LINCOLN PARK: Buntport Theater has been presenting brilliantly clever original productions for over 16 years, with their earlier works focused more on comedy, and more recent work somewhat darker and more serious, but still containing a comic thread. Their latest production, Edgar Allan Poe Is Dead, and So Is My Cat, returns to their funny roots, but still manages to make the audience think about the nature of life, and especially what it takes to make life meaningful.

Edgar Allan Poe Is Dead, and So Is My Cat starts with the burial of a cat (though there is some question of whether it is a funeral, or even an event, and whether there will be snacks available). We met That One Guy (that is the way the character is identified in the program), who is obsessed with Edgar Allan Poe. He emulates Poe, does a podcast on everything Poe (which he calls a “Poedcast”), and emulates Poe in every way possible, including eating at Boston Market, because Boston is where Poe was born. He buys a suit at thrift store, so he can wear “another man’s suit,” just as Poe apparently did a few days before he died. This is all incredibly annoying to his sister, whose cat has just died. When (spoiler alert) the discarded suit comes to life, things get really interesting.

As is always the case, the five members of Buntport jointly wrote, directed, designed, and deliver the show. It is full of many funny little bits that constantly pop up, but all are part of story that is engaging, with twists and turns that are funny at a deeper level as well as surprisingly thoughtful and interesting. The staging is fairly simple and direct, with much of the action in the yard of a house that curiously has no doors. The show also includes effective use of awkward silences that add a strange sort of tension to the humor.

The cast (the onstage members of Buntport) brings to life fascinating yet absurd characters. Brian Colonna is That One Guy, over the top in his obsession with Poe, unable to conceive how those around him may not hold the poet with the same reverence he does. Hannah Duggan is His Sister, almost constantly annoyed with him, in a very natural, sisterly way. Duggan also opens up nicely as the show progresses, but never loses that caustic “sisterness.” Erik Edborg is the congenial His Best Friend, jealous when Colonna’s attention goes elsewhere. Erin Rollman is paradoxically the most reasonable of the characters as Burt, the suit, expressive and articulate.

The set, lighting, and costumes, designed by the 4 cast members listed above and SamAnTha Schmitz, are integrated into the production well. The set, a simple brick wall, enables some extra silliness, having no normal doors, but with functioning windows. The costumes add some nice bits of humor, and the lighting is well controlled and illuminates well.

Buntport always delivers comedy with meaning, and Edgar Allan Poe Is Dead, and So Is My Cat is no exception. This show does focus more on the comedy (by design), but they can’t help themselves; there is also some important, and dare I say profound stuff here about relationships, about art and its creation, and about the importance of making life notable. By inserting the absurd into an otherwise normal world, it makes the normal absurd, allowing the characters to become uncommon. But mostly, it is just really funny.

If You Go…

Edgar Allan Poe Is Dead, and So Is My Cat runs through November 18 at Buntport Theater, 717 Lipan. Performances are Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at 8:00 pm and Sundays at 3:00 pm, with an extra “pay-what-you-can” performance on Monday, November 6. Tickets are only $18 in advance, $20 at the door, with a $3 discount for students and seniors. For information and reservations call 720-946-1388 or visit www.buntport.com. Buntport continues their popular comic Great Debate series on the third Tuesday of each month (with BuntportTED Talks occasional replacing it), along with the wonderful ongoing all-ages pirate/myth series Siren Song, on the second Saturday of each month. Buntport’s next original show (their 46^th) will open in early 2018, and they will be bringing back My Quest to Gallantly Recapture the Past in the spring.

Craig Williamson, November 2, 2017, North Denver Tribune

LINCOLN PARK — Buntport Theater is unconventional. And with their new production, Crud, a story created using all the things found in an abandoned storage locker, they have moved even further toward the unorthodox. This is no mere attempt to reconstruct the past of this odd collection of stuff, it is something new, literally creating characters and the story from crud. It is a story of memory, of things, and of identity.

The play, created by the Buntport five, SamAnTha Schmitz, Erin Rollman, Erik Edborg, Hannah Duggan, and Brian Colonna, is surreal. Things seem to be real, with jelly toast, antlers, dolls (some in pieces), and shoes, just to name a tiny percentage of the featured crud. And there is a live video feed, constantly providing surveillance, adding an artificial layer of apparent reality. But by focusing on the stuff, the things, the possessions, and always worrying about if someone might be taking them, three of the characters ironically become completely blind to their possessions disappearing. It makes no sense as I describe it, but it seemed to make sense as I watched it on stage.  I think it did, anyway.

Two characters are (sort-of) visible onstage as the house opens and the audience trickles in. Two more appear later.  These characters are not separate from their stuff; they are physically and emotionally made of crud. But they are also human, and we can relate to them, perhaps more so because they are so tied up in stuff, in physical possessions, just as we all are.

The actors create these surreal yet real characters naturally. Brian Colonna is Broken Baby Doll Detective, with another broken baby doll detective on his shoulder, constantly clarifying which of those descriptions qualify which words. Militantly stuck in his need for “surveillancing,” he refuses to actually look at what is really happening around him. Erin Rollman is at her bizarre best as Dear Deer, climbing about the piles of crud, wonderfully thrilled by the simple pleasure of jelly toast. Hannah Duggan is comfortable as Barely Bear, in a costume that is amazing. The three are constantly interacting, mostly bickering and playing games, just as we would expect from those who have little real substance to their lives, but instead are focused on stuff.  As the character called “I have no name,” Erik Edborg is the antithesis of the others … sort of. He is invisible to them, most of the time, and frightening to them when he appears. He is the only character that remembers things, which creates a very strange dynamic. He tells them that they will forget him, but that does not keep them from forgetting him a few minutes later.  At times, he seems cruel, but he is not – he is compassionate, but can’t do anything for the others, because they only focus on crud.

The design elements cannot be considered separately from the play itself. Because Buntport fully integrates the creation of their scenery and costumes with the playmaking process, they are a crucial part of the storytelling. Even in this case, when all the stuff, the building blocks of the set and costumes, came from the storage locker, the way they put everything together onstage and in the costumes is phenomenal. Barely Bear’s costume, in particular, is amazing, not appearing human, nor really bear-like, but precisely what this character should be. “I have no name” is nearly invisible at the start, with the surveillance projected on him and his background. The live video is used appropriately, with select moments when the characters take full advantage of the capabilities it provides.

So maybe with Crud, Buntport is just being weird and funny. Very weird, and very funny. But I kept seeing glimpses of meaning as I watched, and the overarching commentary on how crud can dominate our lives and who we are is too important to ignore. In classic Buntport style, Crud is funny, absurd, and laced with meaning, but not too much meaning.  And if you go see this, you will never be able to eat (or pronounce) raspberry jam quite in the same way again.

If You Go…

Crud runs through June 10 at Buntport Theater, 717 Lipan. Performances are Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at 8:00 pm and Sundays at 3:00 pm, with an extra “pay-what-you-can” performance on Monday, June 5. Tickets are only $18 in advance, $20 at the door, with a $3 discount for students and seniors. For information and reservations call 720-946-1388 or visit www.buntport.com. Crud marks the end of Buntport’s 16^th season, but their popular comic Great Debateseries continues through the summer on the third Tuesday of each month, along with The Narrators, a live storytelling show, on the third Wednesdays of each month. Look for an announcement of their 17^th season this summer, which will hopefully also include the ongoing all-ages pirate/myth series Siren Song, on the second Saturday of each month.

Craig Williamson, June 1, 2017, North Denver Tribune

Buntport Theater describes their most recent creation, The Zeus Problem, as inspired by Aeschylus’s Prometheus Bound and current events. The story of Prometheus taking fire from the gods and giving it to humans, then being chained to a rock by Zeus, with an eagle eating his perpetually regenerating liver, is well known. But of course, this is Buntport, so they don’t just retell the story. They provide depth to all the characters, add in Henry David Thoreau working on a translation of Aeschylus’s original Greek play, and throw in the arrogant, insecure, angry, cruel, and immature tyrant Zeus, a character noticeably lacking (much to his chagrin) in the original play. While not manifestly tying the situation to the current political climate, the parallels are obvious. This is a thought-provoking and hilarious look at the original myth and at how easily power can be abused.

The play, as always written by the Buntport five, SamAnTha Schmitz, Erin Rollman, Erik Edborg, Hannah Duggan, and Brian Colonna, starts with a prologue by Zeus, beginning his defense for the horrible things he has done. The grand drape then opens, revealing what is later described as a “dinner party” (though only one character is actually eating anything for most of the show) at an immensely long table that also serves as an occasional acting surface. At one end is Thoreau, with his papers stacked in front of him. Zeus, of course, is seated in the center. At the other end is Prometheus, bound to a rock, Io, a woman whom Zeus has turned into a cow, and the eagle charged with pecking out and eating Prometheus’s constantly regenerating liver. The tableau is both absurd and striking, physically establishing relationships immediately. We then learn more about all the characters, with multiple layers of story being told, following what is in the original play and myth, but also providing insightful and often hilarious perspectives.

The acting is superb. Buntport had Jim Hunt in mind when they created the play, and his performance as Zeus is wonderful. He knows he is all-powerful, but he doesn’t understand or care about the suffering he causes – everything is all about him. He is constantly concerned about his appearance, the size of certain body parts, and while he says selfishly that he wants sympathy, his actions are inherently cruel. (Sound familiar?) Erik Edborg is Prometheus, pushing against Zeus, challenging the power structure. Edborg transforms nicely back and forth as he shifts to speaking the translated lines from the play, which are both jarring and surprisingly lovely (though they don’t always rhyme). As Io, Erin Rollman is tender and sympathetic, though somewhat dim (as one would expect from a cow), and intermittently hilarious as she deals with her bovine reality. Hannah Duggan brings the eagle, not a significant character in the story, to life wonderfully, complaining about her lot in life, saying that she “doesn’t even like liver,” and complaining that there are not even any onions. Both Duggan and Rollman capture an astonishing sense of the animals they are, adding bits and ticks that fit perfectly. As Thoreau, Brian Colonna is intelligent, articulate, quoting himself in appropriate ways, transcending the anachronism that brings the multiple time periods together.

Because Buntport does their own designs as they are developing a play, the technical elements are completely integrated with the storytelling. The set is lovely and striking, with a very, very long table, allowing for separation of the characters and giving Zeus a place to puff himself up above everyone else, as well as a bold and sparkling lightning bolt on the wall, never letting anyone forget Zeus’s power. The costumes are exceptional as well, particularly the two animals. It is difficult to describe why they are so good – there is more than suggestion, but they are still not literal, but allow these two talented actors to become the anthropomorphized animals. Prometheus’s t-shirt is humorously appropriate, and Thoreau is clothed appropriately for the period. The sound and lighting are both exceptional as well – the mixing of several different powerful classical music pieces when Zeus becomes angry is artistically and technically perfect.

Buntport has a remarkable ability to take a classic myth, make it interesting, very funny, and surprisingly real, and then give insights in to our lives today. Even with the humor, the pain and suffering is real. It is not just fire that Prometheus gave to humans, it is enlightenment and reason, and Zeus absolutely hates that. This is a battle between humanity and gods. To keep power, Zeus must fight against reason and justice, unwilling to admit to the cruelty of his treatment of Prometheus and Io. For humanity to survive, reason and justice must prevail, which is a very timely message.

Craig Williamson, February 10, 2017, North Denver Tribune

The script, developed by the usual collaborative Buntporters (Erin Rollman, SamAnTha Schmitz, Hannah Duggan, Brian Colonna, and Erik Edborg), along with fellow castmates Diana Dresser and Michael Morgan, and musicians Dan Eisenstat, Miriam Suzanne, and Sondra Elby, is interesting, funny at times, thoughtful, occasionally very sad, and challenging. It uses a contemporary interpretation of the myth of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus, a man and woman who are merged to form one being of both sexes. In this production, this is (thankfully) not a special effects-based attempt to merge two people, but a decidedly low tech fusion, with Edborg and Dresser using proximity and direct contact to portray the combination of two into one. The story confronts the audience with the reality of what this sort of merger could really mean to the two people themselves and to their circle of friends. Buntport Theater creates new work in a way unlike anyone else. When they adapt, or interpret, or, as they say about their latest creation, 10 Myths on the Proper Application of Beauty Products, do “more of an extension.” One intrinsic aspect of Buntport’s approach is to be consistent with the nature of the original. The source in this case is Miriam Suzanne’s novel Riding SideSaddle (published under the name Eric M. Suzanne), a box of 250 randomly ordered index cards, each with a snippet of the story. Watching the performance, it is helpful to keep this in mind, to set expectations appropriately. 10 Myths is a series of short scenes which are connected by characters and are clearly part of the same story, but do not follow a clear, logical, linear time sequence, yet still have a nice rhythm, building to a climax appropriately.

The physical space is crucially important to the story, as it always is with Buntport, and nearly all the action takes place inside a small (about 8′ by 8′) bathroom. The entire cast is always present, with those not involved in each scene off to the sides, but the movement outside the bathroom is in slow motion and dimly lit. The tight space constrains everything, with its restrictions causing conflict and necessitating compromise. It also allows for some humor at different levels, including physical comedy, some (literal) bathroom humor, the reality of day-to-day life in front of a mirror that isn’t there, and a three-piece band in the bathtub. But importantly, it also helps connect the audience with the story, making it much more part of the contemporary everyday world, including helping to imbue it with undercurrents of how we define gender.

The acting is spot-on. A pure ensemble piece, none of the actors stands out or dominates, but each creates a unique character important to the story. Diana Dresser is Sam, seemingly sad, but hopeful, merging, then merged, then anticipating the merger with Erik Edborg as Herman. From the start, both are somewhat (for lack of a better word) hermaphroditic, reinforcing the gender combination. The two are fascinating to watch as their fusion ebbs and flows throughout the nonlinear “story.” Hannah Duggan and Erin Rollman are realistic as Jenny and Jolene, a loving couple dealing with physical and emotional challenges. Michael Morgan is hilarious as Edward, compulsive and wonderfully frustrated by the others, but still cared for and appreciated as part of the group. Brian Colonna, labeled “Narrator” in the program, also adds comic relief, is perhaps the most real of the characters, and struggles to fit in with the others.

As with all things Buntport, the scenery, lighting, and costumes are developed in parallel with the production by the collaborative group. This enables a level of integration rarely achieved by other companies with the occasional exception of those with very significant budgets. The concept of a small, constrained bathroom in a wide expanse of blackness is intrinsic to the production. The details in the bathroom are impeccable, and the darkened areas to the left and right provide the perfect periphery for the primary action.

The band provides an appropriate soundtrack to the dialogue and activity onstage, never dominating, but always enhancing. The members of the band also provide an opportunity for occasional surprises when they unexpectedly interact with the characters in the story.

While 10 Myths on the Proper Application of Beauty Products has comedy, it is not as funny as much of what Buntport has created over the years. The focus is more thoughtful, challenging the audience to piece together the story from nonlinear bits and pieces, and to think about gender, and identity, and relationships, and loss. I think I prefer some of the more outrageously funny past productions, but I also do like to be challenged in this way, and appreciate that Buntport is always willing to try new and different material, pushing audiences in new directions.

-Craig Williamson, March, 17, 2016 North Denver Tribune

Buntport Theater’s latest original creation, Middle Aged People Sitting in Boxes, nails the absurdist comedy genre perfectly. While nothing of importance happens in the play, and it presents the “vast swaths of mundanity” that make up most of our reality, the dialogue is engaging, compelling, very funny, and even insightful at times. Many thought-provoking questions are asked, with perhaps the key question coming at the end of the show: “Is that all there is?” This clever, absurd, hilarious production will both challenge and entertain you, in classic Buntport style.

This is the story of four middle aged people (how exactly middle age is defined is the subject of some discourse) living their lives. One is on hold, trying to reach customers service. Another is planning a 25th High School Reunion. The third is checking the supplier websites for Fortune 500 companies and signing up as a WMBE. The last is unpacking after an apparent recent move. Oh, yes, and they are all in large plexiglass boxes on wheels. The four actors quickly establish that this odd environment is normal for them, just a part of life. The boxes function both as the obvious metaphor for isolation, but also a source for some brilliant comic moments.

The language is mundane, everyday stuff, but it is compelling nonetheless. As we watch, we want to know more, we want to know what will happen, even though we know that nothing earth-shattering will occur. Questions are asked and discussed, with much of the discussion about who we are, what labels apply to whom, and what the meaning of different labels is. The formal arrangement and movement of the boxes adds another dimension to the verbal sparring between the characters. Much of the language is delivered in parallel monologues, with the characters sometimes interacting and sometimes in their own worlds, nearly always doing something. The whole show has a lovely rhythm created by the level of conversation, the changes in focus and interaction, and the movement onstage.

The four actors play unique characters, each in their own world and their own reality. Erin Rollman is planning her High School Reunion, interacting with her former classmates via social media on her cell phone. She is flippantly judgmental about those asking questions, making comments that many of us have probably thought at times. Poor Brian Colonna is trying to talk with customer service about his account, but keeps getting stuck on hold. His frustration builds nicely, and he gets to perform most of the show without pants. Erik Edborg is unpacking boxes, genuinely surprised and a little bit amused that the contents don’t match the labels he himself wrote. Hannah Duggan is on her laptop the whole time, researching the websites of Fortune 500 companies. Her work is important to her, and she plugs on and on, without knowing exactly why she is doing it. This may seem very familiar to many of us.

The set, primarily consisting of the four different sized and shaped boxes, is an integral part of the play. The actors can move using the small holes in the bases, and they each have one or two ways to reach outside, but are otherwise trapped. The constraints of the boxes reinforce their separateness, but also create opportunities for wonderful pure silliness. The lighting is consistent and effective, and is used to highlight each nicely in succession during the culmination of the show. Since they are in boxes, the actors use microphones, an element that is necessary and effective. Adam Stone’s sound design includes the notification beeps on Erin’s cell phone, and all the hold music, recorded voices, and customer service reps for Brian.

The four characters are all believable as people, but are in an unrealistic environment (sitting in boxes), doing things that are not completely normal. But we can all relate to what they are doing and who they are. As we watch, we connect with how they feel in their interactions with each other and the world. We laugh both at the craziness of what they are going through (which is really, really funny), but also because we understand and know their experiences. We connect, we laugh, we think, and we are entertained. What more can we ask from theater?

-Craig Williamson, April 16, 2015,North Denver Tribune

Several times a year, the five members of Buntport Theater embark on a creative process that results in a new, unique, frequently brilliant, usually hilarious, and always completely original production. Their latest offering is Naughty Bits, inspired by the conspicuously missing penis on the otherwise fully restored Roman statue known as the Lansdowne Hercules. Brian Colonna, Erin Rollman, Erik Edborg, Hannah Duggan, and SamAnTha Schmitz of Buntport could not resist creating a play based on this curious situation. Their comedy is an intertwining of three separate storylines from three separate time periods, all related to the statue, that blend and interact in clever and very funny ways, then finally boil over into hilarious craziness.

The three storylines include a couple in the 1920s who acquire the statue when they purchase an English manor home; an Art Historian making a presentation about the statue in the 1950s; and a present day Romance Novelist trying to write a story involving the statue. The writing is clever and funny, filled with many double entendres (natch), perfectly timed transitions between the stories, visual sight gags, and suggestions of connections left partially to imagination. The construction of the play is intricate and brilliant — the three stories start separate, then begin to blend and merge, finally colliding together in a verbal and visual cacophony.

With Buntport, it is difficult to separate out “direction” from playwriting and acting, but there are elements worth noting. The instantaneous transitions between the storylines are clear and sharp, with the scene being left continuing without sound. All three are simultaneously going on for nearly all of the play, with the characters moving in and out of each other’s space in a carefully choreographed dance. This approach allows for contrasting the three stories, clearly illustrating the commonalities and the differences, and enables some incredibly funny bits.

As actors, the Buntporters are at their best with comedy, but also able to add an edge of meaning. Erik Edborg is hilariously idiosyncratic as the Art Historian, with wonderful expressiveness and great mannerisms. Hannah Duggan is the brusque and forthright Romance Novelist, explicitly describing things in her story, as well as ridiculing herself and romance novels in general. As the couple, Brian Colonna and Erin Rollman seem comfortable together, and surprisingly natural as they begin cross-dressing in their 1920s costumes. The four work in tight coordination throughout, and especially as the stories begin to blend and merge, and finally in the climactic conclusion.

The set is simple, with elegant Victorian furniture appropriate for Lansdowne House, and a nice 1950s-era slide projector and screen. The lighting is a key element to this production, with different colors for each of the three stories helping to highlight the transitions, without sacrificing the basic need for illumination of the scenes. The control and coordination tying the light cues to the dialogue is notable. The costumes were spot on, placing the characters in their appropriate time frames, and near the end, adding an over-the-top comic element as well.

After some more serious productions recently, with Naughty Bits, Buntport returns their focus to comedy. There are some bits of social commentary here, but mostly, this is pure comedy, clever and creative, done as only Buntport can. They have pushed themselves beyond their own comfort zones in some ways, and in doing so, will challenge your expectations. Finally, they will surprise you with a hilarious and remarkably consistent ending to a clever, interesting, and funny play.

-Craig Williamson, September 18, 2014, North Denver Tribune

Buntport Theater opens their 13th season with their latest original creation, Electra Onion Eater, a comic retelling of Sophocles’ classic Greek tragedy Electra. The play is set in the 1970s, and interacts with a televised soap opera that two of the characters are watching, but somehow still manages to keep most of the basic plot elements. This is vintage Buntport — taking an existing story, twisting and reinterpreting it, infusing it with silliness and irony, but staying true to the essence of the original.

Electra Onion Eater is a play about revenge and onions. Electra is (understandably) upset that her mother, Clytemnestra, has killed her husband Agamemnon, father to Electra and Orestes. Like any good Greek tragedy, oracles and gods direct the action, and not much makes rational sense. Suffice to say that Electra impatiently awaits Orestes return, anticipating that he will then kill Clytemnestra and her lover. In the midst of all this, Electra engages in conversation with the characters in the soap opera she watches every day, getting their advice and perspective on things. The script simultaneously pokes fun at the ridiculousness of the original story and honors it, a strange contrast reinforced by individual incongruous juxtapositions scattered throughout. Electra wails and cries frequently, usually blaming it on the onions that she chops and cooks into pies, with an actual oven onstage, using smell to bring the audience more into the action.

As usual, the Buntport collective directs the show. They have made the blocking formal at times, with characters slowly striding downstage in parallel, each in their own “lane.” The set imposes restrictions on movement that force a lot of upstage-downstage movement, further enhancing the overall formality. Throughout the show, everything consistently combines the classic and the contemporary, but does so in a way that fits together.

Erin Rollman is quirky and disturbed as Electra, incessantly preparing onion pies, beating her chest in anguish. She opens the show by herself, building the context and her character clearly, covering a wide range of emotions credibly. Her preparation of onion pies sets a new level for “stage business” that may not soon be equaled. Hannah Duggan is Clytemnestra, the superficial mother, clearly impatient with Electra’s constant wailing. She is also a flirt, trying to seduce poor Bruce, played by temporary Buntporter Drew Horwitz. Horwitz’s Bruce tries (unsuccessfully, of course) to bring sanity and a voice of reason to the story, questioning whether there really needs to be still more killing. Orestes, played by Erik Edborg, is unable to act on his own, following the oracle’s instructions to the letter. The recorded voices of an impressive group of local actors, including Karen Slack, Michael Morgan, Jessica Robblee, and Brian Colonna deliver just the right amount of melodrama for the soap opera.

The set design combines formality with a 1970s period look, including a functional kitchen for preparing onion pies. The stage is split into three lanes, allowing for some fun formal movement. The costumes are delightful, hitting just the right tacky 1970s look. The lighting is basic but sound, providing good illumination throughout. The sound, by frequent Buntport collaborator Adam Stone, particularly the recording of the soap opera, is detailed and accurate, making the interaction between those on stage and the soap opera characters both more real and surreal. The design elements are well integrated into the overall production, something that Buntport, with their comprehensive collaborative approach, does consistently very well.

Electra Onion Eater is a lot of fun. It constantly juxtaposes opposites, is filled with comedy, and still stays true to the original. Each time I go to Buntport, I expect comic and creative brilliance, and even these high expectations are often exceeded. While Electra Onion Eater was not quite to the level of genius that some of their shows have been, it is still very entertaining and creative, and well worth seeing.

— Craig Williamson, November 7, 2013, North Denver Tribune