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cyranoFirstly, I'd like to state that I feel lame posting a review of a show that nobody else will get to see, since the only night that Danny and the Deep Blue Sea was scheduled to be performed that I was not scheduled to be at work was closing night. So there are no further performances to encourage people to attend.
But I have never let feeling lame stop me from making an LJ post, and perhaps I have embraced the inherent lameness of making LJ posts.
As a side note, the Pear Street Theater wins the award for 'House that Least Wants an Audience In It'. Pear Street is that little three-block run where you'd turn left instead of turning right to go to the Shoreline Cinema. It's full of clusters of offices, industrial and computer, clumped around parking lots. At the very end of this street, there is a darkened corner next to the basketball hoop over the fence of red reflectors that politely say 'please do not crash into the trailer park on the other side of me'. In this darkened corner, if you happen to pull up next to it and shine your headlamps on it, is a wooden signboard upon which is tacked an eight by eleven piece of paper saying "<------- Pear Street Theater". And, indeed, down the alleyway is a blacked windowfront framed in christmas lights which is probably the most theater-like thing one would find there. And the friendly ticket officer, who happens to also be the director, is happy to tell you that yes, indeed, this is the place.
To add to the surreal experience, when you walk into the house you will discover half of the cast already on stage an arm's reach away, sullenly picking through a bowl of pretzels. As a hyperpolite theatergoer, you will stumble to a seat and attempt to avoid making eye contact to help her (for half the cast of a two character show is only the lovely Allison Asher) from being drawn out of character.
I admit, in the first act I thought to myself "Oh god. This is one of those shows where you accept the theater convention that people just come out and inappropriately share their deepest thoughts shames and secrets sometimes so that the audience knows they have depth." But no, these people are just that broken and desperate for attention, for intimacy, that they awkwardly spew forth the contents of their inner landscape in bolts and jerks.
The first act is about establishing that intimacy, making that connection with somebody who's just as broken but in as uncomplementary a fashion as possible. This guarantees that the second act, where they pretend that they have that intimacy and that they're normal and happy is as trainwreckful as possible as you wait for the third act, where....
Hunh. You think that maybe they have a chance to make it work. Not a good chance. And it's not going to be pretty, whether they make it work or not. But you're not just shaking your head and averting your gaze because you actually hope they can make something vaguely functional out of it. There's shouting, and there's fighting, and there's cursing, but there's no actual trainwreck and there's enough honesty and enough wanting, wanting to not be alone, that you think there's potential.
The house was very small, which meant that any insincerity on the cast's part is pretty immediately obvious so punches can't really be pulled. I expect this was a very tiring show to do. And it reminded me of why I was involved in theater; I wanted to ask if I could help strike, just to pretend that I was involved again.
For those who are interested, Allison is preparing to direct "Pear Slices", a series of one acts that I assume is another collaboration between her Red Lantern Theater group and the Pear Street group. To whom I would highly recommend getting a sign of some sort for the front door and a light for the board by the street.
But I have never let feeling lame stop me from making an LJ post, and perhaps I have embraced the inherent lameness of making LJ posts.
As a side note, the Pear Street Theater wins the award for 'House that Least Wants an Audience In It'. Pear Street is that little three-block run where you'd turn left instead of turning right to go to the Shoreline Cinema. It's full of clusters of offices, industrial and computer, clumped around parking lots. At the very end of this street, there is a darkened corner next to the basketball hoop over the fence of red reflectors that politely say 'please do not crash into the trailer park on the other side of me'. In this darkened corner, if you happen to pull up next to it and shine your headlamps on it, is a wooden signboard upon which is tacked an eight by eleven piece of paper saying "<------- Pear Street Theater". And, indeed, down the alleyway is a blacked windowfront framed in christmas lights which is probably the most theater-like thing one would find there. And the friendly ticket officer, who happens to also be the director, is happy to tell you that yes, indeed, this is the place.
To add to the surreal experience, when you walk into the house you will discover half of the cast already on stage an arm's reach away, sullenly picking through a bowl of pretzels. As a hyperpolite theatergoer, you will stumble to a seat and attempt to avoid making eye contact to help her (for half the cast of a two character show is only the lovely Allison Asher) from being drawn out of character.
I admit, in the first act I thought to myself "Oh god. This is one of those shows where you accept the theater convention that people just come out and inappropriately share their deepest thoughts shames and secrets sometimes so that the audience knows they have depth." But no, these people are just that broken and desperate for attention, for intimacy, that they awkwardly spew forth the contents of their inner landscape in bolts and jerks.
The first act is about establishing that intimacy, making that connection with somebody who's just as broken but in as uncomplementary a fashion as possible. This guarantees that the second act, where they pretend that they have that intimacy and that they're normal and happy is as trainwreckful as possible as you wait for the third act, where....
Hunh. You think that maybe they have a chance to make it work. Not a good chance. And it's not going to be pretty, whether they make it work or not. But you're not just shaking your head and averting your gaze because you actually hope they can make something vaguely functional out of it. There's shouting, and there's fighting, and there's cursing, but there's no actual trainwreck and there's enough honesty and enough wanting, wanting to not be alone, that you think there's potential.
The house was very small, which meant that any insincerity on the cast's part is pretty immediately obvious so punches can't really be pulled. I expect this was a very tiring show to do. And it reminded me of why I was involved in theater; I wanted to ask if I could help strike, just to pretend that I was involved again.
For those who are interested, Allison is preparing to direct "Pear Slices", a series of one acts that I assume is another collaboration between her Red Lantern Theater group and the Pear Street group. To whom I would highly recommend getting a sign of some sort for the front door and a light for the board by the street.