Blackbird
Confrontation, bold and unflinching, plays out in this deceptively simple yet richly layered Rogue Machine production of David Harrower’s Blackbird. Sam Anderson and Corryn Cummins deliver fully engaged performances that enthrall the. A richly created environment contributes an effortless sense of reality to this affecting, disturbing and utterly engrossing play.
That is the spoiler-free version of the review. In order to do this production justice, it is necessary to acknowledge the conflict at the center of the play. If you do not know what the play is about, I encourage you to read no further, and instead find out first hand.
What is the conflict? Blackbird starts abruptly, thrusting us into the confrontation some minutes after the first contact between these characters. We quickly gather that Ray (Sam Anderson) has built a new life for himself, putting distance between himself and his past with Una (Corryn Cummins). Una has tracked him down after a chance discovery of his new name and new life. She is intent, focused on this confrontation. He is distressed by her reemergence into his life, indignant that she feels she has the right to haunt him.
When she says the words, even though we may suspect they are coming, we are unprepared for the implications. How many other twelve-year-olds have you had sex with?
How fitting that this confrontation takes place in such a filthy room. We are in the break room of Ray’s new job, a room filled with garbage, exposed conduit, and dirty walls and floors. This is a room, we are told, were no one cleans up -- not even the janitor. Scenic designer Stephanie Kerley Schwartz provides a dimensional, naturalistic set in a very small black box space. It is a box set that does not feel like a box set.
Overall, the design work is by far the most unified this reviewer has seen in Los Angeles. The lighting design by Leigh Allen and sound design by Christopher Moscatiello move together in perfect synchronicity, playing off the set. Jocelyn Hulau Parker has made deliberate choices in wardrobe that reveal character. All is unified with a consistent color palette and a dedication to detail. There is not a moment you doubt the reality of this onstage world. Naturally, such a realistic environment falls to the background, allowing the actors space to fully realize their roles.
Corryn Cummins is arresting as Una. At first, her choices seemed a little off. There seemed to be a strange artificiality to her delivery that nagged at me. At the midpoint of the play, when she details the sexual encounter in graphic detail, it struck me: she’s still twelve years-old. Her development has been fixed at that age, and everything she says is being delivered in the voice of a twelve year-old girl. It’s wrenching. At times she seems to hate herself as much as she hates him. Ms. Cummins lays bare Una’s hurt and heartache, holding nothing back, pushing forward to the dark conclusion of the confrontation.
Sam Anderson wears his role, creating a sympathetic character by fully investing in him. Ray has a rich internal life that manifests fluidly. Moments of brutal, graphic honesty are practically whispered with such a plaintive voice it draws you into his world. His physicality is immediate and revealing as well. The moral ambiguity of Harrower’s play hinges on the actor playing Ray, and Mr. Anderson remains true to the reality of the character. His Ray seems perfectly oblivious to what a monster he is. After a tearful, emotional exchange where he assures Una that he returned for her, that he felt guilty for not protecting her and being there for her, he uses much the same words to describe his relationship with his girlfriend’s daughter: “I take care of her. I look after her.” Mr. Anderson does not editorialize, does not inject any sense of irony into such moments, and his work is all the more disturbing.
Director Robin Larsen maintains a steady hand, drawing the play as taut as possible. Her staging accentuates the predator and prey relationship between the characters (and this is a relationship that shifts back and forth) while preserving a believable economy of movement. Nothing felt wasted or forced.
Towards the end of the play Ray and Una revel in the garbage like children, emptying the garbage can and kicking it around the stage. They are playing together. After everything that came before this moment, and knowing what happens immediately after, this is a revelatory moment in the story of Ray and Una. The execution of this moment reveals a masterful alignment of text, design, direction and performance. That moment, and all the moments of the play that add up to the experience of Blackbird will follow the audience home, forcing them to confront an unconfrontable circumstance. This is the gift of live theatre: the chance to gain experiential knowledge in safety; the opportunity to be moved by the unthinkable.
Blackbird is performed Saturdays and Sundays at 5 pm and Mondays at 8 pm through September 12, 2011. (NOTE: There are a few exceptions to this run schedule: Blackbird will be performed on Saturday, August 27 at 8 pm and Sunday August 28 at 7 pm. There are no performances on August 20th or 29th)
Rogue Machine is located in Theatre Theater at 5041 W. Pico Boulevard, Los Angeles, California 90019, just three blocks West of La Brea.
Ticket prices: $25 - $30.
For reservations call: 855 585-5185 or visit www.roguemachinetheatre.com