If you have followed the evolution of Buntport Theater’s collaborative ensemble pieces, all you may recognize in its two mind-expanding new offerings are the faces. That and the familiar feeling of being seduced into unfamiliar worlds.
Buntport never takes the easy way out, nor does it fall back on previous formulas. So simply going along for the ride can be as nerve-wracking for audiences as for the gang of seven who create and perform there. But audiences do so, enthusiastically, because the company has a track record that makes taking the leap of faith asked feel safe.
Leaps of faith are at the core of Buntport’s 16th and 17th creations, the melancholy, fact-based dramas “Realism: The Mythical Brontosaurus,” and the meditative but bloody “Horror: The Transformation,” running in repertory through Dec. 10. The former, more accessible piece follows a young man who has locked himself in his bedroom. The latter, more unsettling tale is a modern take on the farmer who in 1760 listened to voices telling him to kill his family.
Both challenge how it is we come to believe whatever it is we believe to be true. That may mean science, God, evolution, ghosts or even the validity of the love we feel for one another. In the end, we choose the truth that brings us the most comfort. Belief is a leap of faith.
“Realism”
How might it change your perception of reality to learn that scientists have had something wrong all along? Might that cause you to question everything else you have accepted as true? In “Realism,” that’s the plight of Jack, who locks himself safely away after he learns the scientific community has issued a mea culpa: The Brontosaurus never existed. The so-called “nice” dinosaur was discovered and classified in 1879 but later determined to be synonymous with the previously documented Apatosaurus. So in 1974, in a bit of scientific housekeeping, the term “brontosaurus” was formally removed from the scientific record.
Jack, a thoughtful and psychologically fragile young man (Evan Weissman), is now experiencing a profound sense of groundlessness. His isolation has deeply upset his sister Fiona (Erin Rollman), her fiancé, Michael (Brian Colonna) and Jack’s roommate Ben (Erik Edborg), a gay Christian. Far from an absurd comedy, “Realism” is a doleful character study that examines the damage a slight tilt in one person’s axis of reality can have on everyone around him.
There is both a deep sadness and an odd tenderness at the core of “Realism,” Buntport’s first straightforward script. Fiona and Jack share an abusive childhood, and she harbors guilt for fleeing home and leaving him behind. Michael’s homophobia manifests itself against Ben.
This kind of regular acting is new for this extraordinary ensemble – which is why they are trying it now. While Weissman is remarkably natural in the task, the others seem tentative at first. But by the end, Colonna and Edborg have etched complex characterizations, and Rollman emerges as a woman eviscerated in 75 minutes of slow, Beckettesque waiting.
That’s the great irony of “Realism”: This is really pure existentialism, an attempt to portray a convincing illusion of a reality. The play is set on an impressive, two-level house where all the walls have been removed, allowing the audience to see in from both sides. In this story about barriers, the only actual physical barricade is this meager bedroom door. And ultimately, it’s not this door that’s separating these two damaged souls from making a human connection.
“Horror”
The more visually stimulating “Horror” is more recognizable as an experimental Buntport piece. It’s based on the Gothic 1798 novel “Wieland; or The Transformation” by Charles Brockden Brown, generally considered America’s first professional fiction writer. It’s the politely brutal tale of a decent husband and father who is led to destroying his wife and kids by a mysterious agent that may be “ruffian or devil,
black as hell or bright as angels.”
Onstage, the actors all don blackened eyes, as if already dead. Ghosts and memories reveal themselves and, in the coolest twist, the (restored) walls both breathe and bleed. The actors take turns operating puppets representing the two doomed children, both as physical extensions of themselves and later as marionettes. In this story of personal accountability, this is in many ways a puppet show within a puppet show.
Despite its magic, “Horror” is a bit more stilted and likely will be inscrutable to audiences unfamiliar with the source story. Catherine (Rollman) and Colonna (Theodore) are parents who dote on their children and entertain philosophical parlor discussions on skepticism, Socrates, God and reason. But the driving agent here must be the mysterious Carwin (Edborg), who has renounced his birth country and religion. He’s portrayed here as a mere magician and a voice-thrower, not a supernatural force personified capable of driving a man to kill his family. This inevitabile bit of business instead comes along so abruptly it seems more of a tangent than an effective climax.
In this one, backstage wonder Matt Petraglia is the star of the show, navigating more than 100 disturbing sound, light and special-effects cues.
-John Moore, October 28, 2005, Denver Post