This past weekend, I took part as two theatre companies invited us to play with them in ways that stretched — or shrank — space and time. Each deserves its own review, but I think they shed light on each other.
50 HOUR DRIVE-BY at Zombie Joe’s Underground
ZJU is the quintessential black box. In the back half of a narrow North Hollywood storefront, 40 seats (in an “L”) surround a stage of perhaps 300 square feet. Space is shrunk as far as can be.
Writers ready their pens at the 13th annual “Drive-By”
Once a year, Zombie Joe invites a handful of writers and directors, and a passel of actors, to a mad challenge. Given (by lot) three or four actors and a few random props, each writer has 25 hours to weave a new play. Then the directors each get 25 hours to bring their play (chosen by lot) to stage. Time is shrunk as far as can be.
At this year’s “Drive-By,” the five offerings are (as usual) a rapid, ragged romp, wildly varied in subject, but not so dispersed in style.
The black box and L-shaped audience space impose a discipline. They nudge actors to play “full out” to the L’s apex — not facing each other, discreetly “cheating” toward folks behind the fourth wall.
The abbreviated time likewise urges a certain style. Things can’t develop slowly, with foreshadowing. They’re more likely to pop, flick past quickly, and be replaced. What develops slowly may be the audience’s understanding.
Take this year’s opener, “Doodlebug’s Lament” (Jim Eshom, dir. Jana Wimer). Amid a flurry of instant, near-identical scenes, I have an “Aha.” This demented dentist (Daniel Camacho) will keep torturing his hapless patient (Ronnel Ricardo Parham) at the whim of this mad woman (Anne Wescott) who consults her floppy dog doll. But why? Suddenly, the characters try to break out, and I see it’s a love thing, and maybe … then it ends.
An addled troubador (Leif LaDuke) starts to capture it all in a song, but wanders offstage too soon.
Then “Fran’s Home Version” (Jeri Batzdorff, dir. Vanessa Cate) erupts. Thoroughly modern Fran (Corey Zicari) invites her two unwitting suitors to a face-off, dueling for her favors in quizzes, a thumb-wrestle, a duet (crooning “our song”) and mano-a-mano slapstick. The boys (Willy Romano-Pugh and Matt DeNoto) evoke Laurel and Hardy as their daft competition drifts into camaraderie.
Then the troubador returns, knowing more than he tells.
“Tartine” (Kerr Lordygan, dir. Sebastian Munoz) develops another triangle, as dependent Gelle (Caitlin Carleton) wavers between her passion for the wise, aloof Yeulah (Ellen Runkle) and her possessive TweedleDee of a brother (Steven Alloway). Ah, it seems they’re fighting over Mom … or is this an internal trialogue … or …
On the swift heels of death, the singer stumbles in. Then out.
Jennifer (Eunice Viggers) and Samantha (Mary Rachel Gardner) are marooned, faintly recall an accident … A zaftig bubbe (Ann Hurd) says she’s St. Peter and they’re at “The Pearly Gates” (Denise Devin, dir. Denise Devin). Gifts from their late mother revive their memory of being loved, their desire to love and try again …
The guitar man enters, strums, hums, and leaves.
Leaping on last comes “My Lady” (Adam Neubauer, dir. Jim Eshom), on the shoulders of three energetic young men in tighty whiteys (Tyler Koster, Billy Minogue and David Wyn Harris). Each vows his prowess and devotion to the unseen Lady. Enter her aged husband (Roger K. Weiss), wielding a ball-cutter that cowers them all. But his revelation that Lady is 94 years old doesn’t cool their jets …
When you condense time and space so radically, the devil whispers, “Make it simple, easy, clear.” The ZJU crowd pays that fool no mind. For them, compression works as in nuclear physics — it begets explosive energy, with possible meanings whirling off at light speed. And gasps and groans and laughter in the seats. As it should be.
A final note about time: By its nature, the “50 Hour Drive-By” has a short half-life. It’s performed three times, then closes. Drop by next year …