Written and directed by J. Bajir Cannon, the fable-like love/sad is the story of a young pilot in the 1920s, in the era when flying a plane across the English Channel could attract media attention for a planned trans-Atlantic flight. Whimsically, elliptically, and beautifully told with a cast of 13 in various roles, the show integrates daring movement techniques with open-hearted songs (the lyrics are by Cannon and the music is Kabir Green, who also serves as musical director).
The tale of the pilot, played by Steven Guy, unfolds in a series of scenes at his home as he reassures his anxious wife (Daria Polatin) before taking off, and then from a state of limbo referred to as "the moon" as he struggles to return to her after a crash. His story is told in parallel with that of a Girl (Sara Bremen) he meets on the moon, who fell in love with a Prince (Chad Goodridge) secluded by his mother, the Queen (Jessica Weinstein), from any suitor who cannot properly answer a riddle. In the manner of Turandot, the Queen visits a deadly sentence upon failed applicants.
If this outline sounds reminiscent of a children's tale, it is one that contains some of the adult wisdom and wistfulness of Saint-Exupéry's The Little Prince. Comical moments interweave with poignant scenes; though the former are less frequent than one might wish, the Pilot and Girl wrap us in the magic of their adventure. They discuss love, longing, alienation, and desire as the large cast swirls about them, framing their remembered lives with eloquent gestures and drawing stage pictures with great inventiveness. At times, several long, wooden poles are used by actors to physically elevate others; this demands balance and focus that a gymnast would respect, as does the use of stilts in other scenes. Instead of appearing as a showy technique or contrivance, these touches contribute to the tone and impact of the piece, providing interesting metaphors for the mundane and the profound.
The song and movement elements of the piece blend extremely well, adding to the audience's involvement and sense of wonder at the proceedings. Throughout, I was reminded of the terrific techniques of another young company: The Flying Machine, which recently staged a piece at Soho Rep. What's interesting about Studio 42 is how organically this emerging aesthetic seems to have evolved within the company; there are no references in the program bios to study with luminaries such as the French movement master Jacques Lecoq, whose training has guided so many promising new talents. Regardless of its source, the refreshingly sophisticated approach is welcome and engaging.