Blog Exclusive Review: Les Enfants Terribles: Prom Night

Sometimes Infantile, Not Terrible

(left to right) Scott Ray Merchant, Casey Kells, Chris Mueller, Alex Kyger, Eric Swanson, Brian Rad. Photo by Tom Hartmon.

When my roommate, brilliant actor/playwright/novelist Jessica Cluess, and I see a particularly strange piece of theatre or film, she generally turns to me with a shrug and says "Well, that happened." In a way it's a compliment: the art has, after all, provoked a reaction that's hard to put into words. There are many worse things a play or movie can do than weird you out. But if that's all it does, it's hard to argue that it's really effective--weirdness alone doesn't stick for long.

Well, Les Enfants Terribles: Prom Night certainly happened. What exactly was it that happened? Well, we're in a gym, decorated in patented tacky prom style (Shaun Renfro did the witty set). Just as a group of students (Jonathan Helvey, RyanLempka, and Amanda Beth Miller) are about to draw the name of the Prom King, Les Enfants burst in. Les Enfants, played by Casey Kells, Alex Kyger, Scott Ray Merchant, Christopher Paul Mueller, Brian Rad, and Eric Ryan Swanson, are a group of grotesque figures. They are wearing brownish, stained unitards, with foam-rubber growths of various kinds underneath--one has large, clunky feet, another gigantic breasts, the third a phallus that goes straight up to his sternum and what appear to be giant rabbit ears on his head. They chase out the people and proceed to enact a grotesque parody of the processes of courtship and prom royalty election, interspersed with bizarre a cappella performances of songs ranging from "All You Need Is Love" to "Tubthumping", violent beatings, and declarations of "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." In less than an hour, it's done.

It's hard to make a recommendation on this show, because it depends so thoroughly on the taste of the audience members. For those who like aggressive, grotesque, bizarre humor, it's sidesplitting (and there were some in the audience). Others are likely to find it intensely unpleasant. I fell somewhere in between--moments made me laugh, others made me uncomfortable, and there were sections where I just got bored or felt like the show was repeating itself. The cast is clearly talented: they create clear and sharp characterizations and throw themselves into the show with complete commitment and unwavering intensity. (All are recent graduates of Roosevelt University.) It just doesn't add up to much, in the end. It's too weird to be silly, escapist comedy, but if there was any satirical point or commentary on humanity, it didn't come through to me. The show may just be going for "bizarre provocation with uncomfortable laughs", in which case it succeeds on those limited grounds--it's certainly bizarre and provocative, and often funny. It hasn't yet cohered into a compelling show, but it will be interesting to see how the group matures over time.

One important note: if you do go, dress as lightly as possible. The night we went, it was absolutely stifling in there, despite the best efforts of a few fans. Hopefully Red Tape will come up with another plan to keep the place cool, but for now, wear shorts and sandals if possible, and bring water.

New Review Posted: The Love of the Nightingale

Centerstage has posted my new review of The Love of the Nightingale, performed by Red Tape Theatre at St. Peter's Church. There's a lot to recommend it, even if the script's quality is variable. Still, James Palmer directs his cast to some really exceptional moments, and the design is working at an extremely high level for storefront theatre. Comparing this to Mouse in a Jar, the previous show of theirs I saw in that space, is quite impressive--the spaces are completely different. (This is yet another of William Anderson's fantastic sets. I don't know how long he'll be working in storefronts.) Now if only they were working with a script that didn't descend into obviousness with such frequency (or if they cut the bits that did), this would be an even more impressive experience. Here's the text:

Young authors are always instructed to show, rather than tell. Timberlake Wertenbaker's "The Love of the Nightingale," as directed by James Palmer, is a perfect example of why: when it is showing, through theatrical metaphor, stage pictures, music, movement and action, it's often breathtaking. But when the invention pauses for characters to tell us exactly what the story means and underline every point, the audience interest flags severely. It's not enough to wipe out the play's many impressive points, but it keeps the show from living up to its own potential.

The story is adapted from Greek myth: Thracian king Tereus (Vic May), after saving Athens in battle, chooses as his bride Procne (Kathleen Romond), the elder daughter of King Pandion (John Rushing). Years later, bringing Procne's sister Philomele (Meghan Reardon) to Thrace for a visit, he is overcome by desire and rapes her. In an effort to keep her quiet, he cuts out her tongue, which leads to an even more disturbing ending.

Wertenbaker's adaptation never sits still, moving from realism to dreamlike scenes, lyrical monologues to dance. The refusal to stick to one style is exhilarating, but is undercut by the sections of obvious speechifying. When the script works, Palmer's production is stunning, with images and scenes of immense power and thrilling theatricality. (The unfortunate exception to this is an ecstatic celebration of Bacchus that plays like a theme night at a rave club.) Full credit should go to the cast, an eye-popping 23, who commit fully to a challenging script and complex staging. But despite the strong acting and superb designs, especially William Anderson's immersive set and Miles Polaski's discomfiting sound, Palmer's production can't do anything when the play insists on explaining exactly what it means. And it's a shame, because when the show is good, it's wonderful.

New Review Posted/Thoughts on Rosencrantz and Guildenstern

So Centerstage has posted my review of Red Tape Theatre's Mouse in a Jar here. It's a flawed piece that, despite some really interesting work, never quite grabbed me, but it features a really exceptional set by William Anderson. (The set will apparently be the focus of a panel discussion on the Theatre Thursdays night on the 22nd.) After this and his nifty work on Profiles' Graceland (which is STILL running at National Pastime just down the street from Profiles), he's clearly on his way to big things. I'm excited to see his next design! The text of the review is at the end of this post.

Also: on Thursday night, I went to the press opening of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead at Writers' Theatre. (For those not familiar with it, the play follows two famous nonentities in Hamlet as they try to figure out a world that makes no sense to them. It's deeply indebted to Beckett in the exploration of two lost souls trying to understand a hostile world, but the dazzling wordplay is all Stoppard. This was his first major play, and he would develop the wordplay and intellectual brilliance even further in his extraordinary work that followed.) I was not on the job, but there as a guest of my wonderful friend Meredith, who works in the box office. (Cathy Taylor, the PR person, was relieved when I told her this, as I was not on her list and extra tickets were not easy to find in a 108 seat theatre.)

It's a very strong production, with excellent work from Sean Fortunato (as Rosencrantz) and Timothy Edward Kane (as Guildenstern). They have great chemistry together. One interesting choice that director Michael Halberstam made, which I'm not sure I agree with, had to do with the character of the Player, entertainingly played by Allen Gilmore. Most productions see him as a slightly menacing figure, who knows something R and G don't--and may even have some control over their fates. In this production, he's played more as an old ham who is more experienced with, and more at peace with, the world in which he moves. It's an interesting idea, and certainly well-executed, but it may take something away from the show.

The rest of the cast does strong work, and I really liked the designs. (Collette Pollard's clever set is particularly notable, but all of the design elements work together uncommonly well.) The night I saw it, though, it was just a few degrees short of brilliant. I don't know if it was low on energy, a little tentative, or what, but many moments didn't quite have the vividness and follow-through they needed to be exceptional. Still though, I'd definitely recommend you see it--it's a great play, and a very satisfying, funny, and involving production.

One question I had after seeing it--are there several versions of the script out there? This was a three-act play, but when I appeared in the show in college, there were only two acts in the script--and a few lines I distinctly remember from the production I was in were not in this version. Does anyone know if this was the choice of the production or due to multiple editions of the play?

By the way, this is my 100th post. That's a nice round number, though when you consider I've been doing this for over a year, it works out to an anemic post average of 1.75/week. Ah well, quality over quantity?

Here's the Mouse in a Jar review:

It's rarely good news to leave a production talking about the scenery, but then again William Anderson's set for Red Tape Theatre's "Mouse In a Jar" is really extraordinary. The audience descends a staircase into a basement filled with detritus, and is seated in chairs in two corners of the space. There is no escape from the overwhelming environment, or the inches-away action. If the script and production lived up to the set, "Mouse In a Jar" would be exceptional.


Martyna Majok's script tells the grim story of Ma (Kathleen Powers), an illegal Polish immigrant, and her daughters Daga (Tamara Todres) and Zosia (Irene Kapustina), who live in a New Jersey basement. Every night at nine, Ma's husband, known only as HIM (Don Markus, in a truly creepy mask by Sarah Bendix), comes home to brutally beat and rape her. After attempting to defend her mother, Zosia disappears, and Ma is unwilling or unable to run away from HIM's brutality. Daga eventually takes matters into her own hands in a particularly extreme way, with the help of the frightened Fip (Ben Gettinger), who has a dark history of his own.


Majok uses language in fascinating way, and director Daria Davis has created some stunning images, but despite the physical proximity, the audience is always at an emotional remove. As a result, the play is only intermittently scary or involving. It's hard to pinpoint a culprit, though the fact that the realistic and stylized elements of the play don't mesh convincingly is a serious problem. Additionally, the combination of an echoing space and Polish accents make portions of the dialogue hard to understand.


Majok is a playwright worth following and there's a lot of worthy work onstage — it just hasn't yet gelled into a compelling play. I'm still interested to see what's next from Majok and Red Tape.