absurdist

This is ‘Happy’

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By John Lyle Belden

Decades before the popular “This is Fine” meme showed a cartoon dog smiling through a burning hellscape, famed Irish author and playwright Samuel Beckett penned the play, “Happy Days.” If pressed for a quick explanation of this unusual two-person show (completely unrelated to the 1970s TV sitcom), I would say it is as if the unfortunate but contented pooch had two acts to elaborate on how “fine” things are, and were.

Long considered by commenters an excellent example of Theatre of the Absurd, “Happy Days” is presented by Clerical Error Productions this weekend (through Feb. 26) at the District Theatre.

Clerical Error founder Kate Duffy is Winnie, just your typical Irish woman who is buried at least to her waist in a burning desert. A bell sounds to awaken her, and another will signal the end of the day. She awakens with a beaming smile and declaration that this is a happy day – as time passes she will, with optimism that borders on delusion, reiterate that the day is indeed happy. She has her routine. She has her black bag. She has her toothbrush. She has her hat, parasol, tonic, lipstick, Brownie the gun, and her music box. She has her song, but best not to sing it too soon.

She also has her husband. Just over the dirt mound is Willie, played with surly patience by David Mosedale. Where she is endlessly talkative, he is a man of few words, or sometimes none at all. Unable to stand, Willie makes his way in and out of his own tunnel. “What a curse, mobility,” Winnie chides him.

One gets a sense that for this couple, and perhaps the world in general, there is little future, so for our lady there is always the past, with frequent reflections on “the old style.” There is the recent memory of their last visitors, and a long-ago story of a girl and a doll.

Among actors, this play is held in the same esteem as Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot” and for the same reason: with limited physical action, this becomes the supreme test of a thespian, to engage and hold an audience for two acts with just endless talking. Duffy seems to relish the challenge, and comes through with a performance that draws you in. Directed by Jon Lindley, she accepts and goes with the absurdities in such a way that you come to feel that no matter how odd things get, this is just the way they are. Then, when the next day dawns and things have shifted, you can’t help but feel for her, wish her to have the former weirdness we had grown accustomed to in the first act.  

While observing, it is only natural for us in the audience to try to make sense of it. Beckett’s cleverly vague composition gives room for endless interpretations and metaphors. Hints and clues abound, but resolution? We are left stuck, like Winnie. Perhaps it’s best to just find an answer we are happy with.

For fans of Mr. Beckett, Ms. Duffy, or the curious open to it, this is a fascinating experience. Wendy and I found it quite entertaining – though our tastes do run to the weird, like dogs in hats in ironic webcomics.

The District is at 627 Massachusetts Ave. in downtown Indy. For information and tickets, see ClericalErrorProductions.com or IndyDistrictTheatre.org.

IndyFringe: Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind

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This is part of IndyFringe 2022, Aug. 18-Sept. 4 (individual performance times vary) in downtown Indianapolis. Details and tickets at IndyFringe.org.

By John Lyle Belden

The title of the show — “Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind” — is never said in the 24 tiny plays presented by UIndy Theatre Company at the District Theatre. To be more accurate, it is: “Too Much Time Makes the Audience Get Cookies.”

The series, “neo-futurist plays” by Greg Allen performed by UIndy students Elisabeth Enderle, Nick Finch, Audrey Panyard, and Kelli Thomas, are represented by cards numbered 1-24 at the back of the stage. The audience chooses the order, so the show is different every time.

The topic and form of each vary widely, from funny to absurd to introspective to disturbing to deadly serious. There’s also a bit of audience participation within the action. And remember, “Play 23” does not exist.

For anyone who remembers my write-up on this last year, apologies for the self-plagiarism. This is still one of the hottest tickets at the Fringe, with some new micro-plays in the mix, all excellently executed by this talented foursome. Their comic timing is great, but overall “timing”? Well, it’s hard to get this many scenes done in 48 minutes (an average of 2 minutes per play). The performance I saw this year clocked in at 49:50 — we got cookies!

Remaining performances are 3:30 p.m. Saturday and 5:15 p.m. Sunday, Sept. 3-4.

Even when history is changed, have we?

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By John Lyle Belden

From time to time, we all consider what the world would be like if certain historical events didn’t happen – or if others did. These kinds of thought experiments take on a particular point of view in “Apologies to Lorraine Hansberry (You too, August Wilson),” by Rachel Lynett, presented live in the space behind Fonseca Theatre, directed by Jamaal McCray.

“This exists in the mind of every person of color,” says Lynett through a cast member. Welcome to Bronx Bay, an all-Black state created after the just-completed Second Civil War. We who are White, Latinx, etc., are granted a brief stay to see how the story before us plays out.

Alice (Chandra Lynch) is a struggling restauranteur – the problem being that since she is a quarter Asian, she’s attempting a “Korean fusion” eatery. Her husband Lorenzo (Chinyelu Mwaafrika) is supportive, though privately believes tofu has no place in gumbo. Their close friend Jules (Latrice Young) has a new partner, Yael (Aniqua Sha’Cole), recently approved to live in Bronx Bay. We also meet their freind Izaak (Josiah McCruiston).

Everyone on the stage looks like they belong there, but a stunning revelation threatens friendships, relationships and the tranquility of this new utopia. “People died to make these rules,” Alice reminds the others. But does that make what is happening right?

In the second act, we find ourselves in another imagining of Bronx Bay, a place for families like couples Alice and Jules, and Lorenzo and Izaak. So, how does Yael fit in?

The thesis statement of this absurd drama is literally written on the set pieces: “Blackness Iz Not A Monolith.” The “apologies” of the title allude to the tendency to see a playwright’s telling of a Black experience as “the” Black experience. The five persons we see before us are actually speaking Lynett’s words; so, being Black is the perspective of a young queer African-Latinx woman from California who lives in Arkansas?

To the credit of the writer, as well as McCray and the cast, rather than being confusing – even when going totally meta – this darkly comic journey is entertaining and thought-provoking. There’s even an alternative-history game show.

Scenic Designer Bernie Killian provides an interesting stage for an immersive “in the round” experience. Seating is properly spaced around the stage, however, there is no tent or awning so sunscreen and/or hats are recommended, especially during afternoon performances.

One weekend remains of this World Premiere production, May 28-30, at Fonseca Theatre, 2508 W. Michigan, west of downtown Indianapolis. Tickets and information at fonsecatheatre.org.

TOTS hosts a play for the masses (literally)

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By John Lyle Belden

“Well, of all things!” A 1959 French play by a celebrated Romanian absurdist about the destructive but seductive effects of mass conformity finds resonance in Indianapolis, U.S.A., in 2017.

No Holds Bard and Catalyst Repertory present Eugene Ionesco’s “Rhinoceros” on the Second Stage of Theatre on the Square through Aug. 13. The play is set in a near future in which most animals are extinct and most color is gone – frowned upon, even – but the people deal with it in a very orderly black-and-white world in which logic can be argued to the point that facts can mean anything.

Slovenly, drunken Berenger (Zachariah Stonerock) doesn’t fit in. And worse, he has gotten into an argument with his only friend, proud, self-sure Jean (Tristan Ross). But suddenly, a rhinoceros comes charging up the street. Did everyone see what they just saw? Of course not. There are no zoos, there are no circuses, there are no rhinoceroses. Then, a rhinoceros comes charging down the street in the other direction. Thus the question becomes: Is it the same rhinoceros? And are one or both African or Asian? This latter point, and the counting of horns, naturally becomes the most vital issue.

The next day, Berenger comes in late to work, but Daisy (Abbie Wright), who he is sweet on, covers for him with the boss, Mr. Papillon (Josh Ramsey), who, in turn, is upset with Duduard (Tim Fox) and Botard (John Mortell) not getting to work as they argue whether the rhinoceros sighting was real. Duduard has seen the beasts and is more accepting of events; while Botard did not, assumes its a hoax, and if anything did happen, it was part of a grand conspiracy by dark forces. Then Mrs. Beof (Denise Jaeckel) arrives, saying she can’t find her husband, and she’s being pursued by a rhino – when the animal destroys part of the building, she discovers the beast is her husband, somehow transformed.

After this, nearly everyone starts changing into rhinoceroses. As you do.

Stonerock garners our sympathies as the individualist everyman – misunderstood, put down and unsure of what he wants and how to get it. He, and we through him, are never on solid ground as the more sober he gets, the more mad the world becomes.

His castmates deal well with the play’s broadly-drawn characters. Wright embodies the contradicting impulses of dependence and independence women have dealt with in the nearly 50 years of this play’s existence, showing her own strength regardless. Fox is appropriately glib, Mortell brightly brusque. Jaeckel throws herself into her role. Ross, who also directs, takes charge on stage as well; and Ramsey is sharp as ever, including his turn as a “professional logician” who tortures language into submission. The cast is ably rounded out by David Mosedale and Sarah Holland Froehlke – who extracts a lot of laughs from a dead cat.

The script’s length, adapted from three acts to two, and pacing can drag at times, but it’s all worth seeing the eventual “rhinoceros parade.” While this a comedy, with plenty of hilarious situations and comic turns of phrase, beneath the mirth is the hint of something strong and violent that can trample to ruin anything in its path.

Good thing it’s only a play, eh?

Join the herd at TOTS, 627 Massachusetts Ave., call 317-685-8687 or get info and tickets at tots.org/rhinoceros/.

It’s like this thing that never happened, totally happened, at Mud Creek

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By John Lyle Belden

We know two things for certain: First, Albert Einstein and Pablo Picasso were alive and in Europe during the first years of the 20th century, and second, comic legend Steve Martin has an exceptional wit and entertaining flair for the absurd.

These things considered, it was inevitable – in a Martinesque world much like our own – that Einstein would meet “Picasso at the Lapin Agile,” in the play by Mr. Martin now on stage at Mud Creek Players through May 6.

When you arrive at the old barn – which hasn’t seen livestock in ages, but they call it that anyway – at 9740 E. 86th St., Indy, you will receive a program, and looking within, you will notice two things: First, that the director, Kelly Keller, is quite handsome. Perhaps it is Photoshop, perhaps moisturizer. Second, you will see the characters listed in order of appearance. This is important, as characters must appear in order for a play to happen. They should also arrive in order, but note that this is Paris and people like Einstein are forever altering history.

You will also notice the barman, barmaid, a local drunk who really should get his prostate checked and others engaged in interesting clever conversations on art and genius. Perhaps this is a European thing. And Picasso does show up, redeeming the apparent premise of the play, to learn the most important aspect of his career – that he should sign his drawings.

We also meet the greatest inventive mind of the 20th century, Charles Davernow Schmendiman. This alone should have you calling the box office.

By this point in the review you should notice two things: First, that I do like doing that “two things” thing, and second, that I’m not very good at being consistent.

I must warn you that when this comic drama of a dramatic comedy concludes, you will discover that the ladies and gentlemen are not who they have presented themselves to be. Einstein turns out to be Justin Lyon, a local actor, though he is quite convincing, and even shows us “the hair.” Likewise, Picasso was nicely impersonated by Brad Root, who, it turns out, does not have a single piece hanging in the Louvre. Zach Haloski should be commended for his striking resemblance to Schmendiman. We are also cleverly deceived by Eric Matter, Collin Moore, Monya Wolf, Savannah Jay, Robert C. Boston Jr., Susan Hill and Lexi Odle. It would be best not to mention that Brock Francis appears in this production, as it is a surprise. Fortunately, despite this allegedly being a barn, there were no pitchforks or torches, so the audience was very forgiving of the illusion portrayed on the stage – on the contrary, they quite enjoyed it.

For a pleasant evening of highly meaningful nonsense, call 317-290-5343 or visit www.mudcreekplayers.org.