The Burning House Group
Review: "Say What You Mean"
Resident Evil
Lying politicians, pompous villains,
and the wrath of a
single mom
by Dylan Hicks
Colleen Kruse's prose is economical and
colloquial--tough
like Dashiell Hammett. Her
delivery has the smoky world-weariness of detective-movie voiceover.
But Kruse's
hardboiled carapace only partially covers a sensitive interior.
Her self-directed,
autobiographical play Thirty Days in Frogtown also brings to
mind a more emotionally
open writer, Anne Lamott, whose sad and funny memoir Operating
Instructions covers
similar thematic ground. Like Lamott, Kruse deals with being
a broke and confused
single mom during her baby's premiere year, telling her story
with a cool mix of drollery
and melancholy.
The literary comparisons seem appropriate because
Thirty Days is more like a reading
than a "show." Kruse sits on a stool, frequently
referring to her text. Her physical stasis
isn't such a problem--this is unmistakably a dramatic reading,
with smart pauses and
acted dialogue, and besides, I wasn't expecting interpretative
dance. But Kruse is a
natural actor and storyteller; a more theatrical presentation--and
more glimpses of
Kruse's looser stand-up style--would further vivify the work.
Thanks to sharp details and folksy metaphors, though, the
show is already pretty vivid.
The title refers to a month Kruse spent in apartment limbo
during the late '80s. Faced
with an eviction notice (just for not paying the rent--fascists!),
barely adult Kruse and her
six-month old daughter need some temporary digs. They end up
crashing in a dicey
area of St. Paul's Frogtown neighborhood with a sweet-but-spooky
friend whose home-
décor style is of the I'm building a garbage house school.
Determined to spend
minimum time at the apartment, Kruse works long hours at a
coffee shop while the
baby's in daycare. A romance with a regular espresso buyer--a
shy, charming Israeli
businessman--starts light but ends up raising heavy questions
about class and sex,
especially in the way Kruse and her much older beau subtly
wrestle for control of the
relationship.
Complementing Kruse's yarn are several original
songs by singer-pianist Karen Paurus,
who has also fronted bands such as Holiday Ranch. Depending
on your age, Paurus's
jazz chords and blue notes might remind you of Laura Nyro or
Norah Jones. The songs
could make more concessions to melodic and lyrical hooks, but
they're gorgeously sung
with full-throated soul. Close your eyes and you might even
think you're back at the
Blues Saloon in Frogtown.
Conceived by Matt Guidry and originally
staged at the 2001 Fringe Festival, the
Burning House Group's Say What You Mean is a collage of the
real-life speeches--or
rather, calumnies, gibberish, and lies--of politicians from
the Federalist era to the
Bushes. While Jeff Toffler serves as moderator and backing
band, Guidry and costar
Allen Baker spout this jumbled rhetoric with gusto, providing
commentary by juxtaposing
the words with well-executed movement choices: They present
the candidates as lovers,
as puppets, as wrestlers. But it's not enough. Although a few
extended quotes try to
show the darker purpose (and occasional wit and wisdom) behind
the sound and fury,
the show is ultimately too successful at evoking a filibuster
in the Tower of Babel. One
leaves as frustrated and nonplussed as corpulent president
William Taft after a
steaming plate of mock duck and kale.
The clueless rich kids
and good-for-nothing swillpots in Shakespeare's dark
comedy Twelfth Night seem to deserve their happy ending as
much as G.W. deserves
the presidency. In Pigs Eye Theatre's uneven but likable production,
the villain of the
subplot, the court steward Malvolio (Craig Johnson), improbably
becomes the play's
most sympathetic character. Sure, Malvolio's a pompous prig
and a wet blanket, but he
doesn't deserve the cruel prank that lands him in the loony
bin (box, in fact). Johnson is
perfect in the role, whether he's playing fastidious or ridiculous
or heartbroken. When, at
the play's end, he vows revenge on his tormenters, I was rooting
for him. Perhaps
director Matt Sciple didn't mean for Malvolio to become a clownish
anti-hero, though he
does underline the flaws of the play's proper heroes. But,
hey, some have greatness
thrust upon 'em.
|
