"A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it." - Oscar
by Edward Crosby Wells
Directed by Steven Thornburg
by Louis Lopardi
A reviewer likes a play with lots of ideas; it gives lots to write about, making the job easier. Unfortunately for this one, it is on the surface a dreadful play; but a dreadful play with lots of ideas.
Author Edward Crosby Wells is capable of so much more: his plays "Flowers Out Of Season" and "Leaving Tampa" for example, or the witty "Curse Of The Spider Woman," or brilliant comedy with depth "Three Guys In Drag Selling Their Stuff." While the overall feel of this play's construction is early Albee, the admittedly rock-solid characterizations are given opening (and sometimes later) dialogue which is pure David Mamet - an unpleasant coupling of the profoundly inarticulate with kitchen-sink drama. It is the sort of thing often spoofed in modern playwright courses. But then, I personally feel this is not a language play. It is a sex play.
Erotic situations and stimulating (controversial) language are the tools of the rough-trade play. As "crotch theatre" goes, this is at least intelligent and well crafted eroticism; but spare us please the slathering of mysticism and pseudo-philosophy. Unlike the eroticism, the ideas are suggested but not understood. And the concepts come thick and fast indeed in the second half of the play: fundamentalism; determinism; transmigration of souls; animism; totemism . . . More than enough to keep a Director (and a critic) happily busy. Here, however, they are bandied about in titillating flashes reminiscent of what in the Opera world is unfairly labeled Eurotrash - all concept and contrast but no real substance.
This is a vehicle play - a work which while in itself passable as theatre, does offer a good vehicle for the company: actors, designers, directors, etc. And the company here made pretty good use of it. Director Steven Thornburg kept it moving; the preachy moments were kept light and palatable, albeit sometimes at the sacrifice of depth-of-the-moment. A fair bargain.
Adam Mervis has the more difficult job. He created a totally believable character of the street trash Buck. This character's inner journey, hidden by all the metaphysical clutter, was solidly there in the actor's grasp. He had a self-assurance and poise that carried him through awkward stage movements, something better movement coaching could easily fix.
The chronically closeted older man was played by John Rengstorff who gave us an object lesson in adapting purely classical acting to a modern play. While his body couldn't compete with the hardened street hustler, he always knew what his body was about, and his voice control was a direct extension of that. His character, even when meek and cowed, nonetheless commanded our attention. Each drop of a shoulder or eyebrow told volumes about the inner person. In his hands even picking a shirt off a couch became a heartbreaking gesture.
There was an extended Tango scene which nobody in the company seemed to know what to do with, in part because of the nudity (How about a Fight Director; it is a tango after all). The miserable sound system of the Chasama Theatre defeated even the usually impeccable Thomas Hasselwander's design. There was excellent costuming by Anthony Fusco, and Jim Stewart used the repertory lighting plot to advantage. The publicity graphics for the play were extraordinary, capturing the essence of much dichotomy of flesh vs. spirit. (uncredited, but probably Edward Crosby Wells).
The play, which already has a performing history under auspices of The Glines, will soon go on to a third incarnation at Wings Theatre on Christopher Street.