Remaining Performances:
Jul 24th 5 pm
Jul 25th 8:30 pm
Jul 26th 5 pm

They Say: A show that runs the gamut from A to D. Attention deficits, afternoon delights, American dreams, artistic differences, anxiety disorders, they’re all here. From the author of last year’s A Report of Gunfire, a comic look at the world today.

Llewellyn’s take: Of the “A.D.” items listed in the description, the emphasis should be placed on “attention deficit” and “anxiety disorders.”  There are also American Dreams and artistic differences, though I didn’t see any afternoon delights.  Instead, A.D. is a frenetic, one-woman dash through multiple personalities that weave in and out of neurotic introspections…all of it surrounding the fast-paced huck-a-buck world we live in today.  Annie Huey keeps up the tempo throughout the show with a nervous grin no matter which character she assumes, from frantic stewardess to nervous art model.

Unfortunately, this rapid change prevents Huey from ever really inhabiting or exploring any one persona—the characters all merge into one  blurred, smiling, speed-talking, hummingbird-type personality.  When the script jumps to a stand-up routine, it’s hard to realize that this comedienne isn’t just the next in a series of characters.  The comedy in that portion can be trite when it delves into Seinfeld style observational humor (e.g. “you twitter your Facebook to your flickr”), but it picks up when she starts chatting with invisible characters.  In the midst of neurotic breakdowns, she lashes out at the voices of those who are ogling and asking questions but who won’t give her a moment to think.  It’s the feminine hyper-culture version of “Stop the World – I Want to get Off”.  Sans mimes.

See it if: You think anxiety isn’t a condition; it’s more of a lifestyle choice.

Skip it if: You lost interest at “frenetic one-woman monologue”

The Real Adventures of Tom Mix

Remaining Performances:
July 22, 6 p.m.
July 24, 8 p.m.
July 26, 1 p.m.

They say: “The glamour of Hollywood meets the glory of the Old West in the real life, death-defying adventures of Tom Mix, the first western movie star.”

Brian’s take: Your grandmother’s armpits. The British Open. An assortment of mildly fragrant cheeses. All of these things are wilder than the West portrayed in The Real Adventures of Tom Mix.

Here’s the gist: Tom Mix was one of the first famous Western movie stars. He made hundreds of films — the vast majority of them silent — and the creators of this play have apparently used letters and historical papers and whatnot to construct a monologue for an actor who rarely got to recite one.

A compelling idea, sure: giving voice to the voiceless. But good lord, give that voice something to say — and an hour’s worth of vaguely interesting biographical facts does not count.

Playing the character of Mix, at least as it’s currently written, is a thankless task to ask of Jack Tomalis — or any actor really. And Tomalis doesn’t show the character much love in return. In lieu of their voices, silent movie actors, by necessity, drew upon a deep and dynamic arsenal of expressions. Tomalis, on the other hand, draws upon approximately two — his Consternated Face, and his Wistful Face. I left The Real Adventures of Tom Mix wearing my own version of the former.

See it if: Your grandma’s armpits are unavailable.

Skip it if: Thinking of the Old West inspires your Wistful Face. This failed homage will turn your nostalgia to sadness.

Remaining Performances:
July 19th at 3 pm
July 23 at 10:15 pm
July 25th at 6:15 pm

They say: “Get intimate. Enjoy an evening of conversation and poetry in this one woman show combining a dancer’s grace with language laced in feminine sensuality. Join in her discovery.”

Caroline’s take: Part monologue, part performance poetry, and part traditional Indian dance, Neelam Patel delivers a deeply personal show that attempts to find some middle ground between her American and Indian heritage.  As much as she brings the audience into her stories, the result is most therapeutic for Patel herself: Using the performance as a form of release, she shares her experiences, all of them true, as a way of connecting with her past.

The show starts with a series of monologues, beginning in infancy when Patel’s family immigrated to New Jersey.  Adolescence ensues: There are parties with boys, conflicts at school, and disagreements with her parents about Bon Jovi.  When she starts describing her need to fit in among the big-haired blondes however, the reflections turn inward and you can hear Patel reverting to her teenage mentality to tell the story.  That she is so in touch with her ideas and emotions at different times in her life is powerful and makes the show all the more poignant.

As the show proceeds, the monologues transition into performance poems that Patel admits yet more personal.  A particularly intense poem about a passionate relationship with a boyfriend goes over well, but she does not hit her stride until she fuses the aspects of both of her cultures together.  In “Nationhood,” she admits to not feeling at home in either culture—she’s at once too Indian and too American.  But instead of dwelling on the frustration, she sees her nation as the path she creates everyday.  This acceptance of her experience gives the performance even more power.

Incorporating traditional Indian dance is important to Patel (she only started performing her poems after she quit dancing due to an injury) and even though it’s nice to watch, it does not add significantly to the concept of the show.  The dancing allows the audience to step back rather than remain immersed in the stories she tells.  Really, her dances are another narrative altogether, but when each element comes together at the end, you finally understand Patel’s whole story.

See it if: You want to know more about Indian culture, laugh about coming of age in New Jersey, or enjoy Bollywood music.

Skip it if: You’re not interested in 45 minutes of serious self-reflection.

Billy the Kid: First Exhumation

Remaining Performances:
July 17th, 7 pm
July 25th, 5 pm

They say: Directed by a former member of Herbert Blau’s performance group Kraiken, Redd Shifft tackles similar performance issues, including spontaneous improvisation, psycho-association, physical and vocal reflexivity, all in a highly charged, non-linear context of the body longing to know.

Llewellyn’s take: Be grateful for the Fringe Festival: these experimental theater opportunities that are few and far between in DC.  Dramatic improvisation may not be everybody’s cup of tea for sure, but I like it as a palate-cleanser from a world filled with Legally Blonde the Musicals.

So here we have Billy the Kid: A First Exhumation, a storytelling experiment that delves into the fight-or-flight mentality.  Intertwined with the stream of consciousness re-enactment of Billy’s life are modern tales of revenge and revenge fantasies. Threats punctuate dream sequences while a tense Western gunfight-strum plays in the background.  The characters are there only to mock and threaten each other—just the way Artaud might have wanted them to.

The acting is best in the monologues, wherein the characters have full range to run free with their emotions, but in between these, the straightforward retelling of Billy’s life is fraught with the caricatures of the old West.  The staid stereotypes of rowdy drunkards and saloon shootouts are so ingrained from TV and radio shows that it’s hard to get past them and find something that doesn’t sound like, “Yew shot mah paw”.  The story touches on a personal side of Billy himself—that he might not be the gun-swinging archetype people generally assume him to be, but just another person who let his emotions get ahead of himself.  The monologues play off of this narrative in ways that aren’t completely apparent, but they make for a good story.

See it if: You like dramatic improv and a good fight story.

Skip it if: Western accents make you think of Bonanza reruns.