BOSTON HERALD REVIEW
`Bash' brings everyday evil to surface
by Robert Nesti
`Thursday, October 12, 2000
Neil LaBute established himself as America's most misanthropic filmmaker
with just two films - ``In the Company of Men'' and ``Your Friends and
Neighbors.'' With ``Bash,'' a trio of one-acts having its Boston
premiere by the TheatreZone, he brings that cynicism to the stage.
This heady experience shouldn't be missed by those who crave edgy,
provocative theater. LaBute pushes the envelope in shocking ways, and
with the most minimal of terms. The evening is composed of monologues
spoken on a bare stage; the power is in the text and in the
performances, which are all first-rate.
In ``Bash,'' subtitled ``Latter Day Plays,'' LaBute explores the
banality of evil - how bad things can be perpetrated by seemingly good
people in everyday situations. LaBute's characters are Mormons. (He
converted to that religion while at Brigham Young University, about the
same time he wrote the first draft of these plays.) But the plays are
more a suggestion that anyone is capable of these horrors than an
indictment of that religion's clean-cut image. The world, as one
character points out, is clearly out of joint.
In the opening and closing plays he makes allusions to Greek myths. In
one he draws a parallel to Agamemnon; in another to Medea. But you
needn't know these classical antecedents to appreciate these plays -
LaBute's contemporary versions stand on their own.
In the first, ``Iphigenia in Orem,'' a convivial businessman tells the
heart-wrenching story of the death of his young daughter. In the last,
``Medea Redux,'' a 30-ish woman calmly confesses to the police a
horrific revenge she took on a teacher who seduced her when she was 13.
In between is ``A Gaggle of Saints,'' in which two Boston College
students tell of a trip to Manhattan for a Mormon social event. In it,
John, a WASPish young man, boasts of how he participated in a vicious
gay bashing, unbeknownst to Sue, his dimwitted fiancee.
Much of the power of these pieces comes from LaBute's evocative writing,
which recalls David Mamet in its intensity. He's certainly manipulative,
drawing you into sympathizing with these characters before revealing
their shocking crimes. These are the kind of people demonized on the
evening news, but in LaBute's hands they become more human, and the
moral ambiguity stays with you after leaving the theater.
TheatreZone's bare-boned production in the tiny Actors Workshop space is
the best by this young company to date. Under the exacting direction of
Danielle Fauteux Jacques, the four actors superbly embody their
characters. Michael Capelli brings a warmth and vulnerability to the
chatty businessman; as the latter-day Medea, Danielle L. DiDio confesses
her crime with a striking lack of passion; and Lara T. Hakeem and
Nathaniel MacIntyre are perfectly cast as the privileged college
students who would be right at home in an episode of ``Dawson's Creek.''
BOSTON GLOBE REVIEW
'Bash' digs beneath virtue
By Ryan McKittrick, Globe Correspondent, 10/10/2000
Were it not for Neil LaBute's nuanced structuring of surprise and suspense, ''Bash'' would have the familiar ring of the evening news headlines. LaBute, who recently directed the hit movie ''Nurse Betty,'' has a reputation for making gruesome acts of violence get under the skin of even the most calloused of spectators. His controversial film ''In the Company of Men'' exposes the anger and aggression boiling beneath the saccharine surface of American optimism.
''Bash'' uses Mormonism as a deceptive veneer of virtue that veils the characters' vicious acts of hate, selfishness, and revenge. LaBute's play engages the audience more intimately than his films do, using one coup de theater after another to shock, disturb, and disorient. Under the direction of Danielle Fauteux Jacques, the TheatreZone actors make this manipulative meditation a startling break from routine accounts of violence.
The play is composed of three scenes in which the characters address an imaginary listener. Two of the scenes reference some of the most harrowing examples of premeditated murder in western literature. In ''Iphigenia in Orem,'' a traveling businessman describes the death of his infant daughter. In ''Medea Redux,'' a young woman confesses her elementary-school love affair with her teacher. Placed between these two modern takes on Euripidean tragedy, ''A Gaggle of Saints'' concerns a college couple's weekend trip to a high school bash in Manhattan. As John relates the brutal events of the weekend, Sue's chipper recollections create a counterpoint of almost willful oblivion.
For the first half of each scene, the script keeps the audience in the dark. The characters give almost no indication of where they are leading the audience. Suddenly, a twist in the plot emerges like a blind curve, forcing the audience to reevaluate the character and everything he or she has said. The tables turn: The audience suddenly sees everything, while the characters slip into states of self-delusion. In unison with the transformations of the plot, images of water, rings, and bloodstains resurface throughout the stories, provoking the audience to rethink the deceptive logic of LaBute's game.
LaBute, who converted to Mormonism during college, is bashing the hypocrisy and sense of self-righteousness within his own religious organization. His position as both a devout believer and a critic gives him a unique voice that is simultaneously blasphemous and deeply moralistic. But his criticisms extend beyond his own church.
Even though three of the four characters are specifically identified as Mormon, their materialism, homophobia, and chauvinism tap into the sicknesses of a larger society. Minus a few references to the church, these characters might hail from any American region, not just the shores of Great Salt Lake.
The TheatreZone cast had a tough act to follow. ''Bash'' premiered last year in New York with Calista Flockhart, Paul Rudd, and Ron Eldard, a triumvirate that went on to make a compelling television adaptation. But for the most part, the TheatreZone actors, especially Michael Capelli and Nathaniel McIntyre, precisely execute the hesitations, colloquialisms, and peripeteias that make LaBute's monologues and images valuable vexations.
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