The Storm - Blessed Unrest at Interart Theatre

There is a lot to like about Blessed Unrest's production of The Storm (by Aleksandr Ostrovsky, translated and adapted by Laura Wickens and directed by Jessica Burr), which runs through the middle of May at Interart Theatre.  The first thing I noticed was the use of the raw theater space, up to and including the little natural ledges common in brick buildings that were probably once-upon-a-time factories or warehouses.  The set design included, even in this small space, a river of water, one of the best uses of which was creating 'rain' visibly through one character working the ropes to allow tin cans with holes in them to dip into water and be lifted up - once in a small version and later in a multi-can version creating a rain storm of sorts.

I liked the choreography and the way the ensemble moved together in such a way as to create another kind of architecture along with the space.  This was enhanced by the costumes, which - like the theater space worked with various shades of red and tan colors, so that everyone seemed to somehow emerge from the earth of the floor (painted red, too).  This whole mise-en-scène made the piece seem organic to the place and gave it a rootedness that is unusual in more traditional theater venues, so hooray for that.

I won't give away the story but it has a fable-like quality, includes love, lust, and an evil leader of a town, deceit, confusion, adultery and an inheritance.  There are moments of great beauty and emotion, created through the visibility of the artifice rather than an attempt at its erasure.  There is an interesting sound score including at times a cacophony of sounds, voices, music (live and recorded) that I enjoyed a great deal.

The one problem I had with the production was nearer the end when this artifice gave way to a certain kind of naturalism that to my mind undercut the expressionistic quality I liked at the beginning.  There were interesting dance/movement sequences that I wished had continued, evolved perhaps into something even more chaotic or rambunctious rather than ending in emotive monologues.

This critique is of course a taste issue.  I am not a big fan of naturalism, as anyone who reads my criticism or sees my own work would know, and only really buy it if it's the only way that a certain piece can be performed and it's done impeccably (which, considering its prevalence as the American Acting Style, is kind of depressingly rare).  Also, I should add I saw the show's first performance, so some of these issues may resolve themselves with more time in front of an audience.

What I also liked was how the whole cast worked as an ensemble.  I loved the gender-bending casting.  Some performances that stood out were Jason Griffith as Feklusha ("a bride with two grooms") who did a lovely woman of a certain age drag routine with gorgeous choreography (and played the cello!) - this artifice never faded and as such had more emotional power for me than some of the other intentionally emotional moments in the play.  He and his 'grooms' (Dave Edson & Giorgio Pinetta) looked a bit like they were in a Pina Bausch piece that every once in a while took precedence here, their whole presence being that strong.  I loved Laura Wickens as Varvara, the pregnant spinster sister-in-law.  She had an unforced earthiness to her, along with a Brechtian awareness of an audience that creates the kind of precision in performance I enjoy.  For most of the play I liked Zenzelé Cooper's presence as Katrina.  Her naturalistic turn (which was the turn of the production at which she was the center) at the end was what I found a bit difficult to follow.  However, for the first 3/4 of the play she was able to play the usually difficult role of the ingenue with a vigor and wry clarity quite well.

All in all, this show is worth seeing because it is reaching for something without recourse to easy irony and even if I don't personally agree with every strategy, the project has great merit, is very well choreographed and designed and as such uses space well.  If you go to a lot of theater, you know how rare those qualities are.