Playwright: Brett Neveu
At: A Red Orchid Theatre, 1531 N. Wells
Phone: ( 312 ) 943-8722; $14-$20
Runs through: June 5
For the greater part of our history, Death has lurked everywhere that mortals gather to celebrate the gift of Life. Indeed, it has been argued that ALL human actions arise from the knowledge that our time on this earth is limited, and the Grim Reaper's taxicab may arrive just when the party is at its height. In 2005, however, it's customary to deny this, as if Death were an abberation, inconvenient but avoidable. And so it's understandible that playgoers might leave Brett Neveu's play thinking that Joel, the mysterious visitor carrying the crescent-bladed knife, is an everyday, news-at-five, mentally-unbalanced serial killer.
Joel is a nondescript, vaguely blue-collar, ubiquity on the American landscape. He appears, seemingly from nowhere, on the fringes of lone citizens' purviews. He says little, instead allowing his victims to locate him within a safely identifiable context. After chatting awhile with his prey, he stabs them, delicately, with his transparent dagger and leaves them unconscious. Some protest this treatment, others politely ignore it, most are more curious than frightened. One seems ready to go gently into that good night, and is rewarded for his preparations.
Is Joel the Cosmic Repo Man, come to collect? Or is he a phantom who haunts our dreams, reminding us of tomorrow's uncertainty? Or could he be an allegorical symbol of ( ho-hum ) post-9/11 paranoia? Is he truly a murderer, or simply an instrument of fate? Does Fate exist any more? Joel's choice of targets—self-absorbed individuals whose suspicions isolate them from fellowship, but don't stop them confiding in a stranger willing to listen—offer us few clues.
Under Guy Van Swearingen's direction for this Red Orchid production, Wendi Weber, Cecil Burroughs, Kirsten Fitzgerald, and Douglas Vickers all deliver intense performances—bordering on, but never spilling over into, caricature—to circumvent the potential monotony of Neveu's minimalism, and to provide vivid counterpoint to Lawrence MacGowan's enigmatic Joel ( a far cry from his fussy academic in the recent Permanent Collection ) .
Ultimately, it's up to us to ponder Joel's identity and decide his place in our sanitary modern universe. Nearly a week after seeing 4 Murders, I'm still trying to do so. See how long it takes YOU.