Playwright: Denis Johnson
At: Viaduct Theater, 3111 N. Western Ave.
Phone: ( 773 ) 296-6024; $15
Runs through: April 19
The disappointment in this second of Denis Johnson's Cassandra series is not the absence of holocaust promised by its, uh, incendiary title, but that the fireworks are so generic as to border on parody. ( Upon being confronted by a drawn gun, a visitor declares, 'This is too trailer park for me!' ) Knowing the first play in the trilogy might have given us a stake in the progress of this ill-favored family, but walking into the middle of their troubles leaves us merely bewildered.
Take our locale, for example: we are in the northern California town of Ukiah, at home with three generations of transplanted Texans. Grandma sings Appalachian ballads and clings to that Old-Time Religion, Dad is prone to chronic bouts of introspective contemplation, and youngest grandson Mark has returned to the nest after less than a month in alcohol rehab. Unseen but influential personae include Mark's mothercurrently serving a prison sentence for the 'vehicular homicide' of his baby sister. Also, a brother awaiting trial after a shooting spree, and an invisible but audible dog.
Into this volatile compound bursts long-lost Other Brother Bro, carrying a torch and a grudge, his immediate purpose to prevent his ex-wife remarrying, and long-range goal to exorcise the contagion visited on their household by the infanticide.
But why don't we give a damn? Why do we find ourselves thinking of Beth Henley and Sam Shepardor Erskine Caldwell, J.D. Salinger and William Carlos Williams ( whose poems shape the language of Dad's reveries ) while remaining unmoved by the portrait of all-American agony Johnson invokes? It's not like the actors aren't working up a mighty sweat making these archetypes engaging or, at the least, unsoporificpeppery Ariel Brenner singlehandedly delivers Grandma from stereotype, Steve Walker projects a bearish charm, and Ben Viccellio, a puppyish innocence.
But not even the entrance of Bro's girlfriend tarted up in blue-faced Buddha drag can redeem the emotional alienation. Ultimately, we remember Robert Whitaker's superbly crafted set, Bruce Burdick's likewise cliché-free sound design and Keith Ellis' contortionist turn as a heckling TV set more vividly than we do any of the Cassandra Clan's conflicts.