Review: At Home At The Zoo (Victory Gardens Biograph)

 

A fascinating evening at the ‘Zoo’

 Tom Amandes and Marc Grape - photo by Liz Lauren

 
Victory Gardens Theater presents
  
At Home At The Zoo
  
Written by Edward Albee  
Directed by Dennis Zacek
Victory Gardens Biograph Theater, 2433 N. Halsted (map)
through October 31  |   tickets: $35 – $50 |  more info

Reviewed by Catey Sullivan

“You are very good in bed,”  a wife tells her husband with imploring sincerity during the Edward Albee’s  Homelife, “I just wish you’d be bad once in a while.”  So goes the one-act piece’s conversation of domestic crisis,  an emotionally complex and elegantly worded discourse between a long-time couple, deeply in love with each other and deeply restless within lives of sheltered security.

By pairing Albee’s new work Homelife with his career-launching The Zoo Story, the Victory Gardens Theater creates a mostly fascinating evening.  Alone, The Zoo Story is a harshly compelling, self-contained  cryptogram of a play – nasty, brutish, violent and short and embedded with disturbing questions about the origin of its violence. Seen with Homelife, The Zoo Story receives a rich, contextual background that makes the piece blaze with heightened immediacy.

To see The Zoo Story is to recoil in shock as an encounter on a Central Park bench moves from civilized pleasantries to bestial bloodsport. The Tom Amandes and Annabel Armour - photo by Liz Laurentransition is both inexorable and unexpected. With a final, stabbing climax, Albee makes his audience confront more than a few scary concepts. Among them: The tragic fruit of incurable isolation and the disquieting notion that for some people, the world will always be an unwelcoming and awful place. Then there’s the whole idea that no matter how well you insulate yourself – no matter how carefully you cocoon yourself with the trappings of a stable home and family and career – you cannot protect yourself from random outbreaks of life-altering chaos. Your well-appointed home, loving wife and pleasant career can’t save you from mayhem.

Directed by Dennis Zacek, both Homelife and The Zoo Story (produced together as “At Home At The Zoo”) make for a provocative production. The primary problem with the evening is that Homelife is more of a prolonged set-up for The Zoo Story than a drama that can stand on its own. Even so, the issues of the upper-middle class white couple Peter (Tom Amandes) and Ann (Annabel Armour) are delivered with sharp-shooter precision straight to the core of the heart.

Armour’s Ann captures the yearning dissatisfaction of someone trapped in a gilded cage, a spirit so completely tamed that only a flickering spark of its original self remains. That spark, however, is enough to ignite a wildfire of discontent.  When Peter protests that the couple long ago made a decision to live their lives as a  “pleasant journey,” and to “stay away from icebergs,” Ann counters that decades within that safety have left her pining for something “you can’t imagine,” something “terrifying, astonishing, chaotic and mad.”  That yearning is exquisitely rendered by Armour. Live your life as a placid and wholly secure voyage, Ann notes, and you never even really die – you just sort of “vanish.” There’s undeniable terror in that view of the end: Is there anything more scary than the prospect of reaching the end of your life only to realize you’ve never fully lived it? In Homelife, Albee convincingly argues that there is not.

Yet for all the incendiary dialogue of  Homelife, “A Home At The Zoo” doesn’t fully start clicking until its second act with The Zoo Story, when Marc Grapey bursts onto the stage as the unbalanced Jerry. He’s a hilarious loose cannon as the sort of crazy New Yorker whose tone of voice falls just short of overt menace  and whose overall presence is both clownish and embedded with an unmistakable threat of implicit danger.

Tom Amandes - Annabel Armour - Liz Lauren photographer2 Tom Amandes and Marc Grape - photo by Liz Lauren 2
Tom Amandes and Marc Grape - photo by Liz Lauren 4 Tom Amandes  - Annabel Armour - Liz Lauren photographer

Albee’s contrast between Peter and Ann – a couple so sheltered they’ve lost all track of their own, authentic cores  – and Jerry, whose raw exposed soul is buffeted on all sides by the world’s unkind wildness – is striking and vividly depicted by this pitch-perfect ensemble.

As Peter, Amandes is the very soul of quiet desperation – until he’s not. When Peter finally unleashes the primal howl that he’s squelched for years, the moment is one of supreme destruction and catharsis.  Armour’s Ann is equally powerful in a more subtle manner, mining deeply rooted dissatisfaction and plumbing the fearsome depths of subconscious with intense bravery and dogged effort. And then there’s Grapey, spinning a world of lucid delirium (not as paradoxical as it sounds) and forcing Peter to let loose the great and terrible beast within.  It’s a powerhouse performance, a whirlwind of tragedy and comedy, of inconsolable sorrow and impish playfulness.

Zacek sees that the cast makes the most of Albee’s profound and lacerating dialogue, shaping the trio into a tight-knit ensemble leading its audience into confrontation with some of the darkest pockets of the human condition.

   
   
Rating: ★★★
   
  
Tom Amandes and Marc Grape - photo by Liz Lauren 3 Tom Amandes and Annabel Armour - photo by Liz Lauren 2