Filthy Talk For Troubled Times
Subtitled “Scenes of Intolerance,” this re-working of Neil LaBute’s 1989 treatise on his normal themes of heterosexual men’s fear-based dominance of perceived lesser beings, namely women and gay men, has been given an extraordinarily intelligent re-thought. Long mistaken as a anti-female misogynist, LaBute’s understandable rage over the way men (and by extension male-dominated religion) hurt women (and themselves) by not acknowledging the valid differences between the genders, is dramatically muscular, funny, as well as spot-on.
Director Frédérique Michel and co-producer and scenic designer Charles Duncombe have set LaBute’s verbally-scatological play in an art museum, during an art-opening. ncreasingly drunk men in tuxes-sans-ties ogle the art that is not on the walls, namely three totally nude women, who carry large bright-red hatboxes that strategically cover their nether parts. What Duncombe added to the play (with LaBute’s permission) is having the three Art-Objects (Kyle Kindle, Heather Leigh Pasternak and Vera Petrychenka) talk philosophically about the nature of Art, never commenting on the vileness of the four men who dog their every move. The two characters who are allowed to comment are the wait-persons (Cynthia Mance and Katrina Nelson), wittily dressed in frilly black mini-skirts, black hose, no bras, clunky shoes and bright-red little hats who observe, mostly in monologue, about how badly men treat them and how badly they accept that treatment, dreaming of sexual revenges.
It is fascinating to see how Michel’s always-avant-garde productions (normally featuring female and male nudity) mesh with LaBute’s phallic fetishizing of male boorish behavior. It is very European, refreshingly free from middle-class moralizing that mars so much of American culture. But LaBute is on to something, so attention must be paid, to quote from a famous artistic source.
It’s a brilliant move in re-creating this oddity by placing it in an art gallery, especially by showcasing the abstract work (Space Scapes) of Dallas-born painter Cameron Jordan. The 25-year-old production company, City Garage, has been at the Santa Monica Bergamot Station, Track 16, Building C1, for about a year now and continue their steady-reputation for off-the-beaten-track (pun intended, thank you very much) theatre. Michel is a conceptual artist, given to bold thinking and – sometimes – unable to bring in seasoned actors to do her bidding, including requiring precise diction of them. This problem is briefly on display here, with the actors well-moved but not always well-motivated or well-spoken. The four 30-ish men, Troy Dunn, David E. Frank, Dave Mack and Kenneth Rudniki, all acquit themselves beautifully, seemingly comfortable in the meanness of their dialogue and inner-monologues. Mack, especially, wove his haunted male in revealing circles.
This is an exciting production, beautifully mounted, and does justice to the author’s intent. If there is any quibble, it is in worrying about the nude women’s health as the theatre was cold opening night and the platforms they sit on are hard wood. No sacrifice, it would seem, is too great in creating art.
At Bergamot Station, 2525 Michigan Avenue, Santa Monica (just north of the 10 Freeway and three blocks east of Cloverfield Blvd. You will need those directions, trust me). Through February 26th, 2012. Tickets: 310.319.9939 or at www.citygrarage.org (link: Brown Paper Tickets).