Playwright: John Pierson and company
At: The Neo-Futurists, 5133 N. Ashland. Tickets: 773-275-5255; www.neofuturists.org; $15. Runs through: Oct. 22
The Neo-Futurists long have been a go-to destination for inventive theater, and their latest world premiere is no exception. Viewed at a late rehearsal at which revisions still were being made, it was somewhat chaotic but demonstrated a delightful assortment of theatrical devices and techniques. Chalk & Saltwater: The Ladder Project incorporates elements of improvisation, live music, direct narration, living newspaper, docu-drama, randomness, video projections, a play-within-a-play and stories-within-the-story. It's not inaccurate to call it a mélange, collage or kaleidoscope.
The wide-ranging and wild meta-theatrics of the work are in the service of an appropriately odd-ball story: that of one of the greatest flops in American theater history, a dreadfully-reviewed 1926 costume epic about reincarnation called The Ladder, which nonetheless ran on Broadway for two years because its producer saw it as part of his personal spiritual vision. That producer, Edgar B. Davis, was a capable nutcase who made and lost fortunes in rubber and oil, consulted with psychic Edgar B. Cayce and believed God called him to become President. The Ladder was part of the plan, and so he poured into the showand lostthe 2011 equivalent of $20 million.
I don't know if this bizarre tale will have wide appeal, although theater folk should find it a blast as its narrative features such figures as actor and producer Antoinette Perry (after whom the Tony Awards are named), critic Brooks Atkinson and journalist and personality Alexander Woollcott among others. It also incorporates scenes from The Ladder itself, some of which never have been seen publicly, and which will vary from night to night.
What is missing, however, is a clear reason why, as in "Why tell this story?" It smacks of a fascinating obsession director John Pierson stumbled upon while initially on his way to something else. The show is framed as an investigation of failure, but the framing device doesn't seem inherent in the topic, which seems more odd than instructive.
Pierson and cohorts would be more successful to position the work as a patchwork exploration of the American character at the beginning of what is now called The American Century, with outsized personalities molded by ambition, obsession, spiritualism and the conflicting forces of waning Victorianism and rising modernism. Hey, it's all there anyway, and in a rather entertaining harlequinade although not one in which you will focus upon, or sympathize with, anyone in particular. Consider it an American carnival and it could be your barrel of oil.
The show represents a vast amount of honest-to-God research and investigation on the part of Pierson (who's idea it was originally) and his seven-person cast over an 18-month period. American theater historians should note and thank them for this authoritative work.