BASH
at the Playwrights’ Center
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As the two Boston College socialites, Mark Rector and Elyse Mirto play an excellent game of dueling monologues, replaying the same story from different vantage points. Both smile broadly as they recall their anticipation of a “great” night and a time when they were head-over-heels romantic. But as their juxtaposed lines reveal, “romantic” doesn’t necessarily mean deep love or kinship. Sue smirks as she recalls the impression she made in her black taffeta dress that weekend. John’s eyes glaze over with adoration as he remembers the dress too–as black rayon. It isn’t just that he doesn’t remember the material but that perhaps he doesn’t know Sue either. Does he realize, for instance, that when they first met, Sue flirted with him even though she knew her boyfriend was due at any time, in essence setting him up for a fight? Does he know about the guy Sue dated while he was away one summer?
The scariest part of Labute’s indictment is that no one is innocent.
Unfortunately this production, directed by Fred Kuhr, often emphasizes the ridiculousness of Fritz’s scenarios. The affectedly quaint set (designed by Jim Cicero) is decorated with a doll, a rocking horse, and other toys: it’s hardly likely that an elderly woman would keep ancient playthings in a room she’s been renting out for years. Clarissa is equally affected as played by Susan Skolfield, an obviously young woman hamming it up with false gray hair, frumpy housecoats, and a whiny, tremulous voice. Skolfield overdoes the decrepit bit, walking bent over and moaning extraordinarily with the strain of lifting a couch cushion.
