Kenneth Lonergan’s “This Is Our Youth” is an appropriate choice
for the first theatrical project produced by new local art performance troupe
Method Machine. The play has become one of the go-to scripts for Gen X/Y actors
looking to establish some cred. (Young Hollywood luminaries Matt Damon, Jake Gyllenhaal,
Casey Affleck, Hayden Christensen, Anna Paquin, and Alison Lohman have
performed in various stagings.) And its nihilistic, yet thoughtful, concepts
fall right in line with an upstart art collective tasked with pushing beyond
conventional thinking. It’s a smart choice and a smart production, with just a
few bumps along the way.
One of Method Machine’s stated goals is to stage performances in
unconventional venues. It has certainly done that with “Youth,” which
over its 10-show run is slated to play in a hair salon, a South Wedge bar, and
a business office. The show I saw took place at Fusion Salon on Park Avenue,
and the group did an amazing job transforming the fairly
compact space into a fully functioning theater – the intentionally messy
bedroom set was delineated by a low, cut-off sheet rock “wall,” and
the audience sat in stools, office chairs, barber chairs, and even shampooing
chairs (which, come to think of it, were even more comfortable than the
standard stiff theater seats).
It’s easy to see why actors love “This Is Our
Youth.” It features only three characters and virtually no action
whatsoever, making chemistry and rhythm vitally important to its success. The
Method Machine featured plenty of the former, something less of the latter.
The story focuses on three young adults living in New
York City in 1982. Stoner-slacker Dennis’s peaceful
day of watching shitty television in his shitty apartment is ruined when his
irritating friend Warren invites himself over after getting kicked out of his
father’s house for being, well, a stoner-slacker. But Warren
didn’t leave empty-handed; he relieved his father of $15,000 in cash Warren
found in one of his dad’s briefcases. Suddenly Dennis is less annoyed by Warren’s
arrival, and the two discuss how to spend some of the money. Option 1: drugs;
option 2: girls; option 3: drugs and girls. They ultimately choose the third
option, and invite over Dennis’s unseen girlfriend and her friend Jessica, the
object of Warren’s affections.
Dennis and his girl take some of the money to buy drugs while Warren and
Jessica stay behind to get to know one another. And that, predictably, is where
things get complicated.
The play’s first act sets up the
fascinating characters and weaves in even more interesting themes.
Dennis is a raging egotist and bully who largely keepsWarren around to abuse so that he
can boost his own confidence, and avoid his reality as the rudderless product
of a well-to-do family and a controlling, emasculating mother. Warren
is a needy, totally self-conscious gnat haunted by the murder of his older
sibling and unable to let go of any part of his past because of it. And Jessica
is a young fashion student wise beyond her years philosophically, but painfully
naive when it comes to real-life interactions. Through various conversations
and conflicts the trio addresses (or avoids) issues of holding on to the past,
forming a personal identity, sloughing off former selves, the failures of
previous generations, and the crippling malaise that comes with being a kid
given everything and asked for little in return.
The three Method Machine members are the stars of the show, and have known
each other for years. Those real-life bonds are evident in the on-stage
dynamics. Michael Francis O’Connor is powerful as Dennis. He seethes across the
stage, always a split second from flying into a rage over the most meaningless,
unintentional triggers. His barely suppressed rancor occasionally, yet
believably, slips into moments of extreme vulnerability. David
Henderson infuses Warren
with an abundance of awkward tics – you fully believe that this character is
totally incapable of any kind of adult relationship with anyone. And Marcy J.
Savastano maximizes her limited stage time as Jessica with her natural,
endearing performance.
The play struggles a bit in its pacing and rhythms. Since there is really no
action to speak of, it’s solely up to the actors and the dialogue to keep
things moving, and there were patches where things started to lag, especially
in the second act. A laconic pace actually reflects the directionless teens’
reality almost perfectly, but it makes for a less exciting viewing experience.
This Is Our Youth
Method Machine
Through February 23
Various locations
877-865-1896, myspace.com/methodmachine
This article appears in Feb 13-13, 2008.
