Review: My Filthy Hunt (The Right Brain Project)

     
     

‘My Filthy Hunt’ sells itself on grit, but offers better

     
     

Elizabeth Orr, Bries Vannon, The Right Brain Project, My Filthy Hunt

   
Right Brain Project, i/a/w Horizon Arts and Richard Jordan Productions presents
   
My Filthy Hunt
      
Written by Philip Stokes
Directed by
Nathan Robbel
at
The RBP Rorschach, 4001 N. Ravenswood (map)
thru March 19  | 
tickets: $15  |  more info

Reviewed by Dan Jakes

In the first minute of Philip Stokes’ curiously-titled My Filthy Hunt, four brooding actors stare down the audience, strip to their skivvies, then bounce around while manically accompanying some blaring rock.

From this unpromising start comes a thoughtful, engaging, sensitive play about devastation and recovery.

Though it doesn’t “spit in the face of theatrical convention” as the show’s press release–and indirectly, the grim, tawdry posters– suggest, it’s probably Erin Elizabeth Orr, Greg Wenz, Right Brain Project, My Filthy Huntbest that it doesn’t. “In-yer-face theatre” is challenging in the era of anything-goes art, and dependence on shock to elicit attention usually comes at the sacrifice of actual substance. These artists have something to say, and though the source-material may allow it to in lesser directorial hands, the message doesn’t get muddied with an initiative to offend.

Even when delivered by players in their underpants.

Four strong, detached monologues follow the opening, each centering on sexual or emotional insecurities. The cast (comprised of Erin Elizabeth Orr, Emma Peterson, Bries Vannon, and Greg Wenz) is animated and earnest, finding the anguish and humor in each speech.

When those concepts overlap, such as when a young man relays his attempt to commit suicide with a bottle of fish oil supplements, the ensemble is at its best. Likewise, a woman’s lament about the more sinister side of growing up attractive is touching and thought-provoking.

The latter-half of this one-act is where director Nathan Robbel’s focus on specificity really shines. The quartet responds to a tragedy with a tightly-woven, almost Pinter-like scene of short-fused call-and-response dialogue. It’s almost musical. The details of the event are left mostly in the background, but they’re unimportant. Elements of loss are universal, and these actors convey them with empathy and authenticity. One shouts out for donuts, and we see the nonsense that can overtake us in moments where reality becomes incomprehensible.

Stokes’ text is composed with a careful hand, exploring dark issues with a sense of maturity and restraint. His otherwise talky play is made visually fascinating by Robbel’s movement work–always enough to heighten the stories without distracting from them.

Robbel makes playful, decisively physical use of The Right Brain Project’s tiny (it’s a stretch to call the space a black box) Ravenswood theater. Though sight-lines are at times an issue, the production team embraces the opportunity for smart minimalism. There are no props save for some cell phones and one well-used coat rack, and many of the emotional and thematic shifts are indicated through Michael C. Smith’s resourceful lighting design.

Good theatre doesn’t require much to be compelling. My Filthy Hunt is an argument for how.

  
  
Rating: ★★★
   
  

Bries Vannon, Elizabeth Orr, Right Brain Project, My Filthy Hunt

My Filthy Hunt continues through March 19th (8:00pm Thursdays – Saturdays, 7:00pm Sundays), with an additional industry performance scheduled Monday, March 7th. Admission is a suggested donation of $15. Reservations are highly recommended, and can be made by calling the RBP box office at 773.750.2033, or by emailing requests to tickets@therbp.org. For more information, please visit www.therbp.org.   All photos by Nathan Robbel.

     
     

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REVIEW: Factory Theatre’s “Hunky Dory”

A little less loud. a bit more funny.

HunkyDory 

The Factory Theatre presents:

Hunky Dory

by Joe Gehr
directed byJosh Graves
thru December 19th (ticket info)

review by Aggie Hewitt

The Factory Theatre is a quirky little theatre that produces comedic farcical productions. Hunky Dory, their late night show, introduces us to a Texas family that is part “Deliverence”, part “Rosanne”. But this family is not just poor, trashy and evil – they own a coach house that is absolutely irresistible to retired Sarah Lawerence professors and Chicago doctors looking for a quiet place to write their memoirs. Why? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that this family is going to kill those upper-crust Northerners and collect their social security checks.

Performers at the Factory Theatre like to yell. They seem to have picked up the idea that this is how humor is communicated. In the world outside the theatre, a lot of people have this misconception as well, and I have never understood it. What is there about loud noises that is so funny to these people? Are they just all fighting for one’s attention? If that’s the case I have news for the Factory Theatre bombasts: all of the chairs in the house face the stage. If you are on stage, someone will pay attention to you. Please stop screaming.

Apart from that, the whole production just seems lazy; as if no thought at all were put into any aspect of it. The story, staging and writing in this show are unfortunately equally bland – monotone and without heart. Chicago performers, writers and directors looking to work in comedy have to understand that big does not equal funny. (Of course, big can be funny if it is an aspect of the entire joke, but it’s not a secret formula for it). 

My advice? Steer clear from this production, but please do not write off the Factory Theatre. They’re a smart group that perhaps lost some guidance on this particular show. I look forward to smaller and brighter things to come in future productions.

Rating: ½

 

Cast

Elmer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Blake Dalzin
Char . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sarah Rose Graber*
Momma . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Christine Jennings*
Aunt Sue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jennifer Pompa*
Guj . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Christopher Marcum
Grandpa Freddy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Steve Welsh
Mr. Thompson/Snyder/Russell . . . . . . . .Justin Cagney
Mrs. Thompson/Snyder/Russell . . . . Erin Elizabeth Orr

Crew:

Director……………….…….…Josh Graves*
Writer……………………………Joe Gehr*
Executive Producer……………Carrie J. Sullivan*
Producer………………..……………Allison Cain*

Sound Design…………………………….Nick Booth*
Stage Manager………………….Elizabeth Boros-Kazai

* connotates Ensemble Member

for cast bios, click on “Read More”

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Review: Right Brain Project’s “The Modern Prometheus”

More Entertainment Than Intellectual Challenge

 

The Right Brain Project presents:

The Modern Prometheus

adapted by Brad Lawrence
directed by David Marcotte and Nathan Robbel
thru November 21st (buy tickets)

reviewed by Paige Listerud

IT 3_5x2 - Front - Portrait The Right Brain Project enjoyed success with Brad Lawrence’s play Chalk in 2007, a gumshoe noir retelling of the Oedipus myth. Their collaboration seems a constructive fit with this world premiere of The Modern Prometheus, Lawrence’s adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein set in the middle of modern debates between science and religion. It is definitely a more thoughtful piece than most Frankenstein versions—one that RBP gears toward maximum entertainment–but it falls short of being the intellectual challenge touted by its press.

There’s no denying the thrill and accessibility of this production. Right Brain Project has not sacrificed the guilty pleasures of the Frankenstein myth, but tried to integrate them with the play’s more serious content. But before getting into special effects, first and foremost, the production is well grounded in even casting and strong performances. Directed by David Marcotte and Nathan Robbel, the progressive pacing and cast invigorate what could have been a well-worn story stuffed with stock roles.

Dennis Newport, in particular, shows depth and range in his humanistic portrayal of Pastor Friedmann. Erin Elizabeth Orr conveys the full-bodied charm and intelligence of a Victorian heroine as Victor Frankenstein’s fiancé, Elizabeth. Tom McGrath makes a delightfully smooth and insouciant villain as the devious lab assistant, Henry. Colby Sellers’ Frankenstein Monster achieves that badly needed balance between terror and pathos to make his creature compelling; while Ned Record (Schultz) and Katherine Jordan (Selma) make a vivid and memorable father-daughter pair.

prometheusStrange that the performance that leaves something of a vacuum is the man of the hour himself, Victor Frankenstein (Nathan Robbel). Brad Lawrence’s Frankenstein is more driven young scientist than mad doctor. Still, Robbel’s interpretation seems a little too relaxed to render a man capable of groundbreaking experiments, let alone playing God.

Likewise, Lawrence’s writing overplays the challenge Frankenstein’s discoveries present to Christian faith, even in this 19th century period. The text shows very little recognition that faith itself is a slippery thing.

In the play, little Selma dies, to be brought back to life dramatically by Victor. Victor Frankenstein’s discoveries have temporarily subverted the natural order. Yet, the scene wherein Pastor Friedmann presents Selma’s testimony that she saw nothing in death, neither heaven nor hell, simply does not hold water. Any tent revivalist preacher could make hash of that “evidence” of God’s non-existence in two minutes.

If fundamentalist Christians in our era build Creationist museums, which squeeze billion of years of geological time into 6000 years of creation, then they can discount any evidence that does not fit the narrative of the faithful. Sadly, Lawrence’s text overshoots this nuance to make the struggle between science and faith a direct and full-throttle wrestling match.

Lawrence shows greater sophistication placing Frankenstein’s discoveries in the context of the Franco-Prussian War. What chaos would erupt if news broke out that brought people all over Europe to Ingolstadt, clamoring for their war dead to be brought back to life? Further recognition that, most likely, the rich would be harvesting the poor to resuscitate their dead would lend even greater horror to Frankenstein’s macabre achievement. Lawrence’s work also shows tremendous promise in the acknowledgement–from the mouth of the pastor, no less–that war is a “terrible invention.” It convincingly depicts the ambiguous, compromised relationship that Frankenstein has with his own creation. A little more consideration of whether any invention actually improves humanity’s lot and this play could be all that it intellectually aspires to be.

Dramatically, the end of the second act requires clean up. One moment especially strains all credulity: the pastor hands over Selma’s prostrate body to the Creature he had denounced as a “vessel of heresy” two minutes before. It’s moments like these that I deeply appreciate the actors’ ability to go full-bore, but they must be corrected all the same.

As is, The Modern Prometheus still provides good, solid entertainment. Special nods go to Anthony Ingram (set design), Mark Hurni (light design), Sarah Elizabeth Miller (costume/makeup/props design), Amy Sokol (music director), and Christopher M. Walsh (fight choreographer) for providing the well balanced and vital special effects needed to vivify a timeless tale.

Rating: «««

Review: “Put My Finger In Your Mouth”

Slouching Toward the Theater of the Ridiculous

Put your Finger in my Mouth

The Right Brain Project presents

Put My Finger In Your Mouth
by Bob Fisher
Directed by Nathan Robbel
Runs thru August 29th (773.750.2033 for tickets)

Reviewed by Paige Listerud

Is everything old new again? If Right Brain Project succeeds at anything with its production of Put My Finger In Your Mouth, a new play by Bob Fisher, it’s in evoking a nostalgic, psychedelic, Rocky Horror-like vibe.

Like so many before it, this production’s roots lay the work of New York transgender playwright Jackie Curtis, Andy Warhol film star and creator of The Theater of the Ridiculous. Always on the outside, always fringe, Curtis’s influence prevails to this day through shows like Annoyance Theatre’s Co-ed Prison Sluts or, my old favorites, Cannibal Cheerleaders On Crack or The Vampire Lesbians of Sodom.

finger in my mouth Under Nathan Robbel’s direction, with a sound design that culls tunes from the 60s, 80s, and 00s, Put My Finger In Your Mouth is a much softer, gentler show intent on generating a dream world that its characters inhabit and pull the audience into, rather than shock or outrage it. But the audience can only receive minor moments of dreamlike satisfaction from themes that are worn, trite and underdeveloped.

The play is a club-kid fable about two sisters, Birdy (Erin Elizabeth Orr) and Turtle (Stacie Hauenstein) whose conflicts revolve around the competing claims of pleasure and security. Birdy wants to risk all for discovery and new experiences, while Turtle clings to a safe, co-dependent existence at home. The risks become greater for Birdy upon entry into the bizarre club world of the androgynous Snailman (Emily Mark), whose fingers secrete a hallucinogenic substance that enslaves all who taste it.

Orr and Hauenstein generate sympathy as the two sisters, but a script that repeats the risk vs. security theme ad nauseum hampers their performances. Sadly, Turtle’s hidden past is telegraphed so far in advance, it has no impact at all once finally revealed. The sultry androgyny of the Snailman and the hold s/he has on her willing minions, create the appropriate otherworldly space for Birdy to be ensnared in, but there is something to be aware of in the play’s limitations regarding gender identity difference.

How Victorian the play is in the portrayal of its leading transgender or intersex character as Other, dangerous, and suspect. Snailman still ends up being the coolest thing aroundit’s just disappointing that, once again, the clichéd dangers of gender transgression get a tired, unimaginative, and unthinking rehash here. Right Brain Project clearly wants to go beyond the predictable. More careful consideration or development of material before production would serve it well.

For all that, the cast certainly creates a “scene” with its performance. From time to time, glimmers of poetry strike up from the script. The Battle of the Furries that takes place in the nightclub finally achieves the psychedelic effect the play has been promising all the while. If one could exhort the playwright and the company to anything, it would be this: be bolder. Be even more right brain. Don’t hang back in the safe zone.

Rating: «½

 

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