REVIEW: Church and Pullman, WA (Red Tape Theatre)

     
     

Exhilaration, fear and loathing in religion

     
     

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Red Tape Theatre presents
  
Church  /  Pullman, WA
  
Written by Young Jean Lee
Directed by
James Palmer
at
Red Tape Theatre, 621 W. Belmont (map)
through March 5  |  tickets: $25  |  more info

Reviewed by Paige Listerud

Young Jean Lee’s plays, Church and Pullman, WA, are really two peas in a pod. Produced by Red Tape Theatre under the direction of James Palmer, Lee’s two one-acts bookend human experience on matters of self-help, personal worth, religion, motivational speaking and hallucinatory mysticism. It’s not just that having faith is, by its nature, not a rational act–Lee’s works steep the audience in the utter irrationality of belief systems of all sorts and in doing so, exposes the raw human struggle to go on in hope and positive meaning for living.

“I know how to live,” exclaims a young woman (Amanda Reader) at the top of Pullman, WA, glowing bright, professional and squeaky clean. She begins as clearly and simplistically as anyone leading a motivational workshop or a weekend seminar spawned by the Human Potential Movement. “The first thing you have to remember is that You Are You,” she scrawls upon the blackboard behind her. Yet, it quickly becomes clear that she is as plagued by doubts as any fallible human, and the motivational tactics she espouses are a thin shield against uncertainty.

As she falters, an assistant (Meghan Reardon) interrupts to guide the audience through a meditation comforting in its childlike, beneficent imagery—“You are sitting on a giant puffball”–which, of course, soon becomes so festooned with unicorns and candy-coated rainbows, it’s absurd. A second assistant (Austin Oie) chimes in with time-honored, Biblically resonant reassurance, “I am an angel of the Lord.” But he also fails to deliver unimpeachable strength of conviction. Between the three motivational speakers, Pullman, WA veers into macabre madness.

Lee’s writing has got a tiger by the tale. How much should we trust belief systems that tell us everything is going to be alright so long as we believe, whether it’s about believing in ourselves, believing in a higher power or believing in some cognitive system built to reassure and propel us forward? That way leads to madness, madness reflected in the imagery of Lee’s script, which owes a debt to Hieronymus Bosch.

The trouble, if there is any, lies in Church being pretty much the same thing, only expanded. Red Tape may want to review the necessity of performing two almost identical plays back to back as they’ve chosen to do. Nevertheless, set up as a storefront church service, Palmer’s more than able cast easily holds their own through all Church’s tangential swerves and comic detours. They are brilliant at exposing faith as the ephemeral and potentially dangerous thing it is. Rev. Jose (Robert L. Oakes), in particular, leads the audiences on a humorous, hallucinatory sojourn with his sermonizing which, by the way, includes mummies, Jesus among leprous child molesters, and almost everything being poison. His fellow Reverends, Angela (Angela Alise Johnson) and Carrie (Carrie Drapac), nail the links between power, faith and fear with the song:

Shakin’ in your bones is required
To believe in colossal empires . . .

A sentiment impacted all the more by the final chorus, both uplifting and terrifying, in their anthem of religious compliance and resignation. So busy praising Jesus, so busy working for the kingdom, so busy serving their master, they ain’t got time to die. One recognizes religion as a strategy for survival—an exhilarating uplift to meet life’s random and often overwhelming challenges. One can also see its desperate acquiescence to a power greater than oneself, which eventually includes temporal power. As far as Lee’s work is concerned, the two are hopelessly intermeshed. Now that’s something that will put the fear of God in you.

  
  
Rating: ★★★
  
  

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Review: Profile Theatre’s “The Mercy Seat”

 Commendable performances make best of flawed script

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Profiles Theatre presents:

The Mercy Seat

by Neil LaBute
directed by Joe Jahraus
thru November 15th (buy tickets)

reviewed Catey Sullivan

With The Mercy Seat, Profiles Theatre continues its long collaboration with Neil LaBute as well as its far shorter but oh-so rewarding work with Cheryl Graeff. The former isn’t in top shape with this elliptical and implausible drama. The latter creates a complex, indelible and exhaustingly authentic character within a deeply flawed play.

The two-hander between Graeff and Darrell W. Cox begins on Sept. 12, 2001. Abby (Graeff), enters her New York apartment breathing through a scarf and emitting powdery ash as she unpacks a sack of groceries. On the couch, gazing into space with a thousand-mile shell-shocked stare is Ben (Cox), seemingly oblivious to the insistent ring of his cell phone and unable to process the apocalyptic scene outside.

Mercy V 4 cropped LaBute’s dialogue gives you the sense of eavesdropping. Coming in mid-conversation, the 100-minute drama is more than half over before it becomes quasi-clear precisely what’s going on here. Who is supposed to be on the receiving end of the all-important call that Abby keeps demanding Ben make? Who keeps calling his cell phone? Why is it so important that he stay away from the windows? What is this “meal ticket” he keeps referring to in tandem with the catastrophe unfolding outside?

While LaBute’s intentionally cryptic sentences become tedious at times, the performances are good enough to make them tolerable and imbue them with authenticity, even as the plot holes start to loom ever larger.. Among the most gaping incongruity is the fact that Ben’s cell phone works impeccably on a day when virtually every cell phone in New York City went dead. Between unanswered calls, Ben and Abby engage in a dark-night-of-the-soul debate about heated moral issues. Thankfully, the dialogue sounds not like a debate but a genuine conversation pocked with stops, starts and things blurted out before they are fully thought through. Eventually, we learn that Ben was at Abby’s apartment on the receiving end of oral sex when the planes hit the Towers. Had he gone to work on time instead of stopping by for a morning blow job, he probably would have been killed.

The two at first seem incredibly self-absorbed. While the world around them is in ruins, they argue about oral sex techniques. They attack each other so relentlessly and with such personal venom, it’s difficult to understand why they’re together at all. That she’s a high powered executive; he’s a schlub whose defining characteristic is passivity makes mystery of their mutual attraction all the more baffling. As LaBute eventually clears that matter up (with some graphic sex talk), the other unknowns of the piece come into view as well.

As he so predictably does, LaBute ends with a twist, this one involving Cox’s miraculously functional cell phone.

What works in this piece is Graeff’s performance as a woman who is both powerful and desperate, self-loathing and strident with pride. Cox has less to work with as a classic LaBute male of few redeeming qualities. Together, the two make you wish Profiles would take a stab at Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.

The Mercy Seat continues through Nov. 15 AT Profiles Theatre, 4147 N. Broadway. Tickets are $30 and $35. For more information, go to www.profilestheatre.org or call 773/549-1815..

Rating: ««½

 

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