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Behold the man
"Ecco Porco" is an alternately exciting and tedious character study, mind-teasing in its best moments but self-consciously overbearing in its worst.
By FRANK EPISALE
Offoffoff.com
There is little question that "Ecco Porco" is a unique theatrical
experience. Over the course of four hours, the audience is treated to a
Bunraku-style puppet named John who masturbates while having phone sex with
a dog, a flying tantric sex therapist, a heartfelt monologue from Marge
Simpson, and a piggish man named Porco who re-enacts scenes from the lives of
Meyerhold and Orson Welles.
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| ECCO PORCO |
Written and directed by: Lee Breuer.
Cast: Frederick Neumann, Ruth Maleczech, Karen Kandel, Maude Mitchell,
Honora Fergusson, Barbara Pollitt, Jane Catherine Shaw, Clove Galilee, Terry
O'Reilly, Sarah Provost, Judson Wright, Arva Shirazi, Black Eyed Susan,
Daniel Kundi, Jay Peck, Jennifer Wineman, Carol Binion, Christopher Voss,
Wah Mohn, and Liam Fistos.
Choreography by: Clove Galilee, Carlos De Chey.
Music by: Bob Telson, Eve Beglarian, Casey Neel.
Production Design: Manuel Lutgenhorst.
Violence: Felix Ivanov.
Sound Design: Eric Shim.
Costume Design: Elizabeth Bourgeois.
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| SCHEDULE |
P.S. 122
150 First Ave. at 9th St.
Jan. 3-27, 2002
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Lee Breuer's newest "animation" is alternately exciting and tedious, with
flashes of undeniable brilliance interrupted by long stretches of
self-indulgence and pretension. The primary setting is a drama-therapy
workshop for performers. Some of these performers are human, others are
animal and several are some combination of the two. All the narratives of
the play are born out of this therapy.; the actors play roles within roles,
the characters projecting themselves into other characters, acting out ideas
and fantasies, exorcizing demons from their pasts, etc. This structure
allows for monologues and scenes that reference a dizzying array of cultural
and philosophical icons, giving the impression that Mr. Breuer wants to
write a play about Everything.
There are two central characters: Gonzo Porco, Ph.D., and Rose the Dog. Rose
is played by four actresses and two puppets. Each actress represents a
different stage of Rose's story, her painful and obsessive sexual
relationship with a man named John. Porco, (the impressive Frederick
Newmann) is apparently an artist of some kind. He draws parallels between
himself and Nietzsche, Meyerhold, Orson Welles and others, projecting himself as these characters, moving from persona to tortured persona.
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| | At its best, "Ecco Porco" is an intellectual carnival. Too often, though, it seems to wink at the audience, hinting
at inside jokes that fly over their heads. "If you can't keep up with me,"
Mr. Breuer seems to be saying, "it's your own fault." |
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Several of the performances are remarkable. Mr. Neumann somehow makes sense
of (or at least gives the impression of understanding) a nearly
incomprehensible role, diving into tortuous rants and tossing off vitriolic
asides with confidence and a surprising emotional coherence. The
extraordinary Ruth Maleczech — playing both the oldest incarnation of Rose and the voice of John, as well as Sri Moo the Guru Cow — exhibits astonishing vocal control and flexibility and parses the difficult text while projecting eroticism, sadness and a sly sense of humor. Karen Kandel (as another incarnation of Rose) nearly steals the show with a charismatic
song-and-dance number and a poignant extended monologue.
Breuer directs his text with a great deal of energy and flair. Characters
dance and sing and fight and even fly. Actors film scenes as they are
performed, the video images sometimes projected onto window-like screens.
Elements of the set are rotated and reconfigured while actors perform atop
them. The puppets, lights and music are all spectacular.
At its best, "Ecco Porco" is an intellectual carnival, encompassing camp,
philosophy, politics and spectacle, weaving them together until they are
difficult to separate or distinguish from one another. One-liners leap out
from the chaotic text and elicit laughter while provoking more complex
reactions: "You're only as sick as your secrets," and "To reify is to
deify."
Too often, though, the play feels like a bibliography of everything Mr.
Breuer has ever read. The entire show seems to wink at the audience, hinting
at inside jokes that fly over their heads. "If you can't keep up with me,"
Mr. Breuer seems to be saying, "it's your own fault." There's also an ugly
defensiveness present, as the playwright tries to anticipate his critics and
deflect the possibility of the play's flaws by pointing out that they are
intentional. When the mostly engaging story of Rose grows stale and
overlong, a character steps forward and points it out, saying "this doesn't
fly." An actor is announces as the justly vilified John Simon and proceeds
to recite a review as pompous as the play itself.
For more than thirty years, Lee Breuer and Mabou Mines have created
challenging, fiercely original theatre. Along with The Wooster Group and
Richard Foreman, they have repeatedly and consistently set the standard for
the New York avant-garde. With "Ecco Porco", though, they also remind us
that auteurs are often guilty of artistic hubris, and that everyone can
benefit from a good editor from time to time.
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JANUARY 27, 2002
OFFOFFOFF.COM • THE GUIDE TO ALTERNATIVE NEW YORK
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