God is a DJ

The programs handed out for the second production — don’t call it a sophomore effort! — of the bold Theater Faction are vintage vinyl LPs repackaged so as to feature the company’s signature neon-orange branding. Biographical information about the crew can be found on the album sleeve along with assorted quotations from such contemporary thinkers as Naomi Klein (No Logo) and Posh Spice (Spice World). The company critiques consumerism in the language of consumerism for an audience of consumers; theatergoers can buy the art retro set pieces in the lobby after the show and are instructed to keep the records inside the programs. (I got an Otis Redding album.)

Falk Richter’s God is a DJ follows a man (“He”) and woman (“She”) who, from their chic studio loft, mass market themselves by selling videotaped segments of their lives to art galleries at $2,000 a pop. Unlike the subjects of most reality shows, they have full control over their digital cameras. Live images from these cameras are projected onto screens at the rear of the stage and are also seen on two onstage computer monitors.

Although the show is repetitious and tedious at times, Richter and his colleagues understand voyeurism at its core. Viewers are willing to suffer through long silences and uninteresting conversation for the promise of eventual excitement; an argument may break out, a bra strap may get loosened, or a long-standing romance may fall apart. (To reveal whether any of this actually happens would do a great disservice to the production.) The truly banal can sometimes be thrilling and I found it difficult to keep still in my seat while watching the couple dance to Guns N Roses‘s “Sweet Child of Mine” for the song’s entire length of nearly six minutes. (No, the director does not edit this or any other segment for the sake of brevity.)

Like so many artistic endeavors today, all of this is meant to blur the lines between art and “real life,” but God is a DJ never feels weighed down by pretension or self-importance. Although the characters make some insipid observations about the nature of cool and sweeping proclamations about the “end of fiction,” these statements are not meant to be taken seriously. The mockery isn’t mean-spirited in the style of, say, Joe Millionaire; “He” and “She” are likeable and even vulnerable.

More than a spoof of the reality TV craze, God is a DJ examines the effect of consumer culture on identity. Whereas docudramas of the 1960s (along with more recent ones like The Laramie Project and The Exonerated) record snippets of conversation and reconstruct a real events, God is a DJ shows how, in an age in which identity is branded and mass-produced, truth becomes a casualty. As “He” and “She” perform for the cameras and the audience, they are haunted by false memories.

The fiction-versus-reality theme extends beyond the actual show: Both actors maintain a weblog that surfers can access by clicking here. The live diary of Sarah Fraunfelder (“She”) reveals that filmmaker-photographer Cindy Sherman may have inspired her character, while Timothy Ryan Olsen’s diary invites every visitor to be his Friendster. Actress Nina Egli is hilarious in the small role of a “psychoanalyst/jeweler” interviewer also named Nina, and her program tells us that she does, in fact, design jewelry in addition to her acting, dancing, and filmmaking pursuits. Oh, and God is a DJ takes place at St. Mark’s Church, the home of Richard Foreman’s Ontological-Hysteric Theatre.

Fraunfelder starred as Electra in Theater Faction’s inagural production, Oresteia, and a Jungian psychologist might say that her character in God is a DJ has an Electra complex — which becomes clear late in the show. Although she appears to be the company’s resident femme fatale, this actress plays the funny girl as convincingly as the sex kitten. Olson plays the stilted bohemian well and has great onstage chemistry with Fraunfelder.

In terms of daring and professionalism, Theater Faction is a standout among young theater companies. Artistic director Yuval Sharon has translated Richter’s text from its original German and has freely adapted the script for this American premiere; Sharon directed a portion of Theater Faction’s first show excellently and this new production proves that he is a director to watch. Erik Nelson’s sleek video installations are impressive and his trance music’s deadening rhythms hint at the sanitized lives of the play’s subjects. Many designers, from video editors to costumers, have created the surroundings from which the characters get their spiritual nourishment; to find out who they are, pick up the album at the box office.