There’s bad theatre – incompetent self-indulgence by egomaniacal dullards. Then there’s the vast stretch of middling work – a nice-enough evening, but you wonder whether you should have spent the ticket money on a nice dinner or concert instead. Good theatre pleases.

Then there’s Buntport, better than good by an order of magnitude.

The troupe is unique – a sextet that has collaboratively created a string of innovative and entertaining theatrical works since the beginning of its Denver residency a little over a year ago. Its newest piece, “The Odyssey: A Walking Tour,” is not only a fun, perceptive treat, but a revolutionary (for this area) experience that blows away tired conceptions of what theatre should be.

photo by Sandra H. Elkind

The journey begins in Buntport’s lobby, which is festooned with a set of jokey, lame “exhibits.” This panjandrum of objects, which all look to be filched from dumpsters, are paired with squares of deadpan-funny explanatory text, a hilarious parody of museums’ insufferably condescending, isn’t this-significant presentational style. A scrap of dirty cloth nailed to the wall is accompanied as follows: “Could it be an ancient scrap of Odysseus’ toga or sail? Well, it could be…. we find labels to be limiting and unproductive.”

The parody extends to the tour’s introduction. Each audience member is issued a set of headphones and randomly assigned to one of two nauseatingly chipper guides, played by Hannah Duggan (“Vicki!”) and Brian Colonna (Todd!”). They, their fellow Buntportians (Erik Edborg, Erin Rollman, SamAnTha Schmitz, and Matt Petraglia) and the rest of the cast lip-sync their performances to the tape that plays over the ‘phones, which is itself a hilarious, multilayered audio experience, thanks in large part to the efforts of Buntport’s technical wizard Petraglia.

The gee-whiz kids Vicki and Todd welcome us to Odysseyland, outlining the tour’s rules and flogging the wonders to come in a deft send-up of corny themeparkspeak. Curtains are parted and we are introduced to our hero Odysseus, a toga-clad mannequin who speaks in a flat, synthesized voice. Then the tour groups are off, weaving their ways through a maze of curtain-divided spaces, each set up to dramatize an episode from Odysseus’ epic decade-long journey home.

The two tours differ from each other, and each clocks in at a little under an hour (there’s a discount for those who take both tours). The wild, irreverent wit that Buntport spouts, along with their inventive and fully integrated methods of realizing their comic visions, puts them head and shoulders above the rest. These techniques are nothing new, but no one is as bold as Buntport in putting them to work in order to create a web of interactive experiences that literally gets the audience off its ass and into the story. “Odyssey” is cultural big game, and you need to break out your entire arsenal of weapons in order to bag it.

For example: Odysseus’ raid on the Cicones is a rockin’ puppet diorama. The Laestrygonians attack the hapless (and somewhat out-of-sync) crew with Nerf boulders. With the aid of artfully placed television monitors, the Cyclops makes a horrifying appearance. Lotus-Eaters are represented by a schlocky hypnotist, and a pissy, bad-boy Poseidon makes his entrance behind the wheel of a sports car. Not many groups will gleefully bind you to a mast and squirt you with sea foam in mid performance – Buntport does.

Surprisingly, there’s a knowing moment of pathos at the end, in which the ancient gods are revealed as little more than petulant children, and the evening itself is leavened by a subtle undercurrent of seriousness. A large part of Buntport’s beauty is that they pull rich meaning out of their material by focusing on the fun of it, instead of pretentiously stalking significance and profundity.

There’s a reason why they call it a “play,” and Buntport hasn’t forgotten it. That refreshing, inclusive attitude is light years ahead of the pack. This “Odyssey” should amuse, delight and inspire all who participate in it. By all means, strap on your gear and get walking.

-Brad Weismann, October 8, 2002, Colorado Daily