Playwright: J. Julian Christopher. At: Pride Films and Plays at Mary's Attic, 5446 N. Clark St. Tickets: 1-800-838-3006; www.BrownPaperTickets.com; $15. Runs through: March 10
Lions and tigers and, especially, bears will like this show. Actually, anyone who's ever had issues with body image and intimacy will be able to relate, and that's 100 percent of us, right? It took me years to accept my status as a muscle god who intimidates lesser men even before peeling off my skin-tight T-shirt.
The basic set-up of Man Boobs is familiar. For decades, playwrights as disparate as David Mamet, Terrence McNally and Tennessee Williams have written two-character dramas about romance gone awry, and some of those plays dealt with body image, at least in part. However, J. Julian Christopher makes it the central premise and issue of Man Boobs, with the craftsmanship to keep his 90-minute work moving briskly and keep his characters interesting. It would be good to see one of his larger works.
Christopher's characters, Marty and Spence, already know each other as the play begins; a smart move that allows them to discuss things that wouldn't emerge during a first-time hook-up. They've tricked several times before and are ready to move on to something more meaningful, at least Marty is. Spence, however, who insists on having sex in dark places or with the lights out or with clothing on, isn't so sure. He sees Marty as a manly, virile stereotype ( Marty is a trucker ) who has his pick of men. Spence, a librarian, sees himself as unattractive and jiggle-breasted and can't accept that Marty is attracted to him.
As cast by director David Zak, Marty ( Michael Hampton ) is of similar body type and size as Spence ( Rick Heintz ) , which emphasizes Spence's inability to view himself ( and others ) objectively. The words of the play also might be interpreted to suggest different body types, but Zak's choice makes Spence's neurosis more extreme. Hampton and Heintz handle their characters well and certainly seem comfortable in their own skins, which are of a shape we don't often see shirtless on our stages, especially in gay-themed theater.
Christopher laces his play with references to Charles Bukowski, Kafka, Frankenstein and The Hunchback of Notre Dame, all summoned by the bookish Spence as images of the grotesquery Spence sees himself as being. This all works well. What works less well is Spence's harrowing account of how he was abused and taunted as a teenager by other boys and an especially nasty physical-education teacher, an account that sounds more 1960s than 1990s ( when Spence was a teen ) .
Within the limited confines of Mary's Attic, the physical production is simple but suitable, although the noise from the stairway and street door ( even early in the evening ) is distracting. Hey, hush up! We're doing bare bear drama up here and it isn't half-bad.