Lover. Muse. Mockingbird. Whore.
nytheatre.com review by Richard Hinojosa
April 16, 2011
I’m glad when they arrive
And I’m glad when they leave…
On the surface that sums up Charles Bukowski’s feelings about the women in his life and work, it is certainly what I understood them to be coming into this; but there are much deeper feelings that may not be as evident unless you really look for them. Austin McCormick sheds some light on these hidden feelings in this inspired new production that he subtitles “a dance/theatre meditation on Bukowski’s women.”
As we enter, the stage appears to be completely bare with the exception of white neon lights forming a large rectangle at center and a platform to the far left. On the right there is an area walled off with glass panes and closed blinds with a door in the middle. I assumed that that was just a dressing area. The neon lights flicker on and dancer Laura Careless finds her center and folds over it and rolls under it. A voice in the dark is heard reciting Bukowski’s work. Jeff Takacs enters holding an old microphone with a tinny, distant sound that matches his lethargic narration. The shadows creep across the stage and up the walls as Careless moves with lust and power through an opening dance that sets the somber mood for the entire piece.
Careless then moves to the back wall and opens a cabinet of wigs. She transforms. Takacs moves into the walled-off area and as he speaks we see his image projected on the blinds. He sits in a sloppy apartment room smoking and speaking Bukowski’s words as Careless moves to open the blinds, revealing the entire room. He moves to her, speaking a poem about horses and whores. She spreads dirt along the front of the stage and proceeds to crawl through it and kick it up in the air like a cat burying a poo. She dances to him, taking a dominant position over him while letting him move his hands over her. As her clothes begin to come off the air is filled with dust and lust.
That’s just the first 15 minutes or so of this extraordinary production. McCormick has once again defined theater in his own terms. He mixes projection and film with dance and poetry in a manner that you will not soon forget. There is a power play going on between Takacs and Careless as they push and pull each other and struggle for dominance. One thing that you will begin to realize is that Bukowski’s women held the power over him the whole time. They were in control and all he could do was try to pretend he could never love them. McCormick’s choreography is sexy and angular. It tells the story of strength and vulnerability as we see Bukowski’s weaknesses become nightmarish.
Careless is an amazing dancer. She can express volumes with an arching of her back or turn of her wrist. I found myself staring at her every movement, drawn in not only by her sex appeal but also by her remarkable control over every muscle and bone in her long, thin body. Takacs makes Bukowski’s words his own. He embodies the poet’s stark, sarcastic look at the world. He never once slips into poetry reading mode. He very much is Bukowski in this production.
The projections and sound are integral to the piece. Jamie Nesbitt does great work with the projection design and McCormick does the sound. The lights, courtesy of Gina Scherr, are shadowy and moody.
McCormick and his production company, Company XIV, are producing some of the most innovative and exploratory theater that I’ve seen. This production certainly achieves its goal of bringing to light Bukowski’s treatment of women, but it goes even further to bringing New York audiences closer to a pure theater experience that is devoid of commercialism and self indulgence. It surely is not to be missed.
