Hell hath no fury like hipsters on Halloween. The East Village, long a domain for crazed Halloween festivities, is not letting a mere few weeks of waiting get in the way of its chance to drink and be weird. The Red Room at the K.G.B. Bar, a New York hipster institution ever since it opened in 1993, is the perfect place for a bunch of irony-worshippers to drink a few beers, watch a couple of bizarre plays, and chat with artist types. Something Weird…In the Red Room, a Rachel Klein joint, is a pretty emblematic example of how this generation’s artsy-fartsy youth executes theater: a few good ideas, some indie rock background music, sporadic funny moments, and lots of intentional clichés. In Something Weird’s case, an otherwise enjoyable night of eccentric theater is marred by a lack of artistic and creative discipline.
Rachel Klein, who is quickly becoming a key player in all things weird off-off-Broadway, has found two plays that play to her strengths as a director: circus arts, ghouls, and twisted dramatic logic. Sir Sheever and Aenigma are two imperfect plays that should have made up in spirit what they lacked in meaty production values or narrative fulfillment. Benjamin Spiro’s Sir Sheever, a play where mannequins come alive to good manners in a freaky would-be tea party, is smarter and more complete than its counterpart. It’s also the more conventional of the two. A deceptively traditional play that still features some funny moments, Sir Sheever overcomes its rather lazy fairy-tale elements and dramatic inconsistencies with attitude and some sparkling performances, spearheaded by the Abbott and Costello meets Edward Gorey pair of leads in Bret Haines’ Ralph and Kari Warchock’s Miss Elise.
Two major things hold back Sir Sheever. First, and perhaps most surprisingly, is Klein’s loosey-goosey choreography. With most of the actors playing mannequins for the majority of the show, Sir Sheever would seem like perfect vehicle for some of the staged movement exercises you learn in elementary acting classes. Yet, while the core of the motions are correct, the mannequins are not stiff enough for anyone to take the shock value of their eventual movement seriously. Whether it be a product of the relative inexperience of the cast or a lack of discipline in Klein’s direction, the looseness of the mannequins results in a play that seems more fun for the company than the audience.
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