by Phillip Andrew Bennett Low • July 28, 2008 • Here’s a production that absolutely delivers on the promise of its show description – a “physically daring ensemble-created show” – in spades. It has singing and dancing. It has falls and leaps and rolls. It has a catchy soundtrack and countless object manipulations.
Some of these are very cool, and very tightly-plotted: others feel aimless, emerging from nothing and dissolving into nothing. There were at least a few sequences where I was watching objects moving through space and had no sense what was going on. They’re all unquestionably physically impressive, and it feels a bit churlish to pick apart a performance that’s working so aggressively to entertain you.
Some people are going to call this a masterpiece, and I don’t think that it is: there’s really not much more to it than a kind of generalized ridicule of militarism, a sort of live-action political cartoon. But it has the frenetic, kinetic energy of a cartoon; it turns around and continually surprises you; there are several moments that merited gasps and applause. It’s very possibly the most consistently entertaining hour in the Fringe, and that’s not nothing.
Phillip Andrew Bennett Low (firstname.lastname@example.org) is a playwright and poet, storyteller and mime, theatre critic and libertarian activist, who lurks ominously in the desert wilds of St. Louis Park, feasting upon the hygienically-prepared flesh of the once-living. His main claim to fame is probably as co-founder of the Rockstar Storytellers, and as founder/producer of Maximum Verbosity, a garage-band-like theatre troupe that is in a state of constantly re-defining itself.