100 Aprils
Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
Rogue Machine at The MET Theatre
Extended through July 23
RECOMMENDED
Leslie Ayvazian’s play about a dying man haunted by dreams of the Armenian genocide coalesces around an exemplary performance by John Perrin Flynn as the ebbing invalid.
Designer John Iacovelli’s purposefully bland hospital set — a psychiatric ward circa 1982 — frames this offbeat one-act that, like its main character, switches continually from a shared reality to a private one of the mind. The main theme seems to be the combined effect of unresolved anger and unacknowledged guilt on the psyche of those who have suffered great loss. But because much of the action is rooted in the foibles and inconsistencies of the characters, the piece also delivers a wry humor in spite of its broad tragic backdrop.
In addition to the mentally afflicted John (Flynn), who’s recently tried to do himself in and so has been bound to the bed, the other characters include his wife Beatrice (Ayvazian), his hyper daughter Arlene (Rachel Sorsa) and a phantom of his imagination named Ahmet (Robertson Dean) who happens to resemble John’s doctor. At some point a nurse (Janet Song) shows up, the quintessence of professional efficiency and an ideal foil for this unsettled family.
It’s soon apparent that while Beatrice cares about John, it’s born more of a wifely duty than any great affection. She frequently adopts the super-patient tone one takes with truculent children. His daughter on the other hand, appears totally devoted, and succumbs even to his irrational wishes, such as washing his pajamas in the sink and laying them, soaking wet, over his shins (after which he complains). To alleviate the stress of being around this discombobulated man, both women need to take long waiting room breaks.
Under Michael Arabian’s direction, the performances range from utterly realistic, exemplified in Flynn’s performance, to Ayvazian’s Beatrice sharp-edged, slightly larger-than-life Beatrice, who’s both harried wife and nagging mom. Her presentation is effective, however. Sorsa’s agitated Arlene is on track but isn’t entirely convincing. Dean capably serves as the symbol of everything still tormenting John. Song’s taciturn nurse is perfect.
The play has disconcerting tonal shifts as well. But Brian Gale’s accomplished lighting adds notable texture to the story, which takes a strange twist as it pursues its expression of what happens when people’s sense of justice is denied.
Rogue Machine at the MET Theatre, 1089 N. Oxford Ave., Hollywood; Sat. and Mon., 8:30 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; extended through July 23. https://roguemachinetheatre.net. Running time: 75 minutes with no intermission.
