Two strangers on a park bench by the beach collaborate in a vicious dance of temptation. A woman in a fraudster’s family is dating a wealthy new beauty. The funeral mourner, and the deceased man himself, are faced with the horrifying concepts of the future and the afterlife.
These scenarios were explored in three short plays, Stephen Berkov’s “Lunch” (1983), Caryl Churchill’s “Hot Fudge” (1989), and “Here We Go” (2015), and the triptych on how to do it. I am producing a picture. We love, lie, steal, and think about how we behave when the reality of the world does not meet our expectations. Made by PTP / NYC (Potomac Theater Project), One Act was staged together at Atlantic Stage 2 and recently opened under the title “Sex, Grift, Death”.
In the first play, “Lunch,” directed by Richard Romagnori for this New York premiere, a lonely salesman (Bill Army) found a woman (Jackie Sanders) sitting on a park bench. The man approaches and begins an exchange that reveals the key impulses that underlie the courtship ritual — not only verbal, but also physical, sex and combat pantomime.
The Army takes advantage of the sneakyness of his character, so even the overflow of thoughts in his disgusting stream of consciousness mixes with his desperate conspiracy and disgusting asides, making him conspiracy. It has a kind of charm when you wink and fine-tune in the direction of the audience. Sanders’ personality is aloof — calculate and happily play mating games, but only on her terms. She is a player and an umpire, and she engages with him one moment and makes a fictitious call the next. Their verbal attacks feel like a barbaric blow. “Your expression is the buried side of the stone, leading a strange and ferocious life,” she fires at him. He describes her as a “mass of fornicate stew.”
British playwright, director and actor Berkov is a kind of Shakespeare’s infectious disease, written with fascinating eloquence and imagination, as well as the barbarism of scorched earth operations. A crazy scramble of the sensation-activating metaphor, the text of the two characters Berkov contains delicate images such as “various succubus and herds of incubi” in women’s underwear.afternoon
Berkov’s scripts are written in a kind of speedy Morse code with sideways, dashes, and ellipsis, all delivered on stage at a relentless pace. Under Romagnoli’s instructions, play behaves like a speed-violating train — very fast, throwing you away, and unfortunately difficult to get back to the ship given the compelling content and performance. Romagnoli incorporates a physical theater, a range of interpretive movements that characterizes many of Berkov’s works, but women tear shirts or straddle men like ponies on horse ranches. Even more daring choreography and tableau feel like tame. Comparison with language.
Churchill’s work had a similar lack of punch, both of which felt narratively imperfect and imbalanced in direction. The second evening play, “Hot Fudge,” begins with the family drinking in a pub and discussing the best strategies to get the bank out of the money. Sonia (Molly Dorion) and her partner Matt (Gibson Grim) made a complicated deposit and withdrawal plan under a fake name, but Sonia’s father, the mean Charlie (Kris Marshall). His wife (Daniel Sclarstad), who praises the old proven stick-up during his slosh, makes a crude joke.
This group of thieves is fascinating, enough to carry the entire play, and is a perfect example of Churchill’s character, who often lives in an eccentric and unpredictable world. However, there is a bait-and-switch. Introducing these relatives just to be forgotten is not as surprising as the shift to Sonia’s sister Ruby (Tara Giordano), the character with the fewest lines in the first scene. I’m thinking about bait-and-switch. Still, that doesn’t mean that Ruby will be cleaned up by her suitor, Colin (David Barlow), who thinks she’s the owner of a successful travel agency. Instead, she doubles her lies when they go to clubs with his exaggerated rich friends.
The final play, “Here We Go,” which premiered in New York, is also missing a bite. It begins with a funeral, where some of the chattering mourners gossip about trivial matters, and occasionally with sudden asides, explaining when and how they die. Then we hear from the dead man, especially Barlow, who has a compelling performance in the ending, in a breathtaking existential monologue about life and death. The final scene is a solemn yet factual minute of pure realism, performed in complete silence.
Like “Hot Fudge,” this play initially seems to draw us to the moments of mourners and their fascinating prophecies, but soon dispose of them. Cheryl Pharaone, who oversees both Churchill plays, works on them with equal hands, but tone and pace can do a better job of helping us to understand the priorities of each play. increase. As presented, it’s hard to tell which moment and which character should get our attention the most. And Churchill’s overlapping dialogue can be smoothed out in some of the tremendous moments of production. (Under the harsher direction, it can move with a satisfying rhythm of interrupted sentences, explosions and admirations.)
The production of this short drama of less than two hours suggests that it is noteworthy even in the traditional moments. PTP / NYC (celebrating the 35th repertoire season) is Mark Evancho’s minimal staging (one large projector screen, “lunch” bench and lamppost, three small vertically hung projector screens, some With the help of stools and chairs), the “Hot Fudge” and “Here We Go”, which are understated here, are all on a stage about the same size as the living room of a small apartment in New York City.
Still, the text can be energized and even challenged in a stronger direction. The night of sensual play, manipulation, trickery and tragedy of two fiery playwrights like Berkov and Churchill should never leave a room as cool as this.
Sex, glift, and death
Until July 31st at Atlantic Stage 2 in Manhattan. ptpnyc.org.. Execution time: 1 hour 55 minutes.
