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Oklahoma Review: Hip and Homey not Hokey, with Mixed Results

At the scaled-down, reimagined production of “Oklahoma!” at St. Ann’s Warehouse, they didn’t give us the program until after the musical was over – one of the several signs that director Daniel Fish sees his version as cutting-edge, and wants us to see it that way too. In a traditional show, they give you the program before the show begins.
“Oklahoma!” has been a traditional show for decades. Yes, Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II’s first musical was considered groundbreaking when it debuted on Broadway, but that was 75 years ago.
Fish clearly felt it time to break new ground. What’s sprung from that broken ground is decidedly mixed.

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Stars in the Night Review: A Vague “Immersive” Show in Dazzling DUMBO

Although billed as “an intimate immersive production,” what “Stars in the Night” actually offers, at its best, is the exact opposite — a spectacular public setting. An audience of no more than a dozen at a time are led through several locations indoors and outdoors in DUMBO, a Brooklyn neighborhood that feels inherently theatrical: It has its own dramatic Chiaroscuro lighting, a backdrop of magnificent bridges and distinctive, gentrified 19th century buildings, and a colorful cast of passersby who, on a night with good weather, crowd the cobbled streets and newly green parkland on the river’s edge.
Unfortunately, most of the show’s characters, portrayed by eight members of the Los Angeles-based company Firelight Collective, are not much more developed during the show than those passersby. The story they act out is vague, arty, clichéd  and confusing – so much so that some 90 minutes after the show began and a cast member deposited us on Jay Street, the other theatergoers and I stood around waiting for the next performer to come along and lead us somewhere, not realizing “Stars in the Night” had come to an end.

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Remnant Review: Theater Mitu’s Inventive Tech Take on War, Loss and Death

“Remnant,” according to Theater Mitu’s director Ruben Polendo, is a meditation on war, death and loss. It is Mitu’s first piece in the first building that the 20-year-old company can call its own – a former glass recycling plant that Mitu has retrofitted as an “interdisciplinary art space” and rechristened Mitu580. (The building’s address is 580 Sackett Street, in Gowanus, Brooklyn.)
For “Remnant,” as Polendo informs us in a program note, the company spent three years interviewing people who have been directly affected by war, especially veterans, and people who have been diagnosed with terminal illnesses, along with their families and their caretakers; as well as spiritual leaders and artists and…many other people. Read more of this post

Long Day’s Journey Into Night at BAM with Jeremy Irons: Review, pics

By the end of the Broadway revival of Long Days Journey Into Night two years ago, when Jessica Lange as mother Mary Tyrone rejoins her family, she is an ethereal ghost, her mind and body numbed by the morphine to which she is addicted. Now, at the same moment on stage in Brooklyn, Lesley Manville’s Mary practically does a jig. Hers is one of the unusually physical performances in the Bristol Old Vic production of Long Day’s Journey into Night at the Brooklyn Academy of Music this month. Eugene O’Neill’s domestic dance feels like a literal dance at times in this version directed by Sir Richard Eyre in a cast led by Jeremy Irons. The four members of the Tyrone family, stand-ins for O’Neill’s own, jostle each other violently; pounce and push, hug and jab; raise their arms in the air in drunken triumph; stretch their bodies oddly, as if the play’s long running time has caused a few cricks…

The distinctive touches of the production, some at variance with the playwright’s conception, don’t wind up seriously detracting from what most matters about Long Day’s Journey into Night. In the Bristol Old Vic’s version as in every other I’ve seen, the play is a powerful and insightful tragedy…

Full review on DC Theatre Scene

Click on any photograph by Richard Termine to see it enlarged.

King Lear at BAM: Review and pics

“King Lear” begins with a foolish ruler swayed by flattery, and ends with what Royal Shakespeare Company artistic director Greg Doran calls “a strange, profound unease.” Shakespeare’s tragedy is, in other words, as relevant as ever. And Doran’s often visually arresting if rarely shattering production at the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s Harvey Theater, which stars Antony Sher as Lear, is as good as any to remind us of the Bard’s insights into stormy times, and the self-delusions of the powerful.

Full review at DC Theatre Scene

Click any photograph by Richard Termine to see it enlarged

 

Arlington Review: Enda Walsh’s Happy Orwellian Love Story

With his new play “Arlington,” playwright and director Enda Walsh presents an unusual love story set against a future dystopian society, which might shock New York theatergoers who know Walsh only as the Tony-winning book writer for the charming Broadway musical “Once.” It will be less shocking to those who attended “Lazarus,” Walsh’s collaboration with David Bowie at the New York Theater Workshop in 2015, with which it shares a general theatrical approach. “Arlington” invests more attention on sensory stimulation than clarity or coherence.

Isla (played by Charlie Murphy) is in a waiting room, complete with the number being served (3097.)  It is sterile, white, un-softened by the fish tank and large Swiss Cheese Plant common to doctor’s offices the world over. But this waiting room also has surveillance cameras. Isla is being monitored. A young man (Hugh O’Conor) is doing the monitoring in an adjoining room cluttered with filing cabinets and computer screens.

The (never named) young man is new, replacing an older man who, we eventually learn, summoned him and then dropped dead.

We sense a connection between Isla and the young man from the get-go. Walsh’s gift for dialogue shines through in what could almost pass as a conventionally charming scene of boy meets girl, as he speaks to her over a microphone, and she talks into the surveillance equipment in her room.

Isla: Are you handsome?
Young Man: Not really no.
Isla: You’re not just saying that?
Young Man: Well in a certain light I can be – in a very darkish light.

Then she asks him whether he thinks she’s attractive and urges him to be honest.

Young Man: Sort of.
Isla: I think that’s a bit too honest.
Young Man: Sort of attractive is better than a bit attractive….It’s also a little better than slightly attractive.

The conventional ends here, however. We are given enough information to piece together a vague understanding of the unsettling world they inhabit. Isla has lived in this “waiting room” since the age of four, which is in a tower, one of many towers that long ago replaced the village or city – or country? – in which they were built. The prisoners – for that’s what they seem to be – spend their days telling stories to themselves of a better past, or dreams of a better future.

The drama, such as it is, is interrupted by a 20-minute dance by Oona Doherty, to Emma Martin’s choreography and Teho Teardo’s music,  that evokes the individual prison that the world has become, and the fate of the prisoners.

Unlike “1984,” with which Walsh’s work can be compared, “Arlington” ends more happily than it begins – although it’s uncertain whether we can trust the ultimate scene as happening for real, or just an imagined story. In either case, the path to get there is one that resembles no conventional love story, which is in some ways refreshing (admittedly not the best adjective to use in conjunction with such a bleak universe.)

For those theatergoers with a taste for avant-garde, multimedia performance art, “Arlington” is well done. The two actors and the dancer are appealing and credible. The  rock score is fast and furious.  The design offers a near-constant barrage of in-your-face lighting changes, sound effects and projections.  There is even a companion art installation entitled Rooms that fills out information about the world that Walsh has created. That installation, with a separate admission charge, is at the future home of the Irish Arts Center, on 11th Avenue in Manhattan, while “Arlington” is at St. Ann’s Warehouse on Water Street in Brooklyn. It’s too bad they couldn’t be in the same place.

Arlington
St. Ann’s Warehouse
Written and directed by Enda Walsh
Choreographed by Emma Martin
Set and Costume Designer          Jamie Vartan
Lighting Designer                         Adam Silverman
Sound Designer                            Helen Atkinson
Composer                                      Teho Teardo
Video Designer                              Jack Phelan
Isla                                                   Charlie Murphy
Young Man                                     Hugh O’Conor
Young Woman                               Oona Doherty
Featuring the voices of Olwen Fouéré, Helen Norton and Stephen Rea
Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission.
Tickets: $36-$81
“Arlington” is scheduled to run through May 28, 2017.

Pericles Review: Shakespeare’s Les Miz?

Pericles_Christian-Camargo as old Pericles_photo-Gerry-GoodsteinWhy would Trevor Nunn, director of the musicals Les Miserables and Cats, choose one of Shakespeare’s least-revived plays as the first he’s staged with an American company, for an audience in Brooklyn? One answer may be that “Pericles” was the Les Miz and Cats of its day, which is to say, an immense crowd pleaser in 1608, one of the Bard’s biggest hits. Nunn honors that legacy in the Theater for a New Audience production of “Pericles” at the Polonsky Shakespeare Center,  with a gorgeous, swashbuckling pageant, featuring – in order of delight — Constance Hoffman’s parade of fancy and fanciful character-revealing costumes; Shaun Davey’s tuneful, period-appropriate music performed by the splendid roly-poly musicians of the PigPen Theatre Co who portray sundry sailors and servants as well;  lighting designer Stephen Strawbridge’s dreamy hues of blue and vivid orange; and a sexy hero in Christian Camargo, who transforms through his many travels, trials and tribulations into a forlorn figure, until the miraculous and moving happy ending. There is also a large cast that is certainly game and largely (but not entirely) winning.

Click on any photograph by Gerry Goodstein to see it enlarged


Now, yes, within a few years after Shakespeare’s death, “Pericles” was being dismissed as a “mouldy tale” (Ben Jonson, 1629) with a “ridiculous, incoherent story” (John Dryden, 1672.) The adventures surely pile up and pile on. Pericles must face two different kings offering contests for the hands of their daughters, and endure various shipwrecks, one of which (apparently but not actually) kills his wife and forces Pericles to abandon his newly born daughter Marina. Sixteen years later, we see that Marina has grown into such a beauty that her foster mother, a queen,  wants to have her murdered for outshining her own daughter; luckily, before that happens, Marina is kidnapped by pirates and sold into a brothel. You get the idea. (A more complete synopsis is available in the program)

Even Shakespeare seems to acknowledge that he goes too far, or at least for too long; at one point (some 150 minutes into this production) he has the poet Gower, our narrator, assure the audience that the play is almost over:

Now our sands are almost run. More a little, and then dumb.

Many have said that “Pericles” has little of the depth and lyricism of Shakespeare’s better-known work. Nunn seems to agree. After all, although the former director of the Royal Shakespeare Company and the National Theatre,  Nunn had never directed “Pericles” before. He’d staged 34 of Shakespeare’s plays before this one, which may say something. What says more is that Nunn takes great liberties with the text.

I noticed this because, when I was a schoolboy, I spent all summer working as an usher at a theater that was presenting “Pericles,” and wound up reciting parts of it in my sleep – or in any case when I woke up.  These many years later, I was thrilled in anticipation of the opening verse of the play that would be  rendered by the deep-voiced Raphael Nash Thompson as Gower:

To sing a song that old was sung,
From ashes ancient Gower is come;
Assuming man’s infirmities,
To glad your ear, and please your eyes.

But these were not the first words in Nunn’s “Pericles.” The director  switched in some later verse for the beginning,  made this first verse part of a song, but without the last two lines, which he completely eliminated from the script.  I’ll confess that this sort of slicing and splicing didn’t especially glad my ear. But I didn’t wind up minding, for (although Gower no longer promises to do so) the show did please my eyes.

 

Pericles

Written by William Shakespeare; Directed by Trevor Nunn; Music Composed by Shaun Davey

Scenic Designer: Robert Jones; Costume Designer: Constance Hoffman; Lighting Designer: Stephen Strawbridge; Sound Designer: Daniel Kluger; Choreographer: Brian Brooks; Props: Eric Reynolds; Fight Director: J. Allen Suddeth; Vocal Coach: Andrew Wade; Dramaturg: Jonathan Kalb; Casting: Deborah Brown; Hair/Wig & Makeup Designer: David Bova;  Music Director: Charles Reuter; Associate Director: Illana Stein

Cast: Christian Camargo, Oberon K.A. Adjepong, Earl Baker Jr., Philip Casnoff, Gia Crovatin, Lilly Englert, Nina Hellman, Zachary Infante, Patrice Johnson Chevannes, John Keating, Ian Lassiter, Sam Morales, Raphael Nash Thompson, Michael Siberry, Will Swenson,and PigPen Theatre Co.; Also Alex Falberg, Ben Ferguson, Curtis Gillen, Ryan Melia, Matt Nuernberger, Arya Shahi and Dan Weschler

Running time: Almost three hours, including intermission

Tickets: $75 to 85

“Pericles” is scheduled to run through March 27

 

 

 

Then She Fell Review: Alice in An Immersive Wonderland

ThenSheFellredqueenwhiterabbitThose looking to unlock the secret to the success of “Then She Fell,” the Third Rail Projects’ immersive take on Lewis Carroll and his writings now entering its fourth year, might start with the old-fashioned set of keys each member of the audience is given at the start of our adventure through this theatrical Wonderland.

The keys literally open drawers and boxes and cupboards throughout the three-story former school building in Williamsburg meticulously made over to resemble a mental hospital (complete with stern-looking nurses in 19th century habits.) We are able to riffle through (facsimile) letters and postcards and photographs directly connected to Lewis Carroll’s work, his life, and his acquaintances, especially Alice Liddell, the young girl who was his muse for Alice in Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass.

The keys also work as a metaphor. Over the course of the two-hour running time of this elusive, dark and delightful show, each individual theatergoer feels put in charge of unlocking the mysteries not just of what’s in front of us, but also of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson – pen name, Lewis Carroll.

Click on any photograph to see it enlarged*

“Then She Fell,” which has been around since 2012 (originally taking place in the abandoned Greenpoint Hospital), plays to an audience of just 15 people per performance, and even then the mostly silent performers split us up early and often. Each individual theatergoer is ushered into one dark room after another, often alone or with just one or two other audience members. Unlike Sleep No More, there are no free range theatergoers. The often intricately detailed rooms into which each of us is shepherded – which are surely chosen at random, but brook no dissent – add up to an individual theatergoing experience. We encounter familiar characters in sometimes discombobulating environments, often but not always interacting with them. In one room – a chaotic haberdashery! — the Mad Hatter (Elizabeth Carena) made me try on some weird hats; in another, a character silently fed me a grape; in a third, another character played a card trick. There are some stunning set pieces. Two Alices (Marissa Neilson-Pincus and Tara O’Con on the night I saw the show) precisely reflect each other’s gestures facing one another through an elaborate mirror frame that has no mirror. A character I realized much later was the White Rabbit (Carlton Cyrus Ward) sat across from me painting white roses red, and silently gesturing for me to do the same. Near the end, a formally-suited young man (Andrew Broadus) – who I realized later was meant to be Lewis Carroll — dictated a message for me to write to Alice, then placed the message inside a bottle, and took me to a room where he put the bottle in the water that (I suddenly noticed) flooded much of the floor, where it bobbed along with other bottles placed there as if in the sea. (the “pool of tears” from Alice in Wonderland?)
For all the atmosphere of mystery, the show offers light bulb moments of great satisfaction. I had two in quick succession watching through a window as a performer in an adjoining room executed what seemed like a dance of the insane, but nevertheless one with great formality. When she put on a red ruffled collar I suddenly noticed her red dress: “Ah, the Red Queen!” (I confess I was slower to identify the characters than I should have been.) But that wasn’t all: On the wall near the window hung a letter reflecting the historical fact that Alice Liddell’s mother became uncomfortable with a grown man befriending her young daughter, and there was a break between the two families. The thought suddenly occurred to me: Maybe Carroll based the Red Queen not just on the game of chess, but on Alice’s mother.
There is no evidence this is what the creative team wanted me to conclude. There is plenty, however, to feed the historical speculation that Carroll had an unhealthy obsession with his young muse. This is not why “Then She Fell” is restricted to theatergoers 21 and over. All the tasty beverages served in medicinal vials are alcoholic – with the exception of the hot tea in delicate porcelain cups served at the tea party to which some of us are lucky enough to be invited.

*Some of the photographs without captions were taken of the production when it was at the Greenpoint Hospital site.

Then She Fell
“Kingsland Ward at St. Johns” 195 Maujer Street , Williamsburg, Brooklyn
by Third Rail Projects (Artistic Directors: Zach Morris, Tom Pearson, Jennine Willett)

Directed, designed, written and choreographed by
Zach Morris, Tom Pearson, and Jennine Willett

Created in collaboration with Elizabeth Carena, Alberto Denis, Stacie C. Fields, Rebekah Morin, Marissa Nielsen-Pincus, Tara O’Con, Zoë Schieber

Original music and sound design by Sean Hagerty, costume design by Karen Young, lighting design by Kryssy Wright,

Cast (vary per performance):Rachel I. Berman, Carly Berrett-Plagianakos, Lia Bonfilio, Andrew Broaddus, Giulia Carotenuto, Lindsey Dietz-Marchant, Caitlin Dutton, Zhauna Franks, Kim Fischer, Kelly Garone, Brighid Greene, Carolyn Hall, Julia Kelly, Madison Krekel, Mary Madsen, Justin Mock, Christina Robson, Kim Savarino, Alex M. Schell, Samuel Swanton, Shelby Terrell, Simon Thomas-Train, Madeline Wilcox

“Ward staff”: NJ Agwuna, Stephanie Armitage, Anna Aschliman, TJ Burleson, Cameron Michael Burns, Brittany Crowell, Jack Cummins, Dana Gal, Taylor Hollister, Kaitlin Marsh, Samara Seligsohn, Elisabeth Svenningsen
Running time: two hours
Tickets: $95 to $150 (depending on the night)

The Grand Paradise Theater Review: Bushwick’s Titillating Tropical Resort

“The Grand Paradise” can be a fun, hip and sensuous two-hour holiday with a cast of 20, all attractive, some barely clad, in a cleverly designed beach resort from the hedonist 1970s. It can also be a confusing and uncomfortable trip to a Bushwick warehouse dressed up to be a tacky tropical island, except without any of the sun or recreation or relaxation. Or it could be both.
Much as in a vacation, the show depends on chance – what night you’re seeing it (the cast members vary), whether the fates and the performers favor you — and, let’s face it, your own disposition for this kind of immersive theater.

Click on any photograph to see it enlarged


Will the cast be like geishas flirting silently or like counselors at an adult camp teaching you how to tie knots? Will you get drawn into a pillow fight; cuddle with a mermaid; happen to peek through the blinds at two apparently naked young men surreptitiously embracing? Or will you be placed in a coffin; stuck by yourself in a room (with all the doors closed) watching a cast member who seems to be sleeping; shut into a tiny room with nothing but a dressing room mirror, told via headphone to stare at yourself – “Look at your perfect skin. Look at your perfect brow.” Or both?
Will you be able to – or bother to – follow what comes closest to a plot, the arrival at this resort of a family of five and their various supposedly surreptitious erotic, violent and mind-bending adventures? Mom (on my night, Carly Berrett-Plagianakos) loosened up so much that she undressed and exchanged clothes with a sultry cabaret singer.
Or will you instead be distracted by – or prefer to focus on – the personal and often oddball encounters you have with the cast?
After the 60 theatergoers gave in our “boarding passes,” entered a narrow corridor and watched an “in-flight video” from “Finis Air” that informed us that we are not allowed to open doors that are shut, a door opened onto the first and largest room. A man in a Hawaiian shirt draped a lei around my neck. Minutes later, a woman in tropical attire removed the lei, and led me into a little room with four other theatergoers. She silently motioned for me to kiss a small wooden cup, then brought the cup to a bearded theatergoer and had him fill it from a bottle of liquid she had given him. Then she brought it back to me and motioned for me to drink it. I did so. Luckily, it was just water.
Then she repeated the routine – or should I say ritual – with wooden receptacles of increasing size until I was downing a large bowl of water, and wondering if there were any restrooms in this paradise.
Third Rail Projects, the company behind “The Grand Paradise,” also created “Then She Fell,” the hit immersive theater with an Alice in Wonderland theme which has been running for three years. There are some similarities. The set is full of meticulous attention to details. Many of the rooms have real beach sand; there is a Weeki Wachee kind of deep blue water tank in which some of the performers swim – particularly period details. The Time Magazines in the waiting room all date from the early 1970s, the jukebox in the bar has a list of 70’s songs. The actual music piped in continually is original, albeit infused with a familiar other-worldly zombie sound, like Grace Slick singing White Rabbit (which, yes, was the 1960’s not the 1970’s; I don’t think Third Rail was going for acoustical authenticity.)

Much of “The Grand Paradise,” like much of “Then She Fell,” consists of wordless interpretive dancing. To pick one of many, many examples, two of the tourists, now drunk at the Shipwreck Lounge engage in a skilled and stylized fight. Both shows employ a cast well-trained in physical theater and both sensitive and flexible in its  spontaneous interaction with the audience.

One difference could be crucial to your enjoyment. We arrive at “Then We Fell” knowing the context – it’s about Lewis Carroll, the author of Alice in Wonderland, and his relationship with Alice Liddell. There are all sorts of letters and postcards and photographs that illuminate this literary history, and even the oddest behavior of the cast is directly related to it: “Ah, that’s the Red Queen,” I suddenly realized long after I should have while watching a crazy dance by a lady in a red dress.
The context in “The Grand Paradise” is less specific (the 1970s), its cultural allusions less direct and less substantive (Fantasy Island comes to mind.)  In fairness, death and love are themes threaded throughout the show, mostly in 70s-style self-help monologues, where the characters talk about the choices one makes in life.  But overall the new show does less than “Then She Fell” to stimulate our curiosity and intellect, and it doesn’t seem designed to engage our emotions, at least not in the way good theater traditionally does. “The Grand Paradise” is not a parody; there was very little that’s funny, at least not intentionally, and when the cast isn’t being flirtatious they are as serious as acolytes engaging in sacred ritual, persuasively sincere in their 70’s New Age-speak. Actually, even the flirtation feels like ritual.
What’s on offer here may be a kind of faux-nostalgia, especially since the bulk of the audience for “The Grand Paradise” is unlikely to have been alive in the 70s, and a hip factor that may exert a kind of peer pressure.
The individual performance I may remember most vividly from “The Grand Paradise” occurred when a male cast member draped himself sensuously around a theatergoer, and then pulled her seductively through the main room to the bar, and began to dance with her, before abruptly scurrying away. I noticed that another theatergoer (besides myself) had followed all this, and that he had the world’s most uncomfortable-looking grin plastered on his face, as if trying to communicate to everybody and nobody that he was totally cool about somebody touching his wife.

The Grand Paradise
In a warehouse in Bushwick at 383 Troutman Street, Brooklyn, NY 11237
By Third Rail Projects
Artistic Directors
Zach Morris, Tom Pearson, Jennine Willett
Based on a Concept by Tom Pearson
Directed, Designed, Written and Choreographed by
Zach Morris, Tom Pearson, and Jennine Willett in collaboration with The Company
Cast (during the performance I attended)”

Mom – Carly Berrett-Plagianakos
Dad – Erik Abbott-Main
Older Daughter – Erika Boudreau-Barbee
Younger Daughter – Ashley Robicheaux
Boyfriend – Niko Tsocanos

Siren – Elizabeth Carena
Midas – Roxanne Kidd
Cabana Boy – Sebastiani Romagnolo

Venus – Jessy Smith
The Lady – Marissa Nielsen-Pincus
The Gentleman – Carlton Cyrus Ward

Jett – Rebekah Morin
Activities Director – Alberto Denis
Libertine – Bryan Strimple

Aqua Twin Girl – Elisa Davis
Aqua Twin Boy – Matthew Albert
Lifeguard – Zach Martens

William, a hustler – Edward Rice
Grace, a hustler – Katrina Reid
Farrah, a hustler – Julie Seal

Running time: 2 hours, no intermission.
Tickets: $95 to $150
The Grand Paradise is scheduled to play through March 31, 2016

Update: The Grand Paradise has been extended through December 31, 2016. This is the final extension.

Green Porno at BAM: Isabella Rossellini on Sex and the Single Snail

GreenPorno1“Why does sex exist?” asks Isabella Rossellini, the Parisian-bred actress, model and director, the glamorous daughter of the Hollywood star Ingrid Bergman and the European filmmaker Roberto Rossellini.

Her answer is a 75 minute lecture, both erudite and hilarious, animated by a series of short films familiar to fans of the Sundance Channel online, in which she acts out the reproductive habits of marine animals and insects.

Playing the role of a snail, wearing a costume she designed herself, she declares: “I can withdraw my entire body into my shell where I can hide my vagina and my penis. I have both!”

The show recalls the straight-faced running joke that threaded through Domesticated, Bruce Norris’s recent comedy at Lincoln Center about the aftermath of a political sex scandal, in which the politician’s youngest daughter Cassidy (Misha Seo) only speaks when she is presenting a school report, complete with (G-rated) slides and videos, about the unusual mating habits of various of earth’s species, from hyenas to pheasants to zombie worms. The zombie worm, Cassidy told us in a monotone, lives deep in the sea; the microscopic males of the species inhabit the body of the much larger female; in the future, Cassidy told us, the male zombie worms “will certainly disappear altogether.”

The slide show in Domesticated was meant as a unsubtle comment on the main action by the humans. But in Green Porno, the non-human sex acts are the main action; the only action. We don’t learn any more about the zombie worm but Rossellini does share with us the plights of the males in other species, such as the bee, which loses its penis after sex, and the praying mantis, who is eaten by his partner.

Green Porno: Live on Stage NY Premiere

Conceived and performed by Isabella Rossellini
Written by Isabella Rossellini and Jean-Claude Carrière
Staged by Muriel Mayette

BAM Fisher (Fishman Space, 321 Ashland Pl)
Jan 16, 17, 18, 21-25 at 7:30pm
Jan 18 & 25 at 2pm
Jan 19 at 3pm

Tickets start at $90
There are a limited number of $30 tickets available.