Their movement allows them to take up all the space, filling the stage all the way to the frame.
We share our sweat, our humidity, our heat. We weather it, as Kelly does inside the box.
What was I doing? Why was I here? What had I hoped to achieve from this? So many people I didn’t know! Communal living having its obvious benefits, but not that easy to suddenly just find one’s self there in the thick of it.
Hammel draws us in to her experience, while granting us a bit of separation from the material itself (which is unrelentingly bleak, flirting with misogyny, although its view of the male specimen isn’t without contempt either).
This is Peter Pan set in a dystopian futureland, the music acting as a remnant of a memory of a time when feeling was more possible, when childhood was more innocent; before we found ourselves up against a neon wall, staring out at the void, attempting to determine if we’ve (finally, like Peter did when he flew back one night only to find the window closed against him) reached a point of no return.
How do you deconstruct a deconstruction?
There is a dizzying effect to the realization / acknowledgement of one’s cringe-worthy actions as white person to date, and Aloha Aloha gives that kaleidoscopic wheel quite the healthy spin.
there’s never enough time and we’re always reaching back, trying to remember what it felt like to crack wide open for the first time.
The evening resembles what one might imagine how a Moth Storytelling Hour might play out if it were held at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.
Responding to CUTE ACTIVIST at the Bushwick Starr: “Does this play want me to ‘like’ it or to ‘crying face’ it?”
Sobelle’s work relies heavily on what one might describe as “sleight-of-staging,” which I’ll posit here is a cross between what a magician does with objects (cards and the like) and what a director does with design and blocking.
Parson slowly and deftly reverses the lens, edging away from the endlessly verbal Sam and leaving us with only Bess.