My 2012 Capital Fringe Festival journey continues.
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JESUS LE MOMO
I don’t know who this newcomer Adi Stein thinks he is, but his knowledge of my past, expressed in his latest theatrical adventure proves him to be the most evil human being humanity has ever seen. And stop! Whoever you might be thinking of as a successful trump to his evil, forget it, you are wrong, Mr. Stein is far more nefarious.
How on earth did he know that I was once visited by the evil spirit of Antonin Artaud? How did he know Artaud then forced me to perform his newest theatrical endeavor? How did he know Artaud was actually a woman named Liz with intoxicating physical ability? I am terrified of this twisted charlatan’s cripplingly devious knowledge! The only aspect of my life this “play” didn’t portray was how “ghost Artaud” made me a cup of whale milk tea, sang me Belgian lullabies, and shaved a question mark into my chest hair. But other than that, it was as if Stein read my mind!
It is clear that Liz Salamon is the prime accomplice to Stein’s villainous debauchery. She weaves her debilitating sorcery with gleefully manic aplomb, like a morphine-addicted vulture clown preparing to consume my steadily rotting carcass. I told her after the show ‘you have violated every cell of my aching frame, glass princess’ (I was an embarrassing heap of wasted ash and dust, on my knees) but all she said was ‘Thanks?’.
I have two new enemies.
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SWEET PAINTED LADY
This is a story so familiar to anyone who’s ever owned a painting of a woman. At some point, that painting is going to come to life and try to eat your soul. In the case of this play, the painting aims to seduce you and ruin your life, but the less than subtle undertones were soul-consumption.
Michael Perrie Jr. (Jack) and Mo O’Rourke (Delia) play a couple who live in an apartment with no bedroom and invisible doors and windows. Perrie the second (Jack) has headaches because O’Rourke’s character talks to him too much. So he takes magical pills. That’s where my comprehension ended. Emily Deveron Vere Nicoll (Lady in Blue) plays the Lady in Blue. I don’t trust anyone with four names, so when she proved to be an insatiable succubus that comes to life from a painting, I knew all was lost and held tightly to my pocket watch and my trousers.
I left with the taste of salt and despair on my tongue. And I’d only had the taste of despair when I entered.
But what perplexed me most, my children, was Michael Perrie Jr. played the lead character and was also the playwright, and he’d written a role for himself where he gets to share saliva repeatedly with beautiful women who wear little more than underwear, under where their nakedness awaits. What a saint! What a sacrifice! Rather than forcing some other poor sod of an actor to withstand the advances of two attractive females, he took on the duty himself and showed his selflessness. Rumor has it his next play involves three cheerleaders repeatedly telling him how beautiful he is while massaging his entire body with honey and yogurt, and then taking a shower with him on a beach made of rose petals. He truly is the Saint Francis of Assisi of DC Theatre.
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The only thing I hate more than art is walking art.
When I approached the box office, was handed a map, and a listening device, I realized what Banished? Productions were asking of me and exclaimed “I loathe all of you with a passion even God couldn’t describe” . . . the box office attendant simply smiled, maniacally giggled, and squeaked “Fringe!”
In ‘The Circle’ you go for a walk with a group of Satanists around parts of Washington DC, while listening to a summoning spell on something called an “Eye Pod”. The devil’s tour has something to do with a circle, and restaurants, and culture, and history. Your tour guide (this is certainly not a trusted Virgil, but rather a callous harlequin, destined to torture your too addled brain and force you to sweat) seems pleasant enough at first, but then takes you on a hellish journey around a park, showing you books (the sign of the beast), and people (servants of the beast), and black and white photographs (THE BEAST!).
The story you listen to syncs so deliberately with your walk that Banished? are clearly magicians of the highest order and must be stopped with swiftest attention.
Good Hades readers, one of my fellow tourists touched me, reached for my hand as indicated to do so by our terrifying guide. She spun (span? spinned? spon?) when he spun, walked like a constipated elephant when he did, and then reached for my hand! She was clearly swept up in the evil spell of Banished? for she had no idea who I am and had a look of delighted sickness in her eyes!
When we’d finished our walking tour, I told our guide “You sir, are a filthy heathen roustabout, and I will not rest until your efforts to cultivate a nostalgic and spiritual bond with an historic DC landmark are defeated!” He smiled, and said “Will you fill out this survey?”
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More reviews written with my blood in electronic form tomorrow . . .