Review: MONSTERS OF THE AMERICAN CINEMA at Rogue Machine At The Matrix Theatre

The black and white creatures and weirdies that we see marching up buildings or emerging out of nowhere to terrify men and women (mostly women) are notable for their schlockiness (monster creation has come a loooong way since the dawn of that cinematic genre). But in those same projections artfully employed by Michelle Hanzelova-Bierbauer and Keith Stevenson at the Matrix Theatre, we also get snatches of Frankenstein, Dracula, the Wolfman and other creatures who look human or who were once human. MONSTERS OF THE AMERICAN CINEMA, a whip smart and heartfelt play by Christian St. Croix produced in its L.A. premiere by Rogue Machine Theatre, argues that in the present, monsters and human beings aren’t easily distinguishable from each other.  Monsters can take human form and vice versa. I guess that’s the…uh…the Thing?

MONSTERS examines the relationship between a 16-year old boy named Pup and Remy, the widower of Pup’s dead father who has become Pup’s de facto parent, and really the only important adult in his life. Remy is Black and gay; Pup is white and cisgender. Remy runs a drive-in movie theater outside San Diego, and he and Pup bond over the old horror movies that are one of the theater's specialties. In the course of 95 minutes, what feels like an authentic tight-knit relationship gets a major test.

By turns tender, angry and brutal, MONSTERS succeeds on multiple levels. The work turned in by actors Kevin Daniels and Logan Leonardo Arditty as a believable father and son isn’t just solid, it’s scarry good. Combing drama, pathos and even a few eeks!, director John Perrin Flynn orchestrates the proceedings like the crazy symphony that it most decidedly is.

In the rendering of Remmy and Pup’s trailer, scenic designer Stephanie Kerley Schwartz gets all the small town, working class details right. Christopher Moscatiello’s sound and Ric Zimmerman’s lighting help flesh out the picture. We’re squarely in a movie-lover’s version of real life.

St Croix drops us in on Pup (played by Arditty) and Remy (Daniels) at what appears to be a moment of stasis. Pup’s father died a few years ago of a drug overdose leaving Remy to figure things out as the new dad in charge. So they run the drive-in together with Pup taking occasional shifts at the concession stand or in the projection room. Remy and Pup love themselves some monster movies, and they can rattle off favorite creatures or actors. School-wise, Pup is preparing for the homecoming dance while a pleased-as-all-get-out Remy helps his kid get ready.

Not all is peaceful. As adoring and trustful of Remy as Pup is, he’s also a teen-ager who is not above rebellion. Remy is thinking about dating again, which Pup supports. We learn that Pup’s mother was also an addict who abandoned him when he was an infant. With his husband deceased, that leaves Remy. Then an incident happens at the dance that leads to a reckoning which forces Remy to become the parent he may not have bargained for.

As previously noted, we watch plenty of actual cinematic ghouls and creeps between the scene interludes. Pup himself has moments where he embraces his inner lycanthrope, turning into a beast (Arditty, who can also hop on top of tables, scared the stuffings out of the front row at the matinee I attended). Director Flynn interprets this tale as a metaphor for the effects of grief. Grief, to put not too fine a point on things, can brew inside and turn a human being into a monster (St Croix’s play also suggests that bigotry and homophobia have the same effect).

Daniels and Arditty are solid, both together and apart. In Remy, Daniels offers up a father who betimes acts admirably and cluelessly, but we’re in his corner the entire time, even when he's at risk of a major screw up. Remy has layers which Daniels – who knows his way around a monolog – taps.

Arditty’s Pup is stuck uncomfortably somewhere between man boy (OK, maybe and also werewolf). The kid has had it rough, and we don’t want to see things get worse. On the other hand, he’s also doing some pretty bad stuff. It’s no slam to say that these two people very much need each other.

And L.A. audiences need to see this production to see the terror of tenderness. Or maybe vice versa.

MONSTERS OF THE AMERICA CINEMA continues through May 19 at 7657 Melrose Avenue, L.A. 

Photo Credit: Kevin Daniels and Logan Leonardo Arditty by Jeff Lorch

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