Although best-known for launching the movie-star careers of
Spalding Gray and Willem Dafoe, the Wooster Group is one of
the world’s foremost experimental theaters, famous for its
high-powered performers and high-tech design. The company
specializes in productions that bounce a dramatic classic off
of some wacky alternative text -- Thornton Wilder’s *Our
Town* meets Pigmeat Markham’s vaudeville routines, or Arthur
Miller’s *The Crucible* funneled through the reminiscences
of Timothy Leary’s babysitter. Although the company’s
founding members included the late Ron Vawter, who created the
legendary solo performance *Roy Cohn/Jack Smith*, the Wooster
Group has never dealt with overtly gay content -- until now.
Its newest production, which is playing at the company’s
home base in Soho, the Performing Garage, juxtaposes Gertrude
Stein’s *Dr. Faustus Lights the Lights* with scenes from a
corny 1964 soft-core porn film called *Olga’s House of
Shame*, about the lesbian proprietor of a sinister academy for
girls.
Unlike the company’s last
show -- a production of Eugene O’Neill’s *The Hairy Ape*
starring Dafoe that played on Broadway -- *House/Lights* is a
more abstract, intellectually challenging piece of theater. In
typical Wooster Group fashion, director Elizabeth LeCompte
arranges the stage as a steely landscape of video monitors,
sophisticated sound equipment, even a chic Indian woman
operating a laptop. This mechanical world is given life by the
actors. Central to the show is the virtuosic performance of
Kate Valk, who speaks almost the entire Stein text herself in
an intimate, electronically-filtered whisper. In its
dada-poetic way, Stein’s 1938 play (conceived as an opera
libretto) portrays a Faust who sells his soul to the devil in
exchange for the illusory thrill of electric light, which
symbolized fame to Stein and to LeCompte suggests high
technology, sex, and/or any material lust. The same actors
play figures from the Faust legend -- pop singer Suzzy Roche
makes a delicious Devil -- as well as characters from the
*Olga* film in a style closer to dance than to kitchen-sink
drama. Although there’s some very sexy lesbian interplay
(nipple-fondling and mock S/M), *House/Lights* is less of a
linear narrative than a dream-like meditation on the Faustian
bargain that we have struck with advanced media technology.
Give us cable TV, the Internet, and the history of the world
on video, and we’ll create a culture that jumbles everything
together -- God and the Devil and Shari Lewis and Lamb Chop --
in an alchemical stew, so it’s sometimes hard to tell
whether the result is shit or gold.
The Advocate, March 2, 1999
|