Hiding Behind Comets: Sex, Violence and Family Values

In Brian Dykstra's disturbing drama Hiding Behind Comets, a pair of twins have been taught to fear the bogeyman. Not a shadowy monster, they explain, but a person: one who would ask them too many questions. And one night, naturally, they meet a menacing man who asks them too many questions, and tells them a story they don't want to hear. Any number of jokes begin with the setup of a man walking into a bar; in Hiding Behind Comets, the question is: Who will walk out?

When the play ran at 29th Street Rep in 2005, its violence was so graphic and startling that the special effects earned their own New York Times article. Those looking to see blood spray the walls in the current revival of the play at Nicu's Spoon will be disappointed, but only barely. If this production is not as graphic as its predecessor, it is still a genuinely chilling study of faith, family and the true nature of evil.

As intense and powerful as it can be, the play's flaws from 2005 remain. Several moments seem designed to shock rather than provoke, and seem like Dykstra trying to prove how edgy he is...or simply kill time. (Pun intended.) Dykstra is at his best when discussing an issue from every perspective, and when the characters start to truly argue and make their cases, the play crackles with genuine electricity. It's even worth waiting through the pseudo-shocking talk of incest and graphic sex to get to the raw, exposed nerve at the play's core.

Taking a page from Sam Mendes' revival of Cabaret, director (and set designer) John Trevellini places the audience in the twins' bar, making us a part of the horror as it unfolds all around us. More than that, it makes us culpable in the violence by the very fact that we sit still as the threats increase and words become deeds. The audience's inaction becomes their sin.

If there's a downside to Trevellini's direction, it's in the overwrought emotions he brings (only occassionally) from his actors. By and large, the emotions ring painfully true, but the play is a tightrope act, and it is awfully easy to slip into melodrama. When he speaks with his low purr of a voice, Oliver Conant is a chilling bogeyman, quietly menacing and utterly--terribly--in control of the mindgames. When he yells, that control disappears, and so does the menace. As Honey, Rebecca Challis' strongest moments are her interactions with her character's brother and best friend, which reveals the intense--and unspoken--love between them all. When she tries to be shockingly sexually graphic, it seems forced and false, though whether that's Challis or Honey is left unclear, and perhaps for the best. As Honey's twin brother Troy, David Tulley mostly gets to react to the increasing horror around him, but does so in a way that makes his predicament and character completely sympathetic. He's the classic Nice Guy caught up in a mess he didn't make, and Tulley conveys Troy's fear and confusion very well. In the small role of Troy's girlfriend Erin, Kiran Malhotra doesn't have much to do, but nicely plays up her character's good-natured sweetness and innocent sensuality.

Steven Wolf's lighting design deserves special mention for a particularly chilling moment that brings many aspects of a play--writing, directing, acting and lighting--into one whole. As he narrates a horrifyingly violent story, Oliver Conant sits near a single red light that shines subtly into a corner. When he leans back, he is suddenly bathed in red, highlighting the bloody descriptions in his words. When he sits up again, the effect is gone, as though it never happened. It's a perfect blast of theatricality, and reminds us why representing an action can sometimes be much more effective than presenting it. This production of Hiding Behind Comets may not have the blood of other companies', but it certainly has the guts.

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