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Dispatches from the 2010 Minnesota Fringe (part two)

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Twin Cities Performance Art Examiner

 
Shifting into the weekday performances of the 2010 Minnesota Fringe Festival, it was gratifying to discover that capacity audiences were continuing to fill the venues. Despite the economic downturn of recent years, it’s clear that the Fringe Fest remains a much anticipated event for our Twin Cities arts community – both participants and patrons. In fact, the energized atmosphere of the crowd continues to be one of the festival’s signature highlights. Just five minutes of strolling through Rarig Auditorium, for example, will yield an almanac of overheard critiques. Such word-of-mouth remains a critical aspect of the Fringe, transforming otherwise overlooked productions into event standouts. Two of this article’s featured shows, in fact, were brought to my attention while standing in line for another production. Let’s see how it all panned out:
 
 

Destroyer of Dreams 
presented by Entropy Productions
Give Entropy Productions credit for a memorably twisted take on the archetypical hero's journey in The Destroyer of Dreams (The Requiem Part 2). As in traditional hero narratives, the story follows its protagonist on a seemingly impossible quest. Unlike other such tales, however, the hero in this particular story just happens to be a brazenly unrepentant serial killer. Much of the promise of this clever premise, unfortunately, is undone by weaknesses in director/writer Matthew Kelly's script. Particularly problematic is the overly familiar nature of the roles, resulting in stock interpretations of the brooding killer, the tarnished priest, and even a cartoonishly sinister devil that growls foreboding bits of biblical Revelation before breaking into maniacal cackling. Playing the demonic role, Matthew Kelly delights in chewing the scenery, stalking the stage with over-the-top menace. Though Kelly’s relish for evil borders on camp, his performance is at least energetic, an attribute not be shared by Megan Brophy (in an underdeveloped role as the killer’s unsuspecting girlfriend) and Gerald Fitzpatrick (playing the familiar caricature of a fallen priest). Brophy and Fitzpatrick display pronounced hesitancy in their roles, resulting in consistently flat deliveries. William Lies fares better in the lead, but is undermined by a predictability that squanders any tension from the conclusion. The Destroyer of Dreams is not without merit. The production does conjure a foreboding atmospheric, primarily through an effectively subdued lighting and sound design. And while the moral relativism gets set aside too early, there’s enough abstract ideas to suggest the playwright capable of intriguing future works. Unfortunately The Destroyer of Dreams is all too eager to exchange ambiguity for familiarity, resulting in a production that might explore life’s darkest corners, but fails to reveal anything but the expected.    
 

My Mother Told Me
presented by Sara Stevenson Scrimshaw
Blending spoken word storytelling with interpretive dance can be a tricky art. The distinctive expressiveness of both forms, utterly spellbinding when wielded by a skilled performer, can be completely dashed by contrasting forms. Or you can get the sublime alchemy of My Mother Told Me. Renowned storyteller phillip andrew bennett low spins an original tale of a young man’s journey into the unknown. Low’s propulsive cadence and richly detailed narrative command attention, but the material is truly lifted by the synchronous movements of dancers Jill Murphy, Danielle Robinson-Prater, and the performer who first envisioned the project, Sara Stevenson Scrimshaw. A lustrous fluidity follows the mesmerizing trio as they flow with reflective grace, slide into solo turns, and drift back into interlocking patterns. The versatile choreography of Danielle Robinson-Prater is often breathtaking, underscoring low’s narrative with emphatic passion. For an inspired example of how two seemingly contrasting forms can be used to elevate a work, look no further than this exceptional production.  
 

See You Next Tuesday
The term “romantic comedy” has a well-deserved reputation for offering little more than formulaic retreads of familiar clichés featuring interchangeable stock characters whose amorous entanglements bear little resemblance to reality. Considering such negative connotations, labeling Walking Shadow Theatre Company’s exceptionally witty See You Next Tuesday a romantic comedy feels like a form of slander. Fear not, for while See You Next Tuesday delights in dysfunctional love, nothing about this romance is lazily drawn. Relationships here are as complex and confusing as real life, starting with the abrasive break-up that opens the storyline and gives way to bittersweet recollections of a couple’s time together. The script by Steve Moulds wastes no time in establishing a balance between quirky one-liners and heartfelt sentiment while the gifted young cast of Sid Solomon, Christine Weber, Shad Cooper, and Leigha Horton each realize the full potential of their roles. Weber in particular must be applauded for lending a touch of vulnerability to a role that, in less capable hands, could have flattened into the overly familiar form of an intellectually combative and casually condescending girlfriend. Instead Weber subtly suggests a deeper insecurity that lends credence towards the eventual breakup. In this context, See You Next Tuesday’s only significant shortcoming - abridging the relationship’s arc to fit a one-hour runtime – is especially pronounced. What we do see of the relationship is telling; their chance first encounter, the nervous exchange of gifts, and a hilariously uncomfortable dinner with in-laws, but these scenes fall short of expressing their emotional bond – making it harder to appreciate the devastation when that bond is broken. That slight criticism aside, See You Next Tuesday breaks the mold for romantic comedies, establishing a work of singular invention and cracking jokes all the while. 
 

Table 12
Anyone that’s ever been on the peripheral edge of a wedding guest list will relate to the comically absurd premise behind Kindred Ginger’s Table 12: A Play at a Wedding. Insightfully written by Ruth Virkus, Table 12 exiles a mismatched group of misfit wedding guests to a remote table on the outskirts of a reception hall. Unable to interact (or interfere) with the wedding party or the more valued guests, the occupants of Table 12 are left to amuse, abuse, and psychoanalyze one another. Virkus displays a knack for writing deceptively deep characters whose surface eccentricities cover relatable lives; which is not to say that those surface eccentricities aren’t mined for maximum comic value. A refreshingly screwball irreverence runs throughout the work, from the obsessive ex-boyfriend who adapts bombastic power ballads after his own melodramatic heartache to the ultra-religious fundamentalists with a passion for gourd sculpture and investment opportunities. The entire cast (featuring Benjamin Layne, Katie Starks, Rachel Flynn, Neil Matthew Schneider, Scot Moore, Kendra Ryan, Jeremy Motz, and Michael Sung Ho) sparks an infectious energy with collectively charged performances. Bring on the Theatre in the Round stage makes this chemistry especially apparent, allowing audiences to witness each character’s reaction to progressively outlandish developments. And while a confined setting always runs the risk of lagging momentum, Director Crystal G. Schneider keeps the quips flying fast enough to overcome any potential plot drag. Being the expendable guest should always be so much fun.
 
For more info: 
The Destroyer of Dreams (The Requiem Part 2) – presented by Entropy Productions
My Mother Told Me – presented by Sara Stevenson Scrimshaw
 
 
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, Twin Cities Performance Art Examiner

As likely to be found watching dive bar bands as viewing lofty theatrical productions, freelance author/rapscallion Brad Richason intrepidly explores the highs and lows of Twin Cities culture.

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