Review: “Consumption”

Take a journey through a Victorian house and five love stories in this site-specific play.

If you are into macabre romantic tales, atmospheric venues, and immersive theatre with both high production values and affordable prices, you need to book tickets for Consumption immediately. After the ten-minute walk from the subway to the Victorian house in Brooklyn’s Ditmas Park, you will find wine and stories waiting for you in the parlor at a wake for Carl Von Cosel, a German-born radiology technician...and a necrophile. 

Tracy Weller and Devin Burham in Consumption. Photo by Matthew Dunivan.

A surviving daughter (Tracy Weller), abandoned by the deceased in her childhood, delivers a eulogy to the twenty or so audience members cramped in a cozy sitting room that is flooded with flowers and sympathy cards. Struggling with mixed emotions of embarrassment, disgust, and anger, she talks about her father, who was mostly famous for living with the corpse of Elena Hoyos, his ex-patient, for several years. Even though details like the wax mask and vaginal tube that he crafted for the decaying body are vividly planted in the audience’s minds, somehow there is still space left for romance. Did I mention it is based on real events from the 1930s? 

The “doctor” and his patient dying from tuberculosis are part of Consumption too; their story runs parallel to four other couples' journeys. Tracy Weller, who conceived of the show, and Devin Burnam, who wrote it, play all the characters. They are teenage friends exploring an uncharted territory of love, a married couple from a 1950s sitcom, two detectives, and passers-by on a cruise. All five stories are mysteriously intertwined, bound together at the core by love, which, like a disease, strikes at random. 

The two actors swiftly transition from one story to another by changing costumes and emerging in different rooms throughout the house, not unlike ghosts. Both Weller and Burnam perform with incredible zest and have great chemistry, essential for the piece. Three ushers guide the audience through the space, pop the props into the hands of the performers, and work the lights and sound. This almost ironic yet unobtrusive meta-theatricality suits the odd and whimsical tone of Burnam’s writing. The only strange choice (or perhaps the lack of one) is the candy-colored sweaters of the stagehands, unfit for the atmosphere. 

Consumption is staged throughout the entire first floor of the Beverley Social Club, including two parlors and a staircase leading upstairs, and an enormous ballroom. (Before its current incarnation as an event venue, the hundred-year-old building was used as a Democratic club, a speakeasy, and a synagogue.) This spectacular location is enhanced by the scenic design of Christopher Swader and Justin Swader. With minimal means, like small LED panels or a single vintage spotlight (lighting by Daisy Long), the production achieves truly dramatic effect. A tastefully done sound design helps to transition from a cemetery on a rainy day, to the deck of a cruise ship, to the soundstage where a TV show is being recorded. 

As Consumption progresses, it becomes more surreal and hallucination-like. From the haze of a ballroom decorated for a wedding emerges a prom dress embroidered with red flowers resembling bloodstains, a woman wearing a wax mask, and a half-dozen cake toppers of perfect brides and grooms. As the five stories roll to their end, they start leaking into each other like scenes in a fever dream. It seems like the horrid tale of “love beyond the grave” infects everybody who comes in contact with it, so be careful.    

__________

(Consumption plays at the Beverley Social Club, 1016 Beverley Road, Brooklyn, through December 8, 2018. The running time is 90 minutes with no intermission. Performances are Wednesday through Saturday at 8. Tickets are $25; for tickets and more information visit mason.holdings.)

Consumption is conceived and developed by Tracy Weller and Mason Holdings, and written by Devin Burnam. Directed by Kristjan Thor. Scenic Design by Christopher Swader and Justin Swader. Lighting Design by Daisy Long.

The cast is Devin Burnam and Tracy Weller.

[This review was published on theasy.com on 11.26.18]

‘Gain!’ looks at the culture of heavy lifting and its relationship with masculinity (Review)

Join four guys at a Manhattan gym for a workout and self-reflection

The cultural stereotype is that women are the gender who are the most obsessed with body image. But Gain!, written, directed and co-produced by Henry Sheeran shows that men can be just as hung up on their bodies. This site-specific play takes place in an actual gym in Midtown Manhattan and follows four workout buddies in their 20s: Alex, Paul, Kevin, and Serj.

As soon as the play begins, we are quickly caught up on the agenda. Apparently we had it all wrong before; these weightlifters are not after muscles to attract chicks or being in shape for the sake of health. It’s “the confluence of weight and strength,” the ability to get as big as you physically can, that they pursue with almost religious zeal.

This funny and surprisingly endearing play invites the audience to eavesdrop on “locker talk” and pick up on the bodybuilding lingo. Be ready to sit on exercise equipment or a “big hard ball” (as our usher put it, with a chuckle) for about an hour. Even though the audience members have permission to walk a little during the performance, nobody moves as there is, frankly, no need.

With the exception of the hosting venue, Gain! appears to be a traditional piece of theater, which is a little disappointing from This Is Not a Theater Company, who co-produces Gain! with Myka Cue and Henry Sheeran. I expected more exploratory interaction with the environment from the creators of Pool Play 2.0 and Café Play. But despite the missed opportunities of engaging with the site or the audience in any unconventional way, the play still is enjoyable as a commentary on masculinity and male body shaming.

Hats off to the actors who are able perform while also breaking sweat doing a real workout. As the four of them lift weights, bench press, and admire themselves in the mirrors, they chat with each other and occasionally address the audience with a confession or personal story. Gain! strives to bring to light all the complexity of motivations, joys, and dark sides of the world of heavy lifting through those narratives.

For Kevin, the race to always meet new weight goals became an unhealthy obsession and a necessary part his life. Turned on by his own reflection, he masturbates every night only to wake up feeling guilty the next morning. He then boosts his self esteem by ignoring invitations for drinks on Tinder. Kevin’s narcissism is growing in progression with his mass, gradually elbowing out anything non-related to lifting. But it looks like an attempt to fill in the void of loneliness.             

Serj is fully devoted to the game of gain. He started “juicing,” which is not a “kale delight in the morning,” as Paul naively thinks, but steroids. His gym buddies disapprove of “shooting” but some still begin to consider it themselves, which can be dangerous when you look up to somebody who uses questionable methods. After all, Serj is “the Big Jesus” of the gang, preaching the strictly scientific approach to weight-gaining. He even scolds Alex for not keeping a journal recording of every meal and every workout. Serj has his journal  in his pocket at all times and proudly offers to an audience member to leaf through it.

Alex refers to this state of over-commitment as “the lifting hole” and tries not to get sucked in. Out of the group’s members, he maintains a somewhat healthy diet and talks about lifting in the most poetic way by using unusual metaphors. Prior to weight lifting he had hated his body, but by consistently working out, he achieved an epiphany: “the body is not just a brain container, it’s an orchestra” The way he talks about his legs as “bisons” and his arms as “ballerinas” makes it evident that he has come to terms with himself, but his confidence falters when  is called chicken-neck by his buddies.

Paul, Alex’s pal, is a novice in the art of lifting (although Serj would argue that it’s not an art, it  is a science). The gym culture hasn’t traumatized his personality yet. He seems to be the only one who enjoys social life and sees his strength as a means of service to others, even if this means to fantasize about protecting a lady from danger. The others don’t even go that far.

On paper, the characters seem hardly likable but thanks to the passionate performances of the entire cast, they open up to show us a different side. Is the obsession with physical fitness an expression of masculinity or a sign of vulnerability? Is lifting an act of self-love or self-destruction? The answers constantly shift as the play progresses and every character ultimately has to draw a line somewhere. Their journeys are absorbing to watch.

Sheeran crack opens a door to a different world and explores the characters through both interactions with each other and confessions delivered to the audience. Switching between these two modes allows for showing more dimension to their personalities. For each of the four young men, weightlifting has become a safe haven, where they have comraderie, a sense of self-worth, and a common goal. On the other hand, their frantic devotion makes them practically a cult. How else can they explain the ritual where they each take off their shirts and shame each other for not being big enough?

Gain! shows how toxic the importance of self-image can be and how harmful are gender stereotypes: an example of men taking it too far when it comes to appearing “manly.”

[This review was published on NoProscenium.com on 11.12]

Review: “Inside the Wild Heart”

Group .BR brings back their immersive experience based on the work of acclaimed Brazilian writer Clarice Lispector.

“Getting lost is also a way,” suggests Clarice Lispector, the muse of Inside the Wild Heart. And perhaps getting lost is the best way of experiencing this immersive show that honors a renounced Brazilian Jewish writer. Her surreal work materializes in a couple dozen of art installations, occupying multiple levels of a historic brownstone. Her work also possesses the bodies of eleven performers, and might seduce your soul by the end of the night. 

Debora Balardini in Inside The Wild Heart. Photo by Alexandre Maciel.

A red heart marks the entrance, inviting you to come inside. The eerie net of arteries on the ceiling inside suggests that something other than romance lives here. The authors of the experience Andressa Furletti and Debora Balardini, who are also two of the performers, have extracted eight topics from Lispector’s massive body of work and assigned each to a single performer. Throughout evening, actors change characters while exploring the motifs of faith, freedom, madness, time, solitude, violence, identity, and love. 

The experience is not guided, so you are free to move around the house and leave whenever you want. You might pick a deep comfy chair, soak in the space, and watch the action unfold around you. I spent a while on the first floor, alternating angles in the main space and nibbling on chocolate I found. Various scenes, with dialogue mostly in English, follow one another. The stories are not necessarily connected—it's as if somebody disassembled a book and playfully shuffled the pages. But they are irresistible. Like with chocolate candies, you always want “just one more.”

The actors come and go, playing their scenes amidst the audience. A man looking for work is interviewed by an intimidating woman with a whip. Another man in a full bear suit leans against a grand piano that is covered in a flower pattern. Scene. A woman flirts while showing off a suitcase full of tranquilizers. She fetches orange peels out of her bra, playfully admitting that the real perfume is too expensive. Scene. A woman harasses her maid with a thousand tasks. Scene. In order to enjoy the experience, you must abandon the “proscenium theater audience” mode and dive into the stream-of-consciousness of Lispector’s writing.   

You might choose to follow an actor and observe their personal quest and transformation within one of the themes. I found myself drawn to Debora Balardini’s energized, powerful performance and was ready to commit to watching her read a telephone book or take a nap. Spoiler alert, her track includes much more exciting scenes, including a beautifully choreographed murder that gave me goose bumps. 

Occasionally the intense pacing in the apartment above, a piercing shriek, or the smell of fresh-baked goods steals your attention. Following your curiosity also proves to be a potent way of traveling Inside the Wild Heart. The abundant details of visual design can occupy you for hours. There are a few interactive installations like The Tree Of Secret Desires. The entire patio is designated as a space of reflection, where audience members can share their thoughts. Red roses, pills, cockroaches, and eggs are the most recurring visual motives in this exuberant set design by Furletti and Montserrat Vargas. The textures and colors reign in this space, enhanced by Charlie Jarboe's lighting design.      

Inside the Wild Heart first opened in 2016 in a warehouse in Williamsburg. But it’s difficult now to imagine this production elsewhere other then Aich Studios, which consists of a split-level loft, a chamber apartment, and a grand space with another loft and a balcony. Art installations seamlessly blend in with the native artistic interior ornately decorated with plaster reliefs and antique furniture. Even bathrooms host art, making a trivial act of using them an invitation for self-reflection. The program contains floor plans with all the artwork listed, marrying the theatrical experience to the world of fine art. The house is even open on certain days outside the performances for those primarily interested in the installation.

As with many large-scale, unguided, immersive productions, the fear of missing out is likely to arise. I had a hard time battling it, and having multiple events going on within the sight view was not helpful. The video design (Paul Leopold) is rather distracting in most cases, simply because it has such a different feel from the rest of the house. It persistently calls for your attention while being mostly decorative. That said, I did love some of the video installations, like an egg-shaped screen above the kitchen table showing black-and-white footage of a chicken. 

Inside the Wild Heart is passionate, lavish, and a little bit crazy. Like a raging torrent, it might sweep you off your feet. But there are quiet bays in which you can seclude, like listening to a monologue of a woman bathing in shredded paper, or stroking rose-covered blankets in the bedroom. There is no wrong way to experience Clarice Lispector’s writing, and getting lost in this surreal dream is perhaps one of the best.

__________

Inside the Wild Heart plays at Aich Studios, 218 East 25th Street, through November 18, 2018. Running time is up to 2 hours 30 minutes with no intermission. Performances are Thursdays through Saturdays at 8, Sundays at 7. Tickets are $30 - $65 and are available at group.br.com.

Inside the Wild Heart is conceived by Andressa Furletti and Debora Balardini. Produced by Group .BR, Monica Vilela and Roberta Fernandes. Directed by Linda Wise. Original Score by Sergio Krakowski. Costume Design by Jussara Lee. Video Design by Paul Leopold. Lighting Design by Charlie Jarboe. Set Design and Art Installation by Montserrat Vargas and Andressa Furletti. Stage Manager is Kristin Rion.  

The cast is Andressa Furletti, Debora Balardini, Fabiana Mattedi, Gio Mielle, Goncalo Ruivo, Ibsen Santos, Patricia Faolli, Mirko Faienza, Montserrat Vargas, and Yasmin Santana. Music performed by Mario Forte. 

[This review was published on theasy.com on 11.09.18]

Review: “The Hidden Ones”

An intimate immersive experience about Jewish people in hiding during World War II reflects on the preservation of human dignity and cultural heritage in desperate circumstances.

“Looking for something?” asks the man in a vintage cap at the secret location of The Hidden Ones. I tell him my name and as he mentally scans his guest list for a couple seconds he sizes me up as if deciding whether I am trustworthy. As the six audience members assemble before the show starts, one woman wonders if the secrecy of the place has something to do with the shooting in a Pittsburgh synagogue. Even though just an unfortunate coincidence, this play about Jewish people in hiding is even more relevant today. 

Monica Blaze Leavitt and Chris Jumper in The HIdden Ones. photo by Kristin Pulido.

It is nearly the end of World War II. In the unnamed town of the unnamed country, two families live underground in secrecy and almost complete silence. We are led to a dimly lit space divided by sheets and seated on mattresses along the perimeter. The low-hanging canopy of a camouflage net throws shadow patterns on a table where two families of three assemble for a meal. No word is spoken, and no steps of the shoeless feet are heard.

Soothing period music plays as one of the matriarchs (Marley Madding) splits the bread into tiny pieces and, after spreading just a drop of jam on each, hands them out. Each of her flowing movements conveys great care. The graceful choreography of everyday motions (by Whitney Sprayberry) is mesmerizing. Yet the family meal, with its little silent interactions, is far from idyllic. The food and water are handled with ritualistic precision because of the scarcity of the supply. In the world of The Hidden Ones, every single object is valuable, which is reflected in Braden Hooter's clean and minimalistic design.

After the opening dinner scene, family members return to their corners for the evening activities, each inviting an audience member to join them. The curtains are drawn down, the lights are dimmed and even the music fades out. Most of the individual interactions happen in complete silence. The Boy (Amar Biamonte) is eager to show me his small collection of valuables: a pinup girl picture hidden under his yarmulke, a deck of cards, and a vial of whiskey. We come back to these objects during several other interactions with him.

A life in hiding follows the same path day in and day out. Holding on to routine helps to pass away time and preserve human dignity. The meal scenes alternate with one-on-one scenes. Instead of changes in daylight, the alarming sound of a train horn in the distance marks the time. Each audience member is on the narrative track of the same character during the entire experience but also gets to spend some time with his or her counterpart. In my case it was The Girl (Rakel Aroyo), who writes love letters sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

Director Anthony Logan Cole (who also plays The Man who ushers us in and out of hiding) is economical both with visual design and his direction of the performers. Every movement is telling, every silent motion pumps with love, dignity, fear, anger or despair. No finger is moved simply for aesthetic reason, but rather has a lifetime of human passions and cultural heritage behind it. This helps to fill in the blanks in the other characters' stories and vividly imagine their struggles.   

The lighting design, more of a darkness design, is handled with the same striking efficiency as the rest of the show. The use of silence is haunting and the effect is more dramatic when it is broken. But the choice of using songs in English is puzzling, as they likely wouldn’t be a part of this world. Although they might convey a sense of home to a New York audience, they unfortunately rob The Hidden Ones of its historical context.

The Hidden Ones implies a great deal of closeness to the actors: I don’t think I’ve spent that much time literally rubbing elbows with a character in any of my immersive endeavors. It might be uncomfortable for some audience members, but is justified in a setting where people are deprived of privacy. What is more, a new kind of intimacy is born out of these circumstances, whether the romantic story in the plot, or a connection between an actor and a single audience member.

__________

The Hidden Ones plays at a secret location in midtown Manhattan through December 2, 2018. Exact location is provided via email after ticket purchase. Running time is 65 minutes with no intermission. Performances are Wednesday through Sunday at 7 and 9; no performances November 21-23. Tickets are $100 and are available at TheHiddenNYC.com.

The Hidden Ones is conceived and directed by Anthony Logan Cole. Choreography by Whitney Sprayberry. Scenic Design by Braden Hooter. Stage Manager is Matthew Kennedy. Production Manager is Tyler Oberle. 

The cast is Jay Stuart, Chris Jumper, Marley Madding, Rakel Aroyo, Amar Biamonte, Monica Blaze Leavitt, and Anthony Logan Cole.

[This review was published on theasy.com on 11.5]