Here's something you might be interested in.
In his excellent book about Vietnam, Dispatches (1977), Michael Herr weaves stark reality with brain-blasting absurdity. Since he was a journalist who didn't "have to be there," soldiers found him strange: "A GI would walk clear across a fire-base for a look at you if he'd never seen a correspondent before because it was like going to see the Geek, and worth the walk."
Amlin Gray's How I Got That Story (1979) is about a journalist in a Vietnam-like war. But - and maybe by design - he's the opposite of Herr. The Reporter, as he's called, hails from "western East Dubuque." As eager as he is gullible, The Reporter believes Am-bo Land is "every place," and if "I can just keep my eyes open I can understand the whole world."
But instead of covering the war, it "imprints" itself on him. He goes from naivety to native. In the end the only person who sees The Reporter cannot see at all.
To heighten the absurdity, Gray has one actor playing everyone The Reporter encounters. Gray calls the 20 or so characters The Historical Event. They appear as the reporter sees them.
Story's been called a 'nightmare comedy." Mo`ololo Performing Arts tweaks the comedy for all it's worth, but omits the nightmare.
Brian Bielawski (The Reporter) and Greg Watanabe (The Historical Event) give the pre-show announcements as exaggerated versions of themselves. Their big, boyish grins are obviously calculated to endear.
This ingratiating tone dominates the first act and much of the second. The staging prefers the cute to the dramatic (even when a monk immolates himself). As a result, scenes remain unconnected comedy sketches.
Bielawski and Watanabe are game performers. But The Reporter doesn't take things seriously until the end.
Of his 20 characters, Watanabe plays the males credibly, with varying degrees of macho. But the women have a cartoonish sameness, and encourage laughs instead of tears.
George Ye's sounds - noises and voices (all created by Watanabe) - provide an appropriately eerie background. Stephen Terry's lighting, the harsh reds in particular, balance the real and surreal to good effect.
Tenth Avenue Theatre, 930 Tenth Avenue, downtown, playing through March 18.
In his excellent book about Vietnam, Dispatches (1977), Michael Herr weaves stark reality with brain-blasting absurdity. Since he was a journalist who didn't "have to be there," soldiers found him strange: "A GI would walk clear across a fire-base for a look at you if he'd never seen a correspondent before because it was like going to see the Geek, and worth the walk."
Amlin Gray's How I Got That Story (1979) is about a journalist in a Vietnam-like war. But - and maybe by design - he's the opposite of Herr. The Reporter, as he's called, hails from "western East Dubuque." As eager as he is gullible, The Reporter believes Am-bo Land is "every place," and if "I can just keep my eyes open I can understand the whole world."
But instead of covering the war, it "imprints" itself on him. He goes from naivety to native. In the end the only person who sees The Reporter cannot see at all.
To heighten the absurdity, Gray has one actor playing everyone The Reporter encounters. Gray calls the 20 or so characters The Historical Event. They appear as the reporter sees them.
Story's been called a 'nightmare comedy." Mo`ololo Performing Arts tweaks the comedy for all it's worth, but omits the nightmare.
Brian Bielawski (The Reporter) and Greg Watanabe (The Historical Event) give the pre-show announcements as exaggerated versions of themselves. Their big, boyish grins are obviously calculated to endear.
This ingratiating tone dominates the first act and much of the second. The staging prefers the cute to the dramatic (even when a monk immolates himself). As a result, scenes remain unconnected comedy sketches.
Bielawski and Watanabe are game performers. But The Reporter doesn't take things seriously until the end.
Of his 20 characters, Watanabe plays the males credibly, with varying degrees of macho. But the women have a cartoonish sameness, and encourage laughs instead of tears.
George Ye's sounds - noises and voices (all created by Watanabe) - provide an appropriately eerie background. Stephen Terry's lighting, the harsh reds in particular, balance the real and surreal to good effect.
Tenth Avenue Theatre, 930 Tenth Avenue, downtown, playing through March 18.