Spotlighters' "Fat Pig": Thought-Provoking and Enjoyable

I am always leery of director's notes in programs that do more than explain the context of their specific vision.  Often, they come across as self-serving (laughable), or they tell us what we are supposed to get from the play (annoying and degrading), or worst of all, they tell us how to react (robbing us of a unique experience).  How sad then to report that director Bob Russell has done all three in his notes to the audience.  Surely it can't be a lack of confidence in the play and/or his own direction.  Mr. Russell, rather then let the play and his direction speak for itself, tells us "I'm not going to wish that you "enjoy" Fat Pig, I am going to wish that you "listen and take it to heart."  Has this director forgotten that for many theatergoers "enjoying" a show means relishing its point and controversies through individual discovery?  Yes. (Think) Is he taking the punch out of the playwright's point by telling us we shouldn't enjoy (i.e. laugh, smile), when perhaps the writer wants us to laugh, and then feel bad about it?  Yes. (Feel) Or is it even more simple –Is this a safety valve for Spotlighters (he is a member of the Board of Directors) against people that might find the piece offensive?  Yes.  (Act)  How ironic that the mantra/slogan of Spotlighters is "Think!  Feel!  Act!", when his notes ask us not to do any of those. In a few short paragraphs, he has virtually taken that away from us.

Russell's uneven direction leaves scenes that have climaxed with several unbearably dull minutes until their conclusion and no final climax (scenes 4 and 7, both of which end the acts in a bizarre anti-climax), and the excruciatingly long scene changes also put a damper on this production's momentum.  Todd Krickler's excellent choice of music, uplifting and entirely poignant, helps during those down times.  Still, one can imagine that with just a little extra thought more creative scene changes might have helped to keep it going.  Mr. Russell is most fortunate that he has a cast with natural affinity for one another (their camaraderie is palpable) for they fill in the blanks with a genuine subtext and superb chemistry that I am pretty certain he did not foster or expect.  (A similar problem plagued his last Spotlighters project, Months on End.)

 Neil LaBute's razor-sharp attack on all that is appearance-driven, Fat Pig, opened last weekend at Spotlighters, and in spite of its direction, it a great big, plus-sized hit!  A lot of that has to do with the quality of LaBute's script – so realistic and, well, fat-free.  He makes his points crystal clear, and sets us up for a big fall.

The very first sight we get of his heroine, Helen, is at a food court table surrounded by carry out containers – the remnants of three slices of pizza, a salad and several pudding cups (not the fat free kind).  We should be immediately making judgments and feeling simultaneously superior and full of pity for this dangerously obese woman.  Then we should be laughing at her self-defense – a witty, self-deprecating sense of humor, and then immediately feeling a sense of guilt.  LaBute sets us up again later in the play when our hero, who sees through Helen's size and has zeroed in on her heart, is confronted by his Grade-A jerk of a friend, who laughs, teases and says unspeakably unkind things about Helen.  See, we can recognize that what the jerk is saying is wrong on many levels, and yet are forced to admit that those same thoughts (hopefully in less abrupt terms) were running through our heads.  The final set up is the inevitable and shockingly painful conclusion.  I'll leave that for you to experience. 

Even more so, the quality of the four member cast, each one perfectly cast and able to rise above the troublesome direction, really makes this production a must see! 

Courtney Ryan, as Jeannie, is the perfect antithesis of Helen.  She is the very embodiment of all that we as a surface-based society covet.  She is model thin, has lovely eyes, hair and lips, and looks amazing in a bikini.  She is also everything we like in a modern woman – successful at a young age, full of self-esteem (on the surface), and smart.  But all is not what it appears, and Miss Ryan is to be applauded for some excellent character choices.  She has Jeannie perilously close to self-loathing, so insecure is she, and all coated with a veneer of self-absorption.  Seems Jeannie thinks Tom has left her for greener pastures.  How delighted is she, and so deliciously played with edgy vinegar by Miss Ryan, when she actually sees the woman Tom has left her for!  Cruelly, Jeannie can barely contain her glee and disgust.  And even more honestly, Miss Ryan allows us to see that a bit of Jeannie might actually like Helen. 

The aforementioned Grade A Jerk (another word I can not publish comes readily to mind) is played most excellently by Todd Krickler.  He is so believable; it is hard to believe that Krickler isn't really that way.  The smug sneer planted on his face, and his arrogant, self-adoring swagger only adds fuel to the hate fire of his character, Carter.  His performance is nothing less than amazing.  I actually had pangs of hatred for him, so nasty is this portrayal.  But what really brings Mr. Krickler my praise is the amazing ability he has to make us also kinda like him.  His cut-downs are hilarious, if offensive, and there is a nugget of truth about him that is a least admirable.  It is a scene where Carter finally lets his own walls down and tells a painful story of childhood that lets us see that there is more than meets the eye with this character, too.

As Tom, the guy with a real heart of gold wrapped heavily in the need for peer/societal acceptance, R. Brett Rohrer brings wonderful dimension to this complex character.  The ache of confusion is in every movement and anguished line as he shows us a character caught between his heart, which is telling him the right thing to do, and his mind which is telling him what the world at large expects of him.  The joy of Tom's new found freedom when he realizes that when he is doing the right thing he is happiest is almost tear-inducing in Mr. Rohrer's earnest interpretation.  And when he begins to struggle with what is right versus his inability to deal with societal pressure his frustration and anguish are shared with us all as we, the audience, try to figure out a way that Helen and Tom can be together in a world full of such loathing.  This charming actor makes us root for him, feel pity for him, and even feel a bit disappointed in him - complexity and simplicity rolled up into a fine acting package! 

Finally, as Helen, the object of desire, pity, ridicule is the talented, effervescent and quietly confident Erin Riley.  She may very well be giving the most genuine, heartfelt performance of the year in Baltimore.  Her Helen is a walking contradiction – self-assured and self-deprecating.  And underneath it all, she is somewhat self-loathing and fiercely self- protective.  As we watch Miss Riley slowly peel away layers of reserve and open her heart to possibility, we are right there with her, overlooking the physical and hoping against all hope that happiness will be hers.  Her careful interplay between the other three really informs the depth and quality of her performance.  One look at Jeannie and Helen knows she might lose, after all.  And with that one glance, Riley speaks volumes, ending with heartbreak.  Riley's performance gives us everything LaBute might be after – we should love every single thing about Helen, and yet most of us can't get past one very small difference. 

About half way through the play, Carter makes his one completely honest statement: "People fear difference."  Sad, but true.

When you go, ignore the director's notes.  Heck, ignore my interpretation!  When you go, and you really must - think, feel, act and enjoy it.  You will be all the better for the experience.

 

PHOTOS: By Amy Jones.  TOP: Erin Riley and R. Brett Rohrer ; MIDDLE: R. Brett Rohrer, Todd Krickler and Courtney Ryan; BOTTOM: R. Brett Rohrer and Erin Riley.

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