Playwrights: Greg Allen and Donovan Sherman
At: Neo-Futurarium, 5153 N. Ashland
Phone: ( 773 ) 275-5255; $15
Runs through: March 11
BY RICK REED
There's a lot of great information contained in A Child's History of Bombing, a performance piece by Greg Allen and Donovan Sherman. Fascinating stuff about the development of atomic power ( and subsequently, the atomic bomb ) and the role we Americans played in developing weapons of mass destruction dating from World War II and moving forward to the war in Iraq. And there's a lot of stuff that makes you think about war and peace; race relations; military strategy; and man's hunger for dominance and, sometimes, killing.
Yet, A Child's History of Bombing never really ( you'll pardon the expression ) catches fire. Unlike other outings by the Neo-Futurists, this show lacks a lot of things: continuity, balance and, most of all, drama. For all its insight and historical background, it's a colossal bore. Boring is not a word I've associated in the past with the talented and edgy folks at the Neo-Futurarium. They've practically created their own brand of theater which, with varying degrees of success, never fails to engage and provoke us.
But this historical look into the development of instruments of war seems to have been created to enlighten, with absolutely no thought given to entertainment. Not that good theater always has to entertain ( good Lord, no ) , but good theater does engage us, even if the fare is depressing or disturbing. For all its tales about fire bombings in Tokyo; still photos of Nagasaki and Hiroshima; death tolls in Vietnam; and so on, we should have a show that really packs a wallop. A Child's History of Bombing registers barely a whimper, leaving you exiting the theater with a so-what kind of shrug.
The idea of presenting a short history of twentieth century warfare through the perspective of a child ( as the press materials stated ) seems like a good one. But the connections to children made are broad at best and tenuous at their weakest. The show is simply mistitled. It should have been called something like 'A Lecture on the History of Bombing.' Most of the show is just that: lecture … like being in a history class with two kind of offbeat, but nonetheless droning, teachers. To break up the monotony, we have video clips of Allen's uncle, who actually worked on the Manhattan project. His views are interesting in terms of pairing the historical with the personal, but come on, staring at a talking head on a TV screen does not make for compelling theater. Neither does reciting historical accounts, even if done at a loud volume or by candlelight.
The only flicker of excitement in this show comes when Allan brings an audience member on stage for an impromptu interview about the horrors of violence. This works because it's the only time there's some human interaction ( as opposed to being lectured to ) as well as some improvisation and surprise.
Obviously, the intentions here were good. But imagination and innovation got lost somewhere in the journey from conception to execution.