12th Night of the Living Dead

What happens when you cross Shakespeare's Twelfth Night with George Romero's Night of the Living Dead? You get the perfect Halloween treat: a zombified Shakespearean comedy that is a well-balanced mixture of clever, disgusting and hilarious.

Photo by Tony KnightHawk

Reviewed by Ilena George

The La Tea Theater, which houses 12th Night of the Living Dead, forever won my admiration earlier this year as the venue for Point Break Live!, a production based on the Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swazye film about an FBI agent who goes undercover to infiltrate a gang of bank-robbing surfers. The show involved a lot of audience participation, from soaking the first two rows, to holding them up in a “bank robbery” to actually using a member of the audience each night to play Keanu Reeves’ part. 12th Night has a similar appeal: The show is playful, a little ridiculous and completely entertaining.

Although the space lends itself to productions that have an informal feel to them, that’s not to say that the production is poorly put together. Quite the opposite is true. As a whole, 12th Night of the Living Dead melds together Shakespearean and modern references in several entertaining and smart ways. Lillian Rhiger’s costumes mix elements from modern clothing with period dress: The opening scene features Orsino and one of his musicians dressed in bathing suits over white stockings, while also sporting ruffs. The men wear modern suit pants modified to become trunk hose. Even Feste, who is a long-haired, round sunglasses-wearing free spirit in this production, has his jeans hemmed up to the thigh.

Surprisingly, and satisfyingly, the zombie trope is completely apropos for the Twelfth Night story: not only does much of the dialogue readily adapt itself to a more horrific situation (“What kind of a man is he?” asks Olivia, referring to the zombified Viola/Cesario. “He is of…mankind,” replies Malvolio.), but turning the characters into ravenous, cannibalistic zombies also perfectly illustrates the complete self-absorption of all the lovers in the play.

The show stays true to Shakespeare’s dialogue. However, since the undead are rather reticent, the conversations get more and more one-sided as more and more characters become zombies. But many of the characters are so caught up in themselves that they are utterly unable to see the terrible reality right in front of them. Duke Orsinio’s solipsism is especially hilarious; he forms a close bond with Viola/Cesario, thinking “he” is a willing audience to his (Orsinio’s) constant ramblings on life and love, never realizing the obvious—that “Cesario” is a woman and, at least in this particular production, undead.

From Larry Giantonio’s stoner Feste, to zombie Viola (Lindsay Wolf) and her insatiable hunger for human flesh, to Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Benjamin Ellis Fine) and his dead-on comedic timing, to gaunt and severe Malvolio, played by Tom Knutson, the vivid characters are in turn winning, funny and all completely doomed. Although the zombie comedy can start to lose its luster— at times, there is such a thing as too much zombie physical comedy or dribbling blood—the production includes enough gory surprises to keep the material fresh. No pun intended.

12th Night of the Living Dead is a delicious gorefest, including a (literally) visceral death scene near the conclusion and a grand mêlée ending, one that guarantees a bloody good time.

..........................................................................................
12th Night of the Living Dead Adapted by Brian MacInnis Smallwood
Directed by John Hurley
La Tea Theater (107 Suffolk Street, between Rivington and Delancey)
October 25-November 10
Tickets: $18, 1-800-838-3006, www.brownpapertickets.com

Philoktetes

MacArthur Fellow John Jesurun’s interpretation of a classic Greek myth offers a succinct and visually compelling meditation on a long, unwinnable war and the alienation of a disillusioned soldier. The minimalist set and evocative imagery provide a beautiful and dream-like background to the aggressive verbal attacks the characters launch at each other.


Will Badgett, Jason Lew and Louis Cancelmi
Photo by Paula Court

Reviewed by Ilena George

Philoktetes was a Greek general who, while en route to battle the Trojans, was abandoned by his fellow soldiers on an isolated island after being incapacitated by snakebite. However, after ten years of unsuccessful struggle against the Trojans, Odysseus consults an oracle who tells him the only way to win the war is to find Philoktetes and take Hercules’ bow from him. Jesurun’s play begins where the myth ends: Odysseus and Achilles’ son Neoptolemus visit Philoktetes and attempt to enlist his help.

The production has a fluid lyricism, both in its dialogue, which possesses the solemn sonority of scripture (and which, at times, is actually selections from the Bible) and visually as well. Two big screens, one angled down on the wall and the other on the floor, project images of nature—water, the full moon—and more abstract images—colors, sparks and trails of light—which establish both a lulling and uneasy atmosphere. At times, the actors used a camera at the back of the stage to appear in close up and larger-than-life on the wall screen.

Though there is more narrative than action, Philoktetes unfolds with tension of a courtroom drama: The characters coldly interrogate each other while harboring simmering contempt. Jesurun's minimal set and subtle staging heightens the effect of every sharp word or movement. Louis Cancelmi as Philoktetes is especially mesmerizing; his taut and restrained delivery speaks volumes as to the disillusionment that comes with prolonged isolation and the anger stemming from a soldier separated from his war. Will Badgett as a stern and be-suited Odysseus and Jason Lew as Neoptolemus are similarly entrancing.

It is the language of the play that is both the most beautiful and terrible part of the production. The play begins with Philoktetes’ entreaty, “Listen to me,” and it is difficult to disobey. References to gods, goddesses, and mythical creatures are uttered nearly in the same breath as references to modern conveniences (Chinese take-out, room service, etc) and slang. Ranging from repetitive call-and-response exchanges to visceral invectives (“Have another blood and honey sandwich, Odysseus, and contemplate your future under the boot.”), Jesurun’s imagery invokes the grim specter of war and an emphasis on the slow corporeal and metaphysical rot that ensues. This sparse and evocative play is not one to miss.

....................................................................................
Philoktetes by John Jesurun
Directed by John Jesurun
Soho Rep (46 Walker Street)
October 13-28, 7:30 pm
Tickets: $25, www.smarttix.com

Soho Rep 99 cent Sundays

Cheap Seats Alert:

Soho Rep (46 Walker Street) which is currently showing the excellent Philoktetes, has instituted 99 cent Sundays. You guessed it, all tix are 99 cents. Visit www.smarttix.com or the box office.

None of the Above

Jenny Lyn Bader’s None of the Above features a Clueless-esque premise wherein a vapid teenage girl wins the heart of an intellectual older man, but with a higher education twist: A down and out linguistics graduate student takes on the challenge of tutoring an uptown girl toward a perfect score on the SAT. Emerging out of this familiar set-up are Clark (Adam Green) and Jamie (Halley Feiffer), two genuinely endearing characters with a common purpose and clever comedic timing.

Adam Green and Halley Feiffer in None of the Above
Photo by Carol Rosegg

Reviewed by Ilena George

Similar to its bubble-gum pink bedroom setting, the play is wrapped in a sugary sweet candy coating. And while it does at times have that unsatisfying feeling you get when consuming empty calories, the warmth the actors infuse into their characters breaks them out of their usual molds, saving them from becoming either too saccharine or too artificial.

From the absentee professional parents (one of whom is only reachable through the intercom on the wall) and omnipresent maids, to casual sex and drug and alcohol use and ostentatious displays of wealth, there is evidence everywhere of the many clichés applicable to a teenage Manhattanite attending private school. On the flipside of the tutor-tutee relationship, Clark, the tutor, is also introduced as stereotypically uptight: he counts words when people speak, uses five dollar vocabulary and absolutely loves tutoring. But we quickly learn that buttoned-down Clark hides some dark secrets and that Jamie’s claim that “Studying is just not me,” is also just a smokescreen for someone who is much brighter and much kinder than you might expect.

The characters quickly learn how to manipulate each other, coaxing out information in exchange for solving math problems, until Clark spills the beans about the preposterous contract he and Jamie’s father drew up when he agreed to be her tutor. Clark and Jamie realize they could both benefit from her acing the SAT and forge an alliance. From here, the plot turns loopily melodramatic, with the SAT escalating into a matter of life and debt.

But the two leads keep the escalating madcap plot within the realm of what’s emotionally believable. Green’s Clark is obviously charmed by Jamie’s mix of youth and sophistication and Feiffer’s irrepressible Jamie embodies that irrepressible interest many of us felt to find out who are teachers were outside the classroom. Green and Feiffer are both charming and each character’s reluctant fascination with the other keeps the action from getting stale when the play begins reiterating evidence that Jaime’s parents are never around, or that Clark has some serious baggage (from class issues to addictions). Added to the mix are some entertaining asides about the precociousness expected of private school kids, where Jamie periodically and off-handedly throws around esoteric bits of information she was taught at a very young age, including performing Faust in the 4th grade (“I was Gluttony,” Jamie shares wearily.).

The play has its rough patches, including some spots of clunky dialogue (“Clark, do you just think about the SAT all the time so you don’t have to deal with your real problems?”) and not completely believable teenage expressions (“Dumb as a doorbell,” “Cool your cookies”), and if over-the-top plot twists make you squirm, this may not be the bubble to fill in with a Number 2. But for a light-hearted, sometimes polysyllabic diversion, the answer is D: None of the Above.

....................................................................................
None of the Above by Jenny Lyn Bader
Directed by Julie Kramer
Lion Theater (Theater Row, 410 West 42nd Street)
September 25-November 25, Tuesday-Friday at 8pm, Saturday at 2pm and 8pm,
Sunday at 3pm
Tickets: $45, Ticket Central (212) 279-4200 or www.ticketcentral.com
$20 Rush tickets available the day of the performance at the Theater Row Box Office