What the hell is a 'Publican?'
Rating: 4
Death and the Publican
KC Fringe Festival
It's a barkeep, or the manager of a pub, to be more specific. I suppose not all publicans tended their own bars, but the one in Bill Rogers' "Death and the Publican" does, and a good thing too.
Directed by Diane Bulan, this romp through the ethereal plane is a fascinating, almost irreverent were it not so profound, examination of the one philosophical argument that will never fully be answered. "What's the point?"
The entire play takes place in a pub where it's always eight p.m., and the drinks are always free. Kinda.
The set was simple, and effective. It was very well lit, and the blocking was nice. I say that because I hate to see people moving about with no sense of purpose or, dare I use the word, motivation. I did dare. I'm not proud. This production had none of that, thank god, or whomever. Thank you Diane. There.
Let's have a look at our cast.
There's the "Publican," played by the cuddly and ever so amiable Jack McCord. One of the hardest things an actor can do is listen, and McCord handles that challenge with ease. Listening is kind of what his character is about. He has an interesting style of acting too. I dare say the theater is a rodeo with which he is well familiar, as his technique is very theater specific. Now, I haven't seen a lot of his work, but I have a feeling, it's just a feeling now, that he can do an excellent impersonation of Jack Nicholson. He wasn't doing an impersonation, in fact his character was fully realized, unique, and well performed, but there's something about the timbre of his voice, the odd phrasing, that reminded me, if briefly, of Jack Nicholson. Just a thought.
Then there's "Death." Marcie Ramirez slinks about in a tasteful black suit (I think it was a suit. It was a skirt, blouse and jacket. Not being familiar with female clothing classification methods, I'm calling it a suit), and fishnets, and at times, sock monkey slippers. Here is where the irreverence comes in. Her performance was charming, and she seems to shrug off her own omnipotence, and seemed to have long grown weary of the human need for personal immortality. She gave a lovely, subtle performance, worthy of note. That tends to be how she rolls. There was one thing that I both liked and didn't understand. Her character seemed to be a germaphobe. She wore a breathing mask at first, presumably because the environment outside the pub was not ideal, and spent a lot of time sterilizing her hands with goop out of a rather large bottle of Purell. It made for a nice independent action, but really didn't serve the story, as it wasn't explained. It was just there. I liked that it!
was there, I just didn't understand why.
Victor Hentzen plays "The Twice Mortal Man." Victor is a big guy, and I love to see big men play roles with exuberance, spirit, energy and bravado. It was a nice meaty (pardon the pun) character that looked like a blast to play. He handled his monologues with ease, and he was a pleasure to watch.
The rest of the cast, "Sebastion," played with wonderful innocence by Aaron Smithson, "Loud woman," played with excellent subtlety, if with low volume by Linda Levin, Nicole Hall, whose broken heart and conservative nature rang out brilliantly as "Sad Woman," and Richard Gorell, whose desperate lamentations of a life without adventure culminated in a lovely open, personal moment as "Big Man." Well, they each had their moment to shine, and they handled themselves very well indeed.
All in all, this is the theater I expect to come out of a community that has vast resources of talent. Not every fracas is a victory, I get that, but this one shines in content, direction and performance. Should they tighten it up, just a little bit, it'll deserve the five out of five rating I desperately would like it to have.
read the review at KC Stage
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