Playwrights: See below
At: The Side Studio, 1520 W. Jarvis
Phone: ( 773 ) 973-2150; $15
Runs through: June 26
If you're the kind of person that applauds creative risk taking and appreciates theater that challenges, then a ticket to Barebones and Skin II might be just the, um, well … ticket. This evening of one acts, each by a different playwright, is marked by economy: each 15-minute portrait is painted with a minimalist's hand, with an eye for depth, making each stroke count, and laying each emotion bare. Taken together, these six one acts, subtitled 'The Dangling Conversation' concern themselves with communication, with how words shape our feelings and our experiences, and how they fail us.
The evening opens with The Dancer. Here, playwright Stephen Cone takes only a few moments to create a haunting and high-tension apocalyptic universe. A casting director ( Rob Beisenbach ) shouts out 'Next!' calling a dancer waiting in the wings to audition. Little details emerge: the director wears rags, a baby howls offstage, a mother tries to placate it and shouts to the director that she loves him. We learn they have been infected by an unnamed affliction, brought in by a kitten who was a 'carrier.' We realize slowly that the dancer and director are going through a dance of desperation and that they are probably two of the last people in the world, the others victims of an unnamed plague. It's chilling, and their simple conversation only makes it more chilling and heartrending.
Next is Salt Ink by Chris Kelley, an odd journey into a kind of police state headed up by sadistic cowled figures who call to mind the Vatican and the religious right. With elements of Big Brother and sado-masochism thrown in, this is the least effective of the sextet, self-conscious and purposefully obtuse ( the language is a curious mixture of formal dialect mixed with colloquialisms like 'shut up' and 'yoo hoo' ) .
The third piece gets us back on track. Bad Language, by Robert Fieldsteel, is a dense, rich monologue performed by the absolutely natural and charming J. Kingsford Goode. Here is a woman who has been haunted all her life by words, fearful and awed of their power, especially the sexual power of certain epithets that she can't bring herself to utter. Funny and provocative, the writing and acting here meld to become an intimate and moving portrait of a woman who is as afraid of her own sexuality as she is of being abandoned.
Fourth, No Uncertain Words, by Bob Wilson, is a cutting, amusing riff on 'creative differences' between actors and playwrights/directors and the tug of war between the two in bringing what they consider 'real' to the stage.
Next is A Lovely Picture, by Hank Bunker, a haunting piece with two characters on a bridge: a young film school graduate ( Alex Balestrieri ) with a camera attempts to wake 'people up to what's happening on their streets.' His conversation with a has-been Hollywood mogul ( Jack McCabe ) is revealing. Excellent performances and inspired direction from Jimmy McDermott make this piece a stand out.
We end the evening on a dark note with Pink Skin, Simon Levy's claustrophobic portrait of the last moments of a disturbed genius and his all-too-normal girlfriend in a basement. Adam Webster directed this adept portrait of the abyss that can exist between unappreciated genius and the rest of the world, who can be satisfied with the pleasures they glean from TV. It's enough to drive a guy to suicide.
