FringeNYC 2015: A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again; #Ouch!; Van Gogh F*ck Yourself
(photo courtesy of the production)
A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again
In 1995, the writer David Foster Wallace went on a cruise to the Caribbean. The result was his mordantly funny Harper's Magazine article "Shipping Out," later retitled "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again." The 25-page essay, which reads more like a novella than a journalistic exposé, followed his experiences on this luxury trip. It explored, in his typically idiosyncratic fashion, how tiring it is to spend a week staring out at the ocean, eating gourmet meals, and doing absolutely nothing.
With permission from the late Wallace's literary trust, the writer and performer Christopher Duva has adapted "A Supposedly Fun Thing…" into a 90-minute solo show. The result is as close to a tour de force as anyone's ever seen: Duva plays the eternally bandana-ed Wallace and all of the other characters who make appearances on this massive ship to nowhere. He switches back and forth between personas with breakneck speed, reciting the wordy, tongue-twisting text with a similar deftness.
Wisely, Duva makes judicious cuts to the original material, though nothing noticeable to the uninitiated. Designer Chris Muller provides the tongue-in-cheek projections and sound, while director Suzanne Weber keeps the piece moving swiftly. Those who have been on a luxury cruise like the one Wallace describes will likely have a greater appreciation for the piece than those who have not. However, everyone will agree on one thing: Duva is a hell of a performer who brings Wallace's work to life in a deliriously entertaining fashion.
Maryedith Burrell is a performer whose name you don't recognize, but whose face you remember instantly. She was one of the prolific television guest stars in the 1980s and 1990s, appearing on shows ranging from Newhart and Family Ties to Seinfeld and Home Improvement. For the past several years, she's been living in Ashville, North Carolina, and performing with a local troupe, the Magnetic Theatre. Together, they're collaborating on her new solo piece, #Ouch! (An Accidental Comedy), running at the 64E4 Mainstage. The title is an exclamation of pain. Fortunately, the show is not.
The show is set in the wake of a freak accident involving her beloved dog, which left Burrell with a fractured knee. Surgery followed, as did an extended hospital and rehab stay. What Burrell didn't expect, though, was the battle she would have to wage for respect, from both the healthcare workers (ready to snap iPhone photos of her wounds at a moment's notice) and her insurance company (which took its sweet time with her case).
Burrell is an easygoing performer whose inherent warmth is on display throughout the show's hour-long duration. In fact, she's so friendly that, a lot of the time, you forget you're watching a play. It's much more like a small gathering and we're just hearing her stories over dinner. The piece itself is a bit scattershot — we never really find out precisely how her dog attacked her, for instance — but she does build to a larger, more meaningful point about how difficult it is to deal with the inner workings of the U.S. healthcare system. In this situation, that's the real ouch.
(photo courtesy of the production)
All roads lead to the ear. The legendary story claims Van Gogh sliced it off in a fit of insanity after a fight with fellow artist Paul Gauguin. New scholarship says it was actually Gauguin who sliced it off with a sword during an argument. Either way, Vincent Van Gogh is upset with how obsessed people are with the incident.
And yet, matters of the ear play a prominent role in Walter DeForest's Van Gogh F*ck Yourself, an hour-long bio-play at the 64E4 Underground space. Over the course of the show, the painter himself regales us with stories from his tortured existence, starting with his monastery background, and ending, of course, with his suicide by self-inflicted gunshot wound.
With a long red beard, it's uncanny how much DeForest resembles the Van Gogh we've seen in self-portraits. He's a captivating performer who, as guided by director Laurence Lowry, knows how to capture and hold the audience's attention. He makes generous eye contact with nearly everyone in the room, studying us as closely as we're studying him. Unfortunately the text does live up to that same careful scrutiny. There are too many jarring anachronisms (including Van Gogh being called a "ginger," which seems pretty contemporary), as well as several false endings featuring characters other than Vincent that are too hard to follow.
DeForest also provides himself with a nigh-impossible goal: surpass a title that's as good as Van Gogh F*ck Yourself. While it really doesn't have anything to do with the play itself, he makes a valiant effort to slice it to fit. The result doesn't quite work, yet you can't help but applaud his creativity and notice that his ears are still intact.
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