Review: STUPID F***ING BIRD Embodies New Form at The Cell

The Cell Theater's equity theater company, Fusion, is now playing "Stupid F***ing Bird," a new (as of 2013) tragi-comedy written by Aaron Posner that comments on its newness by embodying the skin of its ancestor, Chekov's "The Seagull." The plot's faithful to the old play, to some extent--featuring modern technology, yet maintaining Chekov's now-classic, subtext-building structure (scenes of revelation and direct conflict, countered with scenes of social appearances and unspoken desire). But Posner isn't afraid to let the skin of the old theater hang loose, or bulge, on the body of the new: 120 years have changed things, after all. So Posner asks us to measure the stretch-marks and wrinkles, and determine not only the shape of this change, but also what this change might mean for our future.

The actors often break the fourth wall, to help us with our measurements. They offer funny, impassioned, intelligent commentary: About Posner's play, Chekov's "Seagull," the audience, the state of the world-at-large...ranting and wild, these ideological commentaries severely divert the action of the plot. Yet the show holds our attention throughout, because the actors commit as much to their ancient characters as they do to the contemporary admission that, "I'm fictional!" They navigate this divide, between Chekovian realism and postmodern meta-narration, as one would navigate any natural barrier: They find a way through it. Though split between asides and scenes, they do not split themselves.

This 'split' is most-pronounced for actor Harrison Sim, who plays not only the fictional "Con," but also seems to be the playwright himself--yet is not two characters. This is a uniquely new challenge: While Chekovian actors only had to account for the reality within the play, Sim has to account for all reality--in the play, and out. Sim only stumbled between the fiction/non-fiction gap once: A scene where he's tearing copies of the actual script while crying about his fictional mother. Here, he's embodying two dramas, each within its own incompatible reality; unfortunately, Sim doesn't compensate for this excess of drama, so his emotional reaction is over-the-top. I mention this weak point to demonstrate the nature of his challenge; but otherwise, Sim was solid--a rare liaison for the audience, as believable in-scene as out.

So the play requires a uniquely new form of acting, but not in a complicated way. In fact, this new form is so simple, the audience doesn't need drama or commentary to recognize it. In one magic moment in the play, Con asks the audience what he should do next. On the night I went, two people spoke up and gave better acting advice (I assume, spontaneously) than Posner or Chekov could've ever written: "Listen," they said, and "be yourself."

The ensemble seems to take the advice, and they shine with simple, candid awareness: Jacqueline Reid is frank and straightforward in her portrayal of "Emma," turning Con's unlikable mother into the most relatable character in the play; "Sorn" is a convincing enigma because actor John Dennis Johnston chooses to stay with his character's confusion, not pre-determining the answers; and the tech design equips the ensemble well, with elegant light cues and costumes that subtly reflect each characters' internal state.

The simplicity did smudge on occasion, clunky choices forced upon the dynamic script. Actors sometimes wandered afield, out of the stage lights. Caitlin Aase stuck to a limited palate of possible reactions, which stiffened her portrayal of surly "Masha"--though during her various musical interludes we glimpsed a fuller range. And when emotions ran high, or when there were many characters onstage at once, an actor or two would falter, or stutter--unsure how to 'simply listen' with so much happening at once.

Yet the overall effect was fascinating, moving, and beautiful. Megan Tusing as "Nina" is the jewel of the show; she doesn't face the same split-style challenge as Sim, so she can fully embody the play's complexity: In an intimate and unmannered performance, Tusing's Nina is an innocent youth growing into her own skin, amidst all the wrinkles and sags of the changing world. But her story's no mere history; she is, with us, in immediate reality.

Go to "Stupid F***ing Bird;" there's only one more week! Take a friend or sweetheart to the special Valentine's day performance at the KIMO: You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll get swept into the present moment.

KIMO Performance:
Sunday 2/14, 6pm

Other showtimes at the Cell Theater:
Tuesday 2/9, 7pm
Wednesday 2/10, 7pm

For more ticket information, contact:
The Cell Theater
(505) 766-9412

Photo credits: Richard K. Hogle

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