In the pre-show seating shuffle of audience members scrambling for seats in the 360-configuration of a sold-out St. Mark's Church, each of the five performers in Deborah Hay's "O,O" entered one by one and stood, shifting slightly, eyeing the audience and raising their hands slowly in tentative reaches toward each other, the audience, the floor, the ceiling. Three were in black, two in white, and all wearing heavy shoes, an unusual choice for dance. Once all five were gathered on stage, continuing this slow, focused pace, the audience gradually grew silent, despite the fact that the box office was still open and ushers were still seating patrons. The room changed and everyone acknowledged it, as if the performance space asserted its architectural truth as a church.
Despite the incredibly long title, The National Theater of the United States' Abacus Black Strikes Now!: The Rampant Justice of Abacus Black, started off great. In extremely dim light, a man in ruffled, romantic Goth-antique clothing burst on stage lit only by a small, bright light which he carried and shone up under his chin hinting of a campfire ghost.
As he spoke, the audience was transported back to childhood experiences of theater. It was thrilling, riveting, and magical.
Alex van Warmerdam: The Northern Quarter
Vortex Theater Company
The American premiere of the Dutch play The Northern Quarter by Alex van Warmerdam has its moments. Director Erwin Maas describes this production as a â€œfunny, yet intensely painfulâ€ journey, â€œmagical and absurd, yet frighteningly real.â€ Unfortunately, for the most part, it seems neither frightening nor real.
The play focuses on Faas, a young man who lives at home with his parents, apparently in the â€œnorthern quarterâ€ of some city or bordering area (since the city itself is a fearful place his parents refuse to let him visit). Faas spends the whole 90 minutes of stage time trying to escape his stifling parents in order to actually
In the program notes for Richard Maxwell's The End of Reality at the Kitchen, Maxwell states that he "found the last line of this play on a park bench in Hampstead, London," and only later discovered the line to be from Khalil Gibran's The Prophet. The line, "the earth shall take my limbs and then I shall truly dance," seems a fitting expression of Maxwell's signature style. His sparse staging and stiff, simple physicality, and vocal delivery clear the theatrical space of clutter and highlight Maxwell's themes with precision and surprising emotional punch.
Set in the security station of an office building, the play unfolds in the glow of an enormous surveillance screen, which constantly flips between various images of different areas of the building.
It is a cold, wintry twilight when Harold Pinterâ€™s The Room opens; soon it will be dark. That is the typical mood and setting of early Pinter. The Room was his very first play, produced originally in 1957. On the same bill at the Atlantic Theatre Company is Celebration, his latest play to be produced (2000), with a totally different setting and ambiance: a bright, chic London restaurant with well-dressed revelers. Does this conjunction of early and late work tell us something meaningful about Pinterâ€™s vision and the journey he has taken in his brilliant fifty-year theatre career?
Back in the late fifties, when he was spellbinding experimental theatregoers, the word most commonly used to describe his work was â€œmenace.â€ Pinter had a way of making the stage vibrate with mystery and menace in such early works as The Room, The Dumb Waiter, The Birthday Party, and The Caretaker.
Edward Albee is probably the most famous living playwright in the United States today. I say "probably" because Sam Shepard and David Mamet may actually come more quickly to mind, or even Neil Simon (but I don't count him for reasons I won't bother to explain). What makes Albee interesting to contemplate is just how high he was in everyone's esteem for the first decade of his career, and then how low for a couple of decades, and how more recently, post-Three Tall Women (1991), he has returned as a kind of off-stage gray eminence, highly respected but hardly loved.
Sometimes artistic women commit suicide. They may flirt with the idea for years. Sylvia Plath did it at the age of thirty. Sarah Kane did it at twenty-eight. It changes the way we look at their work. Born in Essex, England in 1971, and raised by evangelical Christian parents, Kane later characterized her religious upbringing as â€œthe full spirit-filled, born-again lunacy.â€
The French production of Kaneâ€™s final play, 4.48 Psychose , at the BAM Next Wave Festival in Brooklyn (Oct. 19-30), focuses on the isolation of the protagonist, her fierce commitment to knowing what it feels like to be deeply depressed, and her refusalâ€”