punkplay 

Reviewed by Vanessa Cate
Circle X Theatre Co.
Through December 21 

RECOMMENDED 

For anyone who grew up as an outsider, Gregory S. Moss’s punkplay packs the sweetness of nostalgia into an energetic 90 minutes. Although each scene flows fluidly into the next, each scene is also inspired by a distinct punk rock song. The play is almost like a mixtape — even if you can’t hear all of the songs the writer was inspired by, the spirit of the music is intrinsically imbedded in the work. Moss’s piece, therefore, is a deeply personal gift to the audience.

Mickey (Zackarry Stone Gearing) and Duck (Dempsey Bryk) are adolescent boys growing up in the Reagan-era American suburbs. Duck has been thrown out of his house, so he asks to stay with Mickey. Over the course of the following year, the two find comfort and a sense of identity in the punk rock movement of the time — which serves both to cohere and to tear them apart.

Moss’s script is written with near-militant stage direction — an approach notably more structured than the violent sloppiness and ravaged messiness inherent in punk style. Co-directors Matt Bretz and Lisa Sanaye Dring follow the playwright’s vision admirably, and have cultivated performances and moments more human than lesser directors may have done amid sometimes stifling requirements and in such a stylized play.

Truthfully, the writer’s vision, when realized, is a brilliant glimpse back to what it was like growing up as an angst-ridden teenager, desperately searching for understanding and railing against conformity amid the “foodeaters and motherfuckers.” The script is buoyant, vivid, poetic, humorous, and painfully and sweetly real.

There is also something so very tender about punkplay’s portrayal of youthful masculinity, and its depiction of growing from a boy into a man. Essentially formative moments are portrayed with finesse, from cigarette burns to teenage ideology, sloppy kisses, unbearable heartbreak, and being unable to express yourself the way you most wish you could.

Circle X’s creative team executes a loving homage to adolescence with all-around skill. The design team makes something at once pristine and dangerous. Ann Closs-Farley’s costume and wig design is masterfully authentic and Sibyl Wickersheimer’s set is a blank canvas interspersed with punk artifacts and growing texture.

Performances from the ensemble are charming, but Gearing carries the show. His sincerity is so refreshing, an audience might be forgiven for considering going back in time to younger and simpler years and reliving the agony of youth all over again.

Atwater Village Theatre, 3269 Casitas Ave., Atwater Village; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 7 p.m.; through Dec. 21. https://buytickets.at/circlextheatrecompany/304274. Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission.

Mono/Poly 

Reviewed by Vanessa Cate
Tubeman Productions
Through November 10th 

RECOMMENDED 

Love and sex are complicated, and although they are a necessary part of our human existence, not many people will say that building a lasting relationship is easy. However, many people do hold onto the notion that there is a blueprint for success — a patented game plan called monogamy. A “closed” relationship between two exclusively committed individuals, monogamy has classically been a societal default. However, in recent years, you may have heard the term “polyamory” more and more. You may even know (or be) someone who is poly. Polyamory of course is an umbrella term for the many different ways you can engage in ethical non-monogamy.

When I received the press release for Brian Reynolds’s Mono/Poly, I knew I had to see it — if only for the reason that I might (probably) be the only polyamorous individual to review it. I wondered (feared): Would the play merely be a sitcom-ish jab at people who live a different lifestyle from the norm? Luckily, no. Although the opening scene did have me worried.

Two actively hetero, monogamous couples — Susan and Jerry (Georgia Gould and Travis Joe Dixon), and Henri and Miles (Angela Sauer and Dennis Renard) — are trying to survive a party gone wrong. Whoever’s bright idea it was to combine an important business meeting with a Halloween party gave too much credit to young adults in costumes surrounded by vodka. In the other room, things are getting out of hand as increasingly drunk business associates get wild. One woman in particular, Krystal (Megan Gainey), is hooking up with everyone in sight. Meanwhile, the two women comment on each other’s costume choices and the men salivate over their general objectification of women. Collectively, the scene is mostly a series of slut-shaming and an unflattering representation of cis-hetero life.

Things interestingly become much more grounded once we are introduced to our polyamorous triad, partially because the playwright himself is polyamorous (and is fairly transparent in his judgement on monogamy, as well as the tangible comfort and joy he expressed in his writing from a perspective he personally relates to), and partially because the actors in the triad are more seasoned. Scott (Robert Mammana), razor sharp and undeniably charismatic, deftly explains polyamory in a way that repulses, intrigues, and excites our monos. Partially as a business opportunity, and partially as a social experiment to delight his own fancies, Scott invites the two couples to have dinner with his family. While reluctant, they ultimately agree.

For 19 years, Scott has been in a polyamorous relationship with Bridget (Renata De Costa) and Victoria (a.k.a. “Dragon,” played by Tanya Alexander). While initially put off, each monogamous individual has their own personal awakening as a result of this encounter. It ultimately challenges everyone — even the veteran polyamorists — to re-evaluate how they approach their partners and their relationship styles.

The script comes off as preachy at times; it strongly advocates for one particular lifestyle without giving monogamy much credit. It also goes through several list and factoid sections of statistics and definitions. However, in order to make the content emotionally and logically accessible to all viewers, this approach does seem necessary.

Sexuality and sexual politics is an important consideration in the script, as is queerness and BDSM. Because true polyamory hinges most heavily on communication, consent, and clear boundaries (not the swinging free-for-all that some people think it is), the overlap with the LGBT and BDSM communities and lifestyles is a realistic and sensical one. Still, the script does not fetishize any of its characters. Victoria — a power dom — is most heavily equated with the role she fills. However, even her representation is a refreshing and celebratory one, rather than being depicted as a cartoonish femme dom. Indeed, all of the characters might have been written in a way that hopes to appeal to some viewer to whom it might occur: “that’s me.”

Those seeking an outlandish romp into sexual deviance should look elsewhere. This play serves best as an introduction to a conversation about what polyamory authentically looks like. On the night of the performance I attended, I heard audience exclamations ranging from, “That is CRAZY!” to “I don’t think I could ever do that,” and from “I think I would be this character” to actual conversations about how to approach challenging situations with a partner.

The other great importance of this production is for polyamorous audience members, who are often misunderstood and not accurately represented, might finally feel seen in a way that feels fair and accurate, at least to some extent. The polycules who have been attending the play so far have expressed a notable delight, bordering on relief.

Odyssey Theatre, 2055 S. Sepulveda Blvd., Sawtelle; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m.; through Nov. 10; https://monopolytheplay.com. Running time: one hour 55 minutes with one intermission.

Dr. Rocket’s Twilight Carnival 

Reviewed by Vanessa Cate
Nocturnal Fandango
Closed; To Recur Indefinitely

RECOMMENDED 

It’s midnight. I pull up to a series of worn buildings and homes on a dark street in the heart of Los Angeles. The address was sent to me earlier that day, but I don’t know where I am. I have been instructed to look for a woman in black. I approach a stranger, unsure. She directs me past a parking lot to a garage. There is a man waiting there, sipping a Slurpee. “First time?” he says.

This could be the setup for a drug deal or a criminal scandal. Instead, it’s the story of one sleepy theater reviewer going to see an immersive show on a Saturday night.

Nocturnal Fandango’s Dr. Rocket’s Twilight Carnival is comprised of nine half-hour pieces taking place in various locations around the city. Although it would be much more convenient if they were all more centrally located, the reasoning for the specific, disparate locations is clear; rather than trying to fit each narrative into one warehouse, the creators decided to fit each piece to a location that best served the storyline.

The immersive style of Nocturnal Fandango intentionally blurs the lines of reality and fantasy in an attempt to create extreme situations that audience members may never otherwise experience. Each piece is performed for a single participant. So although the man sipping the Slurpee could just be any man from the outside world (you enter the garage with him and one other man that pulls up late), he and everything else are included for and tailored to the audience’s immersion.

Out of the nine pieces, I experienced two: Shenandoah’s Mockingbird Garden and The World’s Last Spacecake Planetarium. Nocturnal Fandango productions are written and directed by Kevin Davidson, Chelsea Morgan, and Jason Davidson. However, because of the nature of the piece, much of the dialogue is improvised by the actors, a young and staunch ensemble fully committed to their hyperreality.

Detailing plot points should never be the focus of a review, nor is it possible to broadly summarize one of these pieces because of the very nature of its personalization. Every audience member will react differently, say different things, make different choices. So ultimately the experience is, in some ways at least, more like an RPG than a traditional stage play. Still, the personalized experience is the point, what you as an isolated audience member experience and conjure in the hands of the ensemble is the great takeaway.

Shenandoah’s Mockingbird Garden takes place in a barely lit garage in an alternate reality in which people are forced to couple, or face death. As you sit on a small couch, wedged between the man sipping a Slurpee and the guy who drove up late, a woman instructs: “Go into the other room, take off your clothes, and perform penetrative sex.”

To set your mind at rest, no, I did not perform penetrative sex with an actor in a Los Angeles garage. I was given the opportunity to take off my clothing based on my comfort level — I was not required to. With the first man I stayed fully clothed (he wore underwear). With the second man, we both took off our shirts, and cuddled. I am aware that some of the Nocturnal Fandango shows include greater levels of nudity and, I have heard, sexual simulation on the parts of the actors, and at times levels of physical contact with the audience. However, I did not experience this. Nocturnal Fandango also sends viewers a questionnaire beforehand, to get their consent and surmise their comfort level.

The physical intimacy with a stranger in a suspended disbelief is something that could easily entice or repulse an audience member. “You’re a good cuddler,” the Slurpee drinker told me. But these heightened experiences are only part of what you get out of the performance. I was being led to make an important choice, and that decision is where the artistry comes in. The show, set simply in a garage with nearly no lighting, with three actors, a couch, a blanket on the floor, and a Slurpee, ultimately revealed to me my own thoughts on love and survival. As I left the garage, I wondered if I should have done something differently, or if I could use this lesson in my own real-life relationships.

Less poignant but more fun, The World’s Last Spacecake Planetarium takes place in a sparse home, ravaged by an apocalypse thought to be brought about by unseen aliens. Inside the house live two colorful survivors: Sweet Pea and Providence Potter. They lead you through a series of tests to determine whether or not you are infected with whatever disease brought about the end of humanity. It is when another visitor arrives that things become a bit more intense, and you are once again asked to make a choice.

In a theater landscape where “immersive” is a sexy word (one that is often overused by producers hoping to capitalize on the form’s current popularity), Nocturnal Fandango is undeniably that. The group is young, and that lends a vitality necessary for such brazen work. Over time, their work will no doubt refine further; design elements in particular could be improved upon, as production details could add even more to the experience. For instance, if you’ve survived in a post-apocalyptic situation for months or years, you shouldn’t look like you’ve just enjoyed a clean shower. Detailed texture might elevate this show into a place fixed somewhere between fever dream and exceptional theater.

Nocturnal Fandango, performed in various locations around Los Angeles; Closed. www.nocturnalfandango.org. Running time varies.