Phoebe Zeitgeist Returns to Earth

Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
City Garage
Through November 13

In 1995, City Garage (then located in an alley off the Promenade in Santa Monica) mounted a production of Blood on a Cat’s Neck, a 1971 stage play by the prolific filmmaker, playwright and incisive social critic, Rainer Werner Fassbinder. Directed by City Garage co-founder and artistic director, Frederique Michel, it revolved around a visit to Earth by a vampire-like extraterrestrial, Phoebe Zeitgeist, who interacts with citizens from various walks of life, enabling her observation of the violent, cruel and alienating aspects of human interaction. The locale was Nuremberg, Germany, and Fassbinder was commenting on the fascistic elements that simmer beneath the surface in a deceptively ordered and civil society.

Now here we are, election time 2016 in the United States of America, with most any rational person, Republican or Democrat, appalled at the manifestation of our very own homegrown political monster — the American political id unchained, as it were, evinced in the growling and howling among the supporters of the misogynist and racist inciter-to-violence Donald Trump.

In keeping with current events, producing director for City Garage Charles A. Duncombe has drawn inspiration from Fassbinder’s original with his newest play, Phoebe Zeitgeist Returns to Earth, also directed by Michel. Again, a space alien resembling a human female visits our planet to learn about its inhabitants. Instead of landing in Nuremberg, however, Phoebe (Megan Kim), who is marked by her robotic manner, electric blue bob and bare chest, lands on the streets of a city in the U.S., where she encounters (among others) a cop, a garbage collector, a madam, a schoolgirl, a gigolo and even a political activist, and a young, white upper-middle-class guy (probably an ex-Bernie supporter who’s made the leap to Hillary) anxious to recruit voters to the side of reason.

The psychological profiles of these various characters are relayed in a series of disturbing but insightful monologues at the top, after which they variously interreact, mostly with cruelty, callousness and spite. A salacious homeless vet (Anthony M. Sannazzaro) sexually assaults the unwary Phoebe; later, he’s randomly singled out as the target of an unprovoked beating by the garbage man (Bo Roberts), a Trump supporter (although the candidate’s name is never actually mentioned) and a former rock star (David E. Frank). In other scenarios, people use sex as a tool to exploit: A college girl (Lindsay Plake) seduces her professor (Trace Taylor) to ensure academic success, then discards her, while a porn star (Kate Rappaport) sets up her own operation exploiting other women. The do-gooding activist (Johnny Langan) isn’t out to hurt anyone, but he likes to be hurt himself, and he’s obliged by a scary girl (Kat Johnson), who also participates offhandedly in the beating of the homeless guy, just for fun.

It’s a grim depiction of humanity, made grimmer by performances that for the most part are representational portraits, with little depth. The flip side of these characters, their vulnerability, isn’t explored. That may be a directorial choice, but for this theatergoer, the limitation is a minus.

While Phoebe’s arrival and ultimate departure are attractively embellished with astral images, the lighting and video designs are less significant and pronounced than is usual with City Garage. For a company where tech is almost always a vital part of the spectacle, the few lighting changes as the play shifts from one scenario to the next feel especially insufficient — an understandable rush to production, perhaps, given what’s at stake on November 8.

City Garage, Bergamot Station, 2525 Michigan Avenue, Santa Monica; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m., Sun., 3 p.m.; through November 13. (310) 453-9939, citygarage.org. Running time: 80 minutes with no intermission.