meg o’connor

I was surfing Tix Bay Area on the TBA site just to see what was out there, and saw the title of a play I recognized: Blasted by Sarah Kane. I c licked on the link, read what little information there was, and bought my ticket. It didn’t matter that the ticket wasn’t cheap (though not pricey either) and it didn’t matter I knew so little about the theater company putting it on, or the hotel it was being put on in. It was a Sarah Kane play, actually being performed, so I had to go!

Blasted is a story that takes place in a hotel room in Leeds. It is about Ian, a journalist and awful human being, Cate, a simple young woman who was formerly in a relationship with Ian, and a Soldier who rips their tiny hotel-room-world apart. Ian spends the first half of the play trying to have sex with Cate, but she makes it clear she is not sharing this hotel room with him for that reason, and has to constantly push him off of her. Scene one ends and with scene two you find out Ian has raped Cate. You can see she has been forever changed by this, and her simple, child-like, attitude is now gone. Ian’s actions create a war inside the hotel room, and outside of it. A soldier bursts into the room and terrorizes Ian for three scenes, telling the intimate details of his lost love, his motivation to fight, and his torture techniques, which he later tries out on Ian (rape and sucking the eyeballs out of his sockets). Cate returns with a baby someone has thrown to her in the chaos of the war outside. The baby dies and Ian, starving, eats it and dies as well. Cate is left alone in a crumbling hotel room, in war-torn Leeds, with three dead bodies surrounding her.

An upper, huh? This production (put on by 19;29) was performed in a hotel room in the Mosser Hotel, and the eight-nine audience members are given black cloth masks to wear, and are invited to walk around the action as it happens. The ‘audience’ was warned the action may become overwhelming, and at anytime, we were welcome to leave. It felt like we were entering into something far more dangerous than just a play, which I appreciated, since Sarah Kane writes very dangerous plays. And there were some aspects of the performances that were stellar, and some that left the already abstract story more confusing than it needed to be.

What I loved:

The fact it was put on in a hotel room! And there was no designated audience section. We were the walls, the vase with the flowers in it, the seat at one point (Ian sat in the lap of an audience member). We didn’t have the added comfort of the distance from the front row to the stage- we were in Ian’s hotel room, watching terrible things happen, as if they were happening to us, and that was the most daring and effective part of the show.

The soldier blew my mind. His performance truly showed how complex a mindless killer can be. This soldier has killed so many people, but not just for his country. He is avenging the death of his lover, Col, and no matter how many people he kills, no matter how gruesome his acts are, Col can never come back, and in the end the soldier finds relief in suicide. And this actor (I don’t know the names, we received no programs) hit every note spot on. He completely committed, and carried the performance to a new level.

The playwright. I love Sarah Kane. I don’t love watching terrible things happen to people. I don’t love rape, torture, pain, suicide- but I love that this woman wrote these disturbing plays to make sure theater wasn’t this safe place for people to run to. I love a good Neil Simon comedy or a Stephen Schwartz musical, but if that was all live theater was, it would be lacking. Sarah Kane writes the impossible, and people make it happen. That inspires me to write.

What I loved-not:

It was performed by Americans. Sarah Kane writes like a Brit. She uses terms like “pet”, “love”, and “football match”. Ian and Cate should have english accents, but in the play they spoke with classic american accents, which would be fine, if they had tweaked the slang. Though, then there is an exchange between Ian and the soldier, and Ian talks about being Welsh, and when it is an American claiming he’s Welsh…well, it just doesn’t fly. Even though there were times I was inches away from Ian or Cate, the inconsistency distanced me.

And I found Ian and Cate were overpowered by the soldier. Neither of them truly committed. Some examples of non-committal: at one point Cate tries to bite off Ian’s penis. In this scene, Ian just pushes her off of him. No scream, barely any twinge of pain. Come on! A woman is biting off your penis, and you don’t scream! It happened again when the soldier sucks out his eyeballs. Someone is sucking the eyeballs out of your sockets! Really?! You got nothing!?!?! And Cate played her role a little too child-like.  Even when terrible things happened to her, she just seemed disconnected from her character, and taking the obvious acting choice. I could not imagine performing either of those roles, so I feel like the hypocritical jerk, but if you put on Sarah Kane, I think you have to respect her enough to find the people who can actually do justice to her words.

Moment of the night:

I bonded with other audience members and we all went out for dinner afterward. We spent the whole meal discussing the play (which was such a relief. After seeing a show like this, you need to talk it out.) and drinking beers. They were a delight, and it reminds me I live in an awesome city. One of the women I joined for dinner is a performance artist, and she is blogging about her experience. Check it out at      http://unstills.com/

I have begun a new play, and I am going to re-read my outline and first scene, see if I have anywhere to go, and then prepare for rehearsal tonight. (More on that later.)

I have just returned home from the theater.

(I’m all about class)

I saw Octopus by Steve Yockey at the Magic Theater. Octopus is about a couple who decide to invite another couple in their bed, and the consequences that come with it. There is jealously, guilt, uncovered secrets, and an HIV scare. (Oh, and full-frontal male nudity)

And as the lights came up and the last image of the play was fading from my mind, I just wasn’t sure whether I loved it, or loved it not. It was on the (long, stinky, warm) bus ride home I realized I fell more on the loved-it side of the fence.

What I Loved:

The first thing I saw was the set. This was not the first set of Erik Flatmo I had fallen in love with, but I think my crush on this set will last. On the small Sam Shepard stage, there was this perfectly contained, trendy apartment. It looked comfortable and real. When the lights in the apartment were out, this faint blue light surrounded the black square, and it made it feel like an apartment at the bottom of the ocean.

Leading to my next love-it moment. The title, Octopus. Love it. Three of the foursome are told (via telegram) that the fourth is at the bottom of the ocean, and is eventually killed by a sea monster. This is also the character who discovers he is HIV positive. In the end, you discover that this monster isn’t the giant AIDS Octopus…it has nothing to do with the disease. It is the monster they created together. When the four men, with their eight arms, were amid the orgy, one member of the main couple allows himself to be devoured by this monster, while the other half just watches. And this monster has the power to kill their relationship…and them.

And finally, I really enjoyed the acting. Four gay men were portrayed as characters, not as stereotypes, and it was very refreshing. I was impressed by all four performers, but the one who really stayed with me was Liam Vincent, who played Max, a member of the ‘other couple.’ He had wildly manic monologues that he performed flawlessly and it was a real joy to see him grapple with so many emotions within a few seconds.

Favorite line: “Don’t say my name like it tastes bad.”

What I Loved-Not:

It happens in most plays, but it always bugs me- forced humor. I think playwrights feel they first have to lull an audience in with a few jokes before hitting them with the real story. An example from this show: the sassier member of the couple tells his partner to stop stomping around in his judgement boots. I giggled. But then ‘judgement boots’ was pressed. What are judgement boots? Etc. To me, I think a playwright has to trust that the audience is already there, ready to watch a story. They are not there to see stand-up. Don’t force laughs.

And what really bugged me…was the little write-up in the back of the program. I wish I hadn’t read it before the show, so I could have had an un-biased eye. The writer claims that the ‘remarkable’ thing in the show is what is ‘unremarked upon in the play.’ She claims the fact that these four men aren’t struggling to be accepted, or that they don’t even mention that they’re gay, is what makes this show unique. I found that to be untrue. If the fact that they were gay was never discussed OUTSIDE of the play, and the story was described as four lovers fighting against a symbolic sea monster, then it could truly be considered a victory for the gay community. This writer also compared Steven Yockey to Tony Kushner- and that did me in. I kept on comparing this script to Angels in America. HIV running rampant, lovers considering leaving because it would be too hard, true love finding a way, crazy-Harper-esque monologues- there were too many similarities. Maybe there wouldn’t have been as many had I not read the back of the program. The world may never know.

But I would suggest to friends to go see it (though it c loses in two days) and see for themselves what the octopus meant to them.

And now for the best part of going to a play- the inspiration that follows. Farewell, I am off to experiment with the experimental.