were somewhat unsteady. Pieces like this require the courage to make larger than life choices, and only two, Mary F. Unser and Johanna Saum, seemed to have an understanding of what the material demanded. Despite the evening’s unevenness, FringeNYC is a great outlet for this type of material to be developed and refined. |
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CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE ABSURDIST SOUL by Mark O’Toole |
When do we cross the line between just plain silly and the absurd? The "absurd" plays by Beckett, Ionesco, Pinter and others all share the view that man inhabits a universe with which he is out of key. Its meaning is indecipherable and his place within it is without purpose. He is bewildered, troubled, obscurely threatened and suffers from an "itchy stomach." As a result, absurd plays assumed a highly unusual, innovative form, directly aiming to startle the viewer, shaking him out of this comfortable, conventional life of everyday concerns. The Theatre of the Absurd openly rebels against conventional theatre. While Chicken Soup for the Absurdist Soul is an admirable attempt to deal with the genre of the absurd in today’s politically correct world, the play falls short of its mark. The writing at times is inconsistent with its goal of creating an absurd world in which the central point is: can you live life without the ability to escape reality? (As there were no program notes I can only assume that was this production’s intention.) Eugene, an overwrought, nervous young man, played by Grady Dennis, arrives at a doctor’s office seeking help. What is wrong with him at this point, no one knows. What is clear is that the attendant nurse (Diane Mashbum) has more problems than her erstwhile patient. Three doctors in a well-choreographed scene perform all sorts of absurd tests and diagnose Eugene with having "excessive tumic"; in essence, Eugene is humor impaired. In homage to real absurdity, the antidote is delivered by a sock puppet, who is the play’s central figure. Doctor Number 1 (Jesse Shafer) showed he understood comic timing, while the straightest acting came from Chuckles, the sock puppet, played by a Kennedyesqe Harrison Butler. I felt the play wasn’t absurd enough. At times events were more silly and Tourette-like than absurd. The play suffers from poor pacing (at times there was nothing happening on stage) and loose direction. Overall, the play needs a sharper, more focused effort to pull off clever absurdity. In the end, the line between silly and absurd became blurred, and I failed to see the point as I left the Red Room, feeling a little "tumic." |
| BEFORE THE FIRE by Ivanna Cullinan |
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Before the Fire is a great example of how little you need to make
solid theatre. This first production by Johnny Belle, a company
dedicated to providing a home for Southern artists in New York, uses the
minimal features of Arthur’s Dress Shop to create a London jail cell in
1666. With few lights and basic set pieces, and despite a barely
functional level of costuming, Catherine Sanderlin’s able cast creates a
full, vivid and entertaining theatrical event. Set at the time of both a devastating outbreak of the plague and the Great Fire, the play weaves together the lives of five women from different backgrounds in ways they could not have conceived of prior to their imprisonment. Although towards the end the volume of connections did strain my belief a bit, I was caught up in the story deeply enough not to be distracted. This is a world that sees a whore and a Puritan to be equally threatening to the civil order. All of the women are threats in ways they do not necessarily perceive. Written by Catherine Trieshmann, Before The Fire uses its strong narrative voice to focus on a variety of women’s lives (a Lady, a Puritan, a gypsy, an informer/whore, and a thief) and their lack of personal sovereignty. In a chaotic time, they all are desperate for connection. The two women from the higher levels of society refer constantly to men they believe to be their emotional bulwarks. The women from the lower classes maneuver for the attention of the child thief (engagingly played by Rachel Mewbron). Not only is each woman’s sense of allegiance revealed to be illusory or unstable, they cannot even rely upon the fragile alliances they make among each other. Their own preconceptions are manipulated by the other women and by unseen guards, causing them each to constantly question who can be trusted. The ensemble is talented and they make the most of the many possibilities in this text. Johnny Belle has provided a solid evening of theatre. |
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ALICE by Ivanna Cullinan |
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If we live in a wired society, where does it connect to theater?
In their exploration of this thought, the LIDA Project presents its current version of Alice. They assert the piece is "…a continually evolving experiment that explores the balance of traditional theatre, technology, abstract philosophy and storytelling". As part of their larger "(2): Good – Evil (3):: Experiment," the work on stage is supported by and partially developed through a website, www.good-evil.org. The website allows the individual to respond to and engage with others, making the Internet (machine) experience active. This performance piece is less directed towards their "user" (human) experience, as it is designed without much consideration of how the audience participates. It is somehow oddly static and confined by its intellectualism. Using various writings of Lewis Carroll as a starting point, a very polished ensemble enters murmuring a text that is broken down to letters and builds back into words. They then flow through a nonlinear sequence which roams from direct quotes ("At the time, it all seemed so very natural"), to sketches enacting websites you might/might not connect with the themes of Alice in Wonderland (militia? meat? porn?), to anagrams based on the letters that spell Lewis Carroll. It almost feels as if the piece is a randomized list of responses to the query "lewis carroll". There are interesting moments but too often the enactment of the idea is longer than the thought—I am ready to move on, but can’t skip their Flash. On a practical level, their lighting created part of the distance between the piece and me. Alice is lit only by small fluorescent lighting pieces placed across the stage. As a concept, that may connect to the glare of a monitor, but it’s very hard on the eyes. I wasn’t expecting visual fatigue from an hour-long piece. There is an enormous amount of thought within this piece, it is highly developed and quite deliberate. It is not, however, particularly theatrical and less successful in communicating with its live audience than that on the Internet. |
| ALIEN EVEN THEN by Robin Reed |
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Temporary distortion’s Alien Even Then is a testament to the
essence of live theater: experiencing something in the moment. The
minute you walk into the La Tea Theatre you get a sneaking suspicion
that you’re in for a ride. Where you’re going is not as important as how
it’s going to make you feel along the way. You’re locked into a
not-so-temporarily distorted barrage of moments that will stick with you
long after your exit. Writer/director/designer Kenneth Sean Collins deftly paints his eerie dream world with red neon and dim light bulbs set sparingly about the stage. On one lamp hangs a picture of a man, and on another, a picture of a woman. You know that soon the people in these pictures will be haunting you. Three big red boxes with leather straps are precisely set and await usage. The lights dim further, and the ride inside Collins’ mind begins. The piece, with text and characters loosely based on Kafka’s The Trial, centers around the guilt-ridden K. We find K "suddenly at the edge of nothingness" under constant surveillance and plagued by "the questions that always remain." The perfectly dense soundscape, a blend of text and tediously familiar sounds that have been slowly and deliberately contorted by M. Gregor Filip, invites full sensory participation. You can feel the sound, and feel the guilt that goes with it feeling so good. All three performers exceed the challenge of this piece with supreme subtlety. They are literally confined to using nothing but their posture and the whites of their eyes as their prerecorded words are amplified over them. Marty Lau gives K an everyman-on-the-brink-of-insanity quality with an understated and precise restraint. The physical obstacles of the piece didn’t seem to phase Karin Linner, who found graceful movement throughout. And the chillingly tender vocal performance by Stacey Bare took me right back to that nightclub scene in David Lynch’s Mullholland Drive; her sweetly creepy song is one I won’t soon forget. If you want to fully experience what is FringeNYC, get yourself to the very next showing of Alien Even Then. |
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PICK-UP 6 by Soline McLain |
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Pick-up 6 is the catchy and appropriate title of a collection of
six one-act plays currently playing at the CSV-Milagro Theatre as part
of FringeNYC. The six plays in this evening present a wide variety of
characters and plots, ranging from the story of a couple who are united
in their co-dependence on alcohol to the story of a husband broker who
operates like a real-estate broker. Of these six, the most enjoyable piece of the evening was Light Reading in which an illiterate man meets a teacher in a train station and is inspired to read because of her beauty and because of his desire to continue communication with her via letters. The story is sweetly played out by Jenny Bass as the teacher, Ann, and David A. Green as Martin, the "student" turned writer. The motif of books, started at the beginning (and by the fact that Martin cannot read), is appropriately continued throughout the short piece as each new scene and setting is announced as a new chapter in a book. Lines such as "You can read me like a book" also continue this literary motif. Elsewhere, strong performances are given by Helene Galek, who plays both the co-dependent wife in One in the Oven and the husband-broker in the play of that title. She brought life to both very different roles. Holt Bailey in Where the Sun Don’t Shine, and Victor Barbella and Susan Barrett of Mashed Potatoes, who banter well with each other over the process of cooking mashed potatoes for a Thanksgiving dinner, also give strong performances. Overall, the evening was enjoyable, but I was thankful that some of the plays were specifically written for short attention spans. Pick-up 6 is a wonderful idea and way of supporting new works and authors. I applaud this playwright-initiated project and wish it the best of luck in future fringes. |
| SPANKED! by Andrew Henkes |
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More than just the promised "bibles, belts and bikini briefs,"
Spanked! is a heartfelt and witty autobiographical account of how
actors Aaron Hartzler and Ian MacKinnon came to sort through the pain of
their relationships with their fathers. The play opens with the
biographical stories of their fathers revealed through props, slides,
and hilarious commentary. The pace at the beginning is strong, and I was
immediately impressed by the intelligent language of the piece. One
especially entertaining bit considers the almost hypnotic effect that
underwear models have on young gay men’s psyches. Yet, the exploration turns dark. In contrast to the advertising which focuses on the sexual and comic notes, the show is mostly an exorcism of the paternal abuse which so significantly impacted each of the actors. The title doesn’t refer just to the sexual variety of spanking—the show is partially a dramatic essay on the dangers and consequences of spanking children. With added flourishes of popular music and sexually charged moments, Ian and Aaron also examine fathers who are unable to freely express their love, and the horrible shame felt by a gay child as he realizes that what he feels in his heart is considered wrong. As much as the actors are helping themselves, they are also trying to help the audience members deal with any of the shame they may be carrying within themselves. Not to let the audience feel cheated, they do make the time to include a fascinating demonstration of a sexual spanking, and the show does have plenty of nudity and sexy underwear. Clinical at some moments, and intensely sexual at others, the final part of the show gives the audience a touching and intimate view of their relationship. Still, by its finish, I felt that the show has lost some of its vibrancy after the emotional intensity that carried me through the first hour began to subside. Nonetheless, the show was a highly moving and enjoyable performance which left me asking good questions. |
| LIVING LONDON by Jeffrey Lewonczyk |
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The program notes for Living London declare that the
producers wish to present "a slice of the worldview of humanity
encapsulated in the microcosm of the common life, which, of
course, is anything but common." Judging from the two plays
comprising this double bill, the above statement is actually a
cool-sounding euphemism for a familiar brand of inoffensive
naturalism. Though Wrapped in Gold takes place in a squeaky suburban kitchen, and Hellmouth in a seedy urban pub, the similarities between British playwright Deborah Grimberg’s two one-acts overwhelm the differences. Both plays feature a conflict between an older, conservative sister and a younger, black-sheep sibling; both begin with chunks of mildly quirky introductory dialogue; both climax in a brief outburst between the siblings; and both resolve with a reconciliation, in which the siblings realize they’re only human, after all. Admittedly, a one-act drama is a limiting form with which to depict a "worldview of humanity," but the lack of emotional variety in the structure of these pieces makes them appear more schematic than they might have if viewed in different contexts. Though the emotional stakes of Hellmouth, in which the siblings eventually discuss a dark incident in their past, are higher than those of Wrapped in Gold, in which the tension between sisters is more a matter of routine grievances, neither piece effectively uses the minutiae of everyday living to create a compelling portrait of a world. To be fair, much of this might be attributable to an unfortunate clash between material and venue: the performers, though all able and energetic, struggle to reconcile the material with the difficult acoustics of the Cino Theater, with uneven results. One strains to follow the major turning point of Hellmouth because the space swallows several of one actress’s important but softly spoken lines. It’s debatable, though, just how much subtlety would be required to overcome the relative middle-class safeness of the plays themselves. Little was risked, and therefore little gained. Dramatically speaking, Living London makes "the common life" look pretty common after all. |
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THE BIZARRO BOLOGNA SHOW by Derek T. Bell |
| Dan Piraro describes The Bizarro
Bologna Show, as an "evening of pure bologna in the form of songs,
stories, cartoons, puppets, poetry, clairvoyance, nouns, adjectives and
MUCH, MUCH MORE!" or, alternately, as "a guy jacking around for an hour
and a half." This loose-knit one-man vaudeville is a little bit of both.
From an early bit featuring a pair of argumentative dogs, Bruno and
Steve (played by two very personable hand puppets), through his final
song (accompanying himself on a cartoon guitar), Piraro, creator of the
widely syndicated cartoon "Bizarro" proves himself an amusing host. Bespectacled and casually dressed, Piraro displays a personality that ranges from smug to self–deprecating. And though he occasionally wastes his wit on easy targets (country music, the George Bushes, Sandra Day O’Connor of all people), he more frequently hits pay dirt. His unique take on comic impersonations, his explanation of the difficulty of writing a joke a day while going through a divorce, and his exploration of the question of "just what is a ‘Tambourine Man’, and would you really want him to play for you?" are just three of the more memorable moments. But in the end, Piraro’s cartoons are still the best of what he does. Presented as slides and read aloud, they are highly imaginative, endlessly inventive, and often bust-out-laughing funny. Like all great work, their appeal transcends boundaries. In fact the high point of the show may well have been the laughter of one small child, unable to stop giggling at Piraro’s slightly twisted renderings of classic Dr. Seuss characters (my favorite being the Hippo named Horton who sings for the Who). I am not sure what this all adds up to. But Piraro made me laugh consistently for over ninety minutes. And that’s not bad for a guy just "jacking around." |
| GAME LEGS by Natily Blair |
| I can't stand the sentiment: "now I
know how (refugees, minorities, handicapped people) people feel, because
I saw a play." Gregg Mozgala’s autobiographical show, Game Legs,
is about growing up and struggling with his cerebral palsy. Fortunately,
he hits the nail on the head and smacks your thumb in the process. It’s
an uncomfortable subject, no matter how educated and politically correct
you think you are, and Mozgala doesn't shy away from being shocking.
Game Legs is entertaining, touching and appropriately awkward. With a mix of genres (including a standup routine, a musical number with frog puppets, and "realistic" high school love scenes), the show follows his growth into early adulthood, including the troubles of dating the prettiest girl in school, Annie (Paige Wilson). The bigger issues are more captivating, though. Gregg mentions a feeling of hate and anger toward the able-bodied population for making him feel repulsed by other handicapped persons on the street—that's enthralling, but it's treated like a minor detail. Mozgala’s schoolyard adaptation of Edmond's "legitimate" speech from King Lear is worth the price of admission—grounded, graceful, and deliciously uncomfortable to watch. And there’s a song called "Not In the Navy," in which his parents tell him why he can't be a fighter pilot, that is funny and touching. It’s a little bumpy, (and, on the night I saw it, a little rushed) but director Moritz von Steulpnagel does a fine job of keeping the talented ensemble cast moving. The script employs a few conventions ready for the dust bin—a "dating game" takeoff, for example—but it also includes some fresh dramatic constructs as well. There is an imaginary wounded soldier (Chris Thorn) who teaches Gregg right from wrong. The flashback to a 3rd grade pageant is cute (and gives Julia Henderson and Kathryn Zamora-Benson a chance to shine) and Allen Warnock’s "Meatman" is haunting, offering physical deformity to those who long to wear their "freak" badges on the outside. The unanswered questions in this piece are more compelling than the clichés. Despite the awkwardness of the play, Mozgala’s talent as both writer and performer is obvious, and the questions raised are provocative. This is not an after school special—it’s edgy, bold, and not for the faint of heart. I recommend it to anyone ready to mine for its many hidden gems. |
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REFUGEES by Stephen Graybill |
| As an actor, it is sometimes
difficult to let go of oneself and step into the life of only one other
person. However, in Refugees, showing at Arthur’s Dress Shop,
Stephanie Satie will argue differently. She confronts this difficult
responsibility and steps into the lives of thirteen other people. Portraying a New York City ESL (English as a Second Language) teacher, Satie divulges the past and present issues of thirteen diversely-cultured characters, including herself. In what has been dubbed "theater of testimony," as it is a recreation of Satie’s own experiences, we follow this eclectic group as they become a closer circle of friends, and discover more about their cultural differences, as well as their personal objections with each culture. The writing highlights themes such as feminism and the active discrimination that occurs among the characters. Satie’s script does a good job of displaying the vast cultural differences between the Middle East, Eastern Europe, and America; and how hard it may be for each to accept their differences. Quite apropos one might say. As I watched and listened to Refugees, I wanted to be taken on a journey into the world of the characters at this chosen moment in their lives. Unfortunately, it was a confusing voyage for me, since I was wondering at times who Satie was portraying. I felt uncontrollably drawn to concentrate more on her transitions from character to character than to focus on the dialogue. While each character has his or her own semi-distinctive voice, their personalities are less distinct. To Satie’s credit, she does indicate a change from character to character with separate signature gestures, and pulling off thirteen characters within 90 minutes of a play is a "tour de force," as they say. Refugees turns out to be a rare and educational display from beginning to end. |
| SLICE OF LIFE NUMBER 99 by Pamela Liu |
| A mixture of media and music choices are
creatively put in use in Lindsay Newitter’s Slice of Life Number 99.
This lighthearted and quirky play depicts the daily routine of a sales
woman named Sabrina, who by day has a bland and very commercial job, one
that she seems to be happy enough having. But by night, Sabrina takes
out her subconscious frustrations by using the very product she sells to
destroy the things that represent beauty in her life. Not consciously aware of her dreams, Sabrina cleverly records herself. The idea of taping her dreams/nightmares is intriguing. But does she learn anything from her dream tapes? I liked Newitter’s portrayal of Sabrina and wanted to root for her. I found myself wanting to find out more about what Sabrina was thinking, how she got into her current slice of life, and most importantly will she get to a good place by Number 99. The theme of career and love comes into play. But in the end, I found the message of this abstract play to be somewhat murky. Perhaps it begs the audience to ask these questions: What are the frustrations in your life? Do you acknowledge your frustrations? And finally, how do you work out your frustrations? I think Sabrina would like to know. |
