by Jeff Grygny
If by chance you’re reading this review to decide whether or not this show is worth hunting for an obscure industrial lot on Fratney Street, to sit outside by a campfire and then huddle in an unheated warehouse for two hours—just stop reading and go see the show: it will probably be the most unforgettable, meaningful, and downright gob-smacking work of theater you’ve seen in many a year.
It’s not that Mr. Burns a post-electric play is especially controversial, topical, edgy, or avant-garde. The questions it raises won’t appear on the news; they won’t be discussed by pundits. But it will make you think and feel things that normally only haunt your midnight ruminations, or (if you’re very lucky) your rambling heart-to-heart chats with your closest and brightest buddies. With a first-rate cast under the impeccable direction of Leda Hoffman, it’s by turns hilarious and terrifying, quietly gut-wrenching, outrageously visionary and fabulously entertaining.
The events of the play are so unexpected, yet with such random internal logic, that to reveal them would only tarnish your sense of amazement. But it’s safe to say that the play begins not long after some horrendous mass-Chernobyl-like catastrophe has crashed the power grid, emptied out half the cities on the Eastern seaboard, collapsed all government, and reduced civilization to tiny bands of strangers huddled around open fires, treating any newcomers as deadly threats. Hysteria and grief are never more than heartbeats away. In this fraught setting, without any kind of media, they beat back despair by telling one another stories of their favorite TV shows. The stranded group we see has discovered that the cynical humor of The Simpsons—in particular one classic episode that parodies Cape Fear—makes them laugh uncontrollably. Playwright Anne Washburn’s conveys this entire scenario plausibly and economically, with minimum exposition.
The next scene skips forward a few years, with the remnants of civilization scraping together a post-electric way of life. Washburn skillfully shows how people yearn for the old world, their fantasies dwelling on consumer luxuries. Troupes of traveling players make their living recreating old TV shows and singing medleys of cheesy pop songs. We witness such a troupe in rehearsal—with all the messy collaboration and squabbling over artistic differences familiar to all theater folk.
The hallucinatory third act shows this same culture a generation later, and the less said about it the better. Suffice that it transforms the Cape Fear episode of The Simpsons into a foundational masterwork of the new civilization, blending Greek tragedy, grand opera, melodrama, and ritual into a stunning coup de theatre, realized as fully as you could wish, complete with original songs, executed with heart and panache.
Hoffman has successfully melded her cast into an organic ensemble. Kelly Doherty convinces us that her character is just barely holding it together; James Carrington is perfect as the guy who deals with grief by making people laugh; Dylan Bolin’s a capella rendition of “Three Little Maids From School” is a big hit, while Nick Narcisi’s gun-toting survivalist blossoms into a chorus boy. Rachael Zeintek transfigures Bart Simpson from a smart-ass brat into a wounded culture hero, and Erika Wade makes an adorable Marge Simpson. But nothing prepares us for the extraordinary appearance of Jordan Gwiazdowksi as the titular Mr. Burns. This rubber-limbed actor leaves no scenery unchewed in a wondrous, over the top interpretation of the living embodiment of deadly radiation, blending every campy villain from Captain Hook to Hannibal Lecter into one deliciously toxic cocktail.
The industrial atmosphere of the darkened warehouse contributes tremendously to the apocalyptic mood, with commercial detritus and shadowy vehicles lurking in darkness lit only by battery-powered lanterns and votive candles. Jason Fassl’s lighting brings just the right amount of spectacle, along with imaginative, well-crafted costumes by Andrea Bouck and Leslie Vaglia. Music Director James Kaplan blends the players into flawless harmonies, and provides perfect accompaniment to the grand finale. It can get a bit chilly in the warehouse, depending on the weather, so if you’re not gifted with natural insulation, long johns and/or a cozy blanket are good ideas. And you don’t have to be a big fan of The Simpsons or Cape Fear to appreciate the play—but it will add a steady stream of knowing snickers to your experience.
Ever since the scientific revolution, art has been commonly depicted as the frivolous sister to the “hard” disciplines of science, engineering, and business. Mr. Burns, a post-electric play recapitulates the evolution of theater, from literal campfire story to full-blown extravaganza. And more than any play in recent memory, it demonstrates—vividly, powerfully, poignantly— just how crucial art can be for carving meaning out of our strange and precarious existence, giving us reason to keep going, even in the face of the unthinkable catastrophes that can happen when big brother makes a bloody mess of things.
Don’t miss it.
Luminous Theatre Company presents
Mr. Burns, a post-electric play
by Anne Washburn
score by Michael Friedman, lyrics by Anne Washburn
directed by Leda Hoffman
Friday April 28 – 7:30pm
Saturday April 29 – 7:30pm
Sunday April 30 – 7:30pm
Monday May 1 – 7:30pm
Friday May 5 – 7:30pm
Saturday May 6 – 7:30pm
Sunday May 7 – 7:30pm
Monday May 8 – 7:30pm
The Goat Palace The Goat Palace
3740 N. Fratney Street
“Act 1 takes place outdoors around bonfire before the performance moves inside to an unheated warehouse. Dress warmly!”
“Performances are Pay-What-You-Can. Donations are accepted at the door.”