Backyard

Backyard

Reviewed by Mayank Keshaviah
 

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It’s rare that fight choreographers gets much ink in theater reviews. Usually their names are mentioned, sometimes with a little elaboration for a particularly physical show, but their acclaim hardly ever rises above that level. In this case, allow me to break the mold to tout Ahmed Best’s authentic, brutal, and dynamic wrestling sequences that bring to life the world premiere of Mickey Birnbaum’s Backyard. Set in the less-than-glamorous suburbs of Mexico-adjacent San Diego, Birnbaum’s tale provides a window into the violent and dangerous phenomenon of backyard wrestling, in which teenage fans emulate the moves of their favorite professional wrestlers and then upload videos of their bouts to the Internet. On stage, Best realizes the aggression, creativity, and risk that characterize these matches.

But Best would have little to work with if not for Birnbaum’s words, which perfectly capture both the naked bravado and fragile insecurity of the American teenage male. The two manifestations of that persona in this case are Chuck (Ian Bamberg) and Ray (Adan Rocha), best friends and co-conspirators in spinning tales of fantasy and destruction into backyard brawls. Chuck, “The Destroyer”, is the one more concerned with story and has historically been the victor over Ray, “The King of Tears.”

“It’s not about winning,” Ray protests. “It’s about how much shit you can take.”

But as they prepare for their “epic” upcoming backyard match, for which they plan to sell tickets, Ray’s dissatisfaction with his role as the vanquished becomes increasingly apparent.

Chuck’s mother Carrie (Jacqueline Wright) is not only a party to her son’s hijinks, but she tries desperately to become involved. She comes home from work, unbuttons the shirt of her Animal Control Department uniform, and lounges on an inflatable pool raft on dry land, beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Watching the boys tangle, she goads them on, allowing her son to drink, smoke, swear, and beat his friend to a pulp. And when Chuck gets too wrapped up in the storyline behind the match, she tells him, “Fight like a man, Chuck. Leave the fantasy shit out.” Mother of the Year she is not.

Carrie does have a dark pain, though, which finally appears in the form of Chuck’s absentee father Ted (Hugo Armstrong), who quickly bonds with his son over tales of his own purported fighting days. “We didn’t have a story when I fought,” he tells Chuck. “You didn’t get to be somebody.”

Chick replies, “We’re all about entertainment.”

Ted concurs, “It’s better that way.”

That the two of them become so close, so quickly, drives Carrie crazy, leading to a brutal and hilarious brawl between Chuck’s parents. It also leads to Carrie helping Ray craft his new wrestling persona, “The Komodo Dragon.”

Ray, too, has dark family secrets and periodically visits the nearby border fence to toss packs of Marlboros to his father, Raymundo Sr. (Richard Azurdia), who still lives in Mexico, separated from Ray and his mother. Raymundo Sr. was once a luchador (wrestler), and he tries to share his experience with his son. Not left out of the pain-fest of unbelonging is the final member of this darkly comedic cast of characters, Lilith (Esmer Kazvinova), who carries razor blades and wants desperately to prove herself as tough as the boys. There is a fierce mystery to her character throughout as she searches for a name for her own wrestling persona.

Bringing these intense and ferocious personalities together, director Larry Biederman and assistant director Katherine Tanner effectively capture the heightened reality of Birnbaum’s world. With scenic designer Stephen Gifford, they also create a playing space that’s both imagistically evocative of the San Diego landscape and realistically run-down in a “West Coast white trash” way. Similarly, Kathryn Poppen’s costumes, which cleverly employ found materials for the wrestlers’ get-ups, enhance the theatricality of the world.

The dynamite cast brings a tremendous energy to the physically and emotionally demanding show. Bamberg (as in Echo’s previous production Firemen) palpably embodies masculine teenage rage and anxiety, while Rocha is endearing as his put-upon straight man. Wright is phenomenal as always, with her cheeky grin and feistiness, making sparks fly when paired with the macho bravado, gumption, and amazing sense of self-delusion Armstrong gives to Ted. Azurdia’s easy humor leaves us wanting to know more about Raymundo Sr., whose story isn’t fully explored, and newcomer Kazvinova showcases vulnerability beneath her brooding façade.

The climax of this royal rumble culminates in an outrageous act of brutality, but the characters casually go on with their lives in its aftermath, reminding us just how desensitized we have become to violence as a society.

Echo Theater Company at Atwater Village Theatre, 3269 Casitas Ave., Atwater Village; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; through July 13. (310) 307-3753, www.EchoTheaterCompany.com