weebelly.com

Went to see this at convergence. It was a good time.  Funny play, hits the notes that a funny play should hit.  Not much in the depth department.  Quick story line: guy meets guy in a laundry mat; guy and guy become sexually involved; guy finds out that other guy is Satan (Jack–Lukas Roberts); Satan wants to steal other guy’s body (and ‘hit the gym’) but can only do so by getting the body from a willing partner and by killing an infant (‘they’re like olive oil in Italian cooking: you use them in everything’).

The play has a very droll sense of humor and some very funny lines (per the above). It shoves two stories together to allow for contrasting visions of meaning: the story as described above and the story line in Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov.  I’m a great fan of Crime and Punishment as well as Notes from Underground; but have never read Karamazov, so I don’t know how well the contrast of content works.  I can say from a viewer’s perspective, it does not work as effectively as it probably should, as I was unable to clearly see the parallels.

According to Wikipedia (the source for everything, right?), Karamazov is a “spiritual drama of moral struggles concerning faith, doubt, and reason” and I can certainly see elements of that in Satan.  Obviously, if you’re not a believer in anything and find that you suddenly are dating the chief antagonist in one of the oldest stories in Christendom, then you need to re-think some things.  Themes are balanced as well by difficulties that the main character, Andrew (well-played by Scott Gorbach) has in dealing with his own insecurities and relationships with others (including a fantastically aggressive Bernadette–Laren B. Smith and a saintly Jerrod–Stuart Hoffman).  I also have to give a shout out to my Ranger, Tyson Rand, who kicked ass and stole scenes as the burly bouncer and answering machine (with a phenomenal ponytail).

On the whole the play is fairly flimsy and the seams are visible, especially the moment where the play shifts gears and pushes toward a conclusion.  This is a common problem though with comedies, as one of my friends likes to point out, as there really is no cause for an ending at all but there must, by convention, be one.  Thus, as my friend points out, the true success of Monty Python in avoiding any contrived ending in its work and just ratcheting up the absurdity.  With theater, it seems, the path to contrivance is inevitable, and was the case in my own play when it was staged in 2008.  (After all, the play has to end somewhere, right?)  Satan is a play that makes one laugh as it slings mild criticism at certain aspects of how we relate to each other in our society as well as the things we place value on, but it doesn’t go beyond that–nor do I think it was meant to.

As usual, Clyde and convergence re-imagined the space of The Liminis in a wonderful way, transforming the space into a gay dance club.  Added to this is the comic story recounted by Clyde about the opening of The Liminis (nearly 10 years ago).  The space had been a bar named Club Juana Diaz, and when it re-opened as a theater a Tremont resident, who noted the “change in clientele walking toward the newly-opened Liminis, asked one of the passersby, ‘So, is the place now a gay bar or what?’”  The space had a functioning bar for the performance, a cage area for intimate dancing, a dance floor, and, of course, the light design (Cory Molner) accounted for that most excellent of dance club features.

There are some strategies that I noticed with interest including the constant narrative voice over used by Andrew’s character. So, as he is in action he narrates his inner thought processes to the audience. I don’t know if that technique has any resonance in Karamazov, but would assume it does.  I think the notion of narrative/monolog while the character is in motion doing something else is an interesting strategy to keep the forward movement of action in what would normally be a static section (given more traditional approaches to monologic moments). Narrative is one area in which I am particularly interested right now as my thesis play will use characters who often engage in direct address (I like the notion of polyvocality as a method of decentralizing “authority” in the text of the play as much as possible). So, aspects of how to handle narrative sections are of interest to me. In most cases I like the fact that direct address breaks the wall and calls attention to itself a la Brecht, and Jenkins, and Overmyer, etc., and the interactional effect that this has on the relationship with the audience.

Another strategy I’ll comment on is that Aguirre-Sacasa’s script must leave blank space to allow for the staging company to “insert here” whatever local setting is desired.  Over lunch at the Dramatists Guild daylong event several of the playwrights were discussing this strategy for “localizing” a script and whether it had the intended effect.  For instance, there is a moment when Andrew flees Jack and ends up walking home through a bad neighborhood wearing only a towel.  In this instance, the proper name “Kinsman” was inserted to provide that local flavor–essentially pointing to a “bad” area in Cleveland.  There were other instances of this as well.  Is this an effective strategy?  Some playwrights found it to be contrived, obvious, and pandering.  One playwright felt that it threw him out of the play, drawing an awareness to external reality of the viewing location.  I’m sure there were audience members who felt that it was “neat” and had a comic effect.  One playwright was reminded of the openings of stand-up routines or rock concerts where the refrain is: “Hello, Cleveland” or whatever city.  I personally feel that if you can make it as generic as possible and yet retain the essence of the thing, that is a better way to go, rather than localizing it in such a way.  In life there are enough archetypal elements that they can be applied regardless of the locale: all cities have “bad” areas, hospitals, laundromats, etc.  Making them overtly local is just being cute.

Went and saw Vogel’s play at None Too Fragile on Saturday night. The location is pretty nice on Front Street, right down in Cuyahoga Falls. The space itself is small and I got a seat right up front. Being a big fan of the intimacy that comes from The Liminis, I was ready for the small space and liked sitting right up in the front. The front row seats can’t be matched for getting excellent vibes from and views of the actors.

I have mixed feelings about the use of video for the “chorus” in the play and some of the other bit parts; but I was intrigued by it, too. As the play went on the video bits grew on me some, but the hiss of the audio sometimes took me out of the “world” of the play and made me realize I was watching something and not in it. I thought Alanna Romansky (Li’l Bit’s) interaction with the video was really good though and was impressed at how they worked through the timing of the thing. I also appreciated the inter-cut highway safety videos that Derry found to put in alongside Vogel’s captions.

I think what disappointed me about the video was the second to last scene–THE scene where the first sexual abuse incident transpires. Much of what I read about this play and the techniques that Vogel uses focus on what Li’l Bit reveals in this penultimate scene: “That day was the last day I lived in my body.” This last scene is designed to emphasize the point as there are three actors representing Li’l Bit: a girl on Peck’s lap, the 30 year-old Li’l Bit, and a disembodied voice speaking her lines. All this emphasizes the point that Sarah Stephenson makes in the article I wrote a while back, “evidence regarding how sexual abuse victims conceive of themselves, foremost being the sense of separation from their physical body.” In fact, throughout the play there is an intense and obsessive focus on the body and the rejection of it–including some scenes that were cut by Derry regarding Li’l Bit at a high school dance. Still, the initial molestation scene was powerful and had me shifting uncomfortably in my seat–so, minus the stage craft of actors and voices, the scene still has great power and an ability to cause discomfort.

The actors in the video were very good. Maryann Elder who played Li’l Bit’s mother was as close to a scene stealer as one can get, I imagine, with video; as was Jim Viront, who played Li’l Bit’s grandfather. And I have to say that one impression I got of the use of video was a distinct sense of memory that I don’t think I would have gotten from the physical presence of the actors. Mary Jane Nottage (grandmother) was very good, too.

Romansky did a very good job as Li’l Bit and I was impressed by her transitions between the various ages that the character goes through. I was equally impressed with the acting of Jeffrey Glover (Peck) who layered on the southern draw of rural Maryland like honey and played Peck with the necessary compassion, strength, and desperation (loss?) that the character deserves.

I am still very disappointed in Paula Vogel for the BB molestation scene which all but ruins the character of Peck and nearly makes him cardboard. If any scene should be cut, that is the one.

I’m not keen on the drive from Cleveland, but now that the kids are getting older I can make more of an effort to get off my ass and go see some plays; I like Derry and am glad to see that he and Romansky are creating theater. I hope Cuyahoga Falls appreciates their luck at having theater like this in their front yard. Derry takes chances and that is what is needed in the all-too-often aridity of play choices (such as adaptations of nineteenth century novelists) that are the fodder for stages. Theaters today are often too much hell bent on the bottom line, which can twist your soul as Mike Daisey points out.

As Derry showed with Bang and Clatter, he’s not afraid to go broke and he’s got the balls to shake it off, stand up, and come back for more. I don’t know if I could do the same and I have to tip my hat to him for that. And he’s still giving away beer and wine, which is a bonus.

None to Fragile is doing Mamet next, and I’ll be in the audience.