The Ten Thousand Things company does things unconventionally, and the production of
Stones in His Pockets is no different.
Michelle Hensley
directs again, and makes all the right choices. There are almost no
props (with the exception of two stones), there is no traditional
stage, and two actors share the fourteen parts of the play. This is a
brilliant dark comedy about two extras playing in a Hollywood movie
taking place in a small Irish village. The two extras are actually the
main characters of the play, and eventually they also become the main
characters of a film they would like to produce; the lines between
reality and fantasy are blurred, as the lines between actors and
audience, stars and extras, past and present, and even animals and
humans disappear.
The play opens with the two actors playing (Irish) cows, and it closes
with the same image, which is the desired last scene in the (yet to be
filmed) movie. I know, it’s complicated; but the meta-story works. It
navigates through funny and lighthearted moments, and then it suddenly
brings forth difficult life questions and even death. It is relevant to
the current world we live in; the extras worry about what will happen
after the film ends, what will they do, how will they make a living?
What will we do after the play is over? The positive outlook of the
denouement in which the two extras take charge of their own lives
suggests that everyone can be anything they want to be. Then again, the
two men also speak the truth that “movies aren’t real life.” But is
theater real life? So this turns into the perfect play for the Ten
Thousand Things theater group, which channels Brecht in its
performances: the lights are left on, and the actors frequently
interact with the spectators. When the two extras have to laugh in the
American film, the audience laughs along with them, and the extras
point at us saying “other extras were laughing too.” Consequently the
audience becomes extras themselves. We are all lumped in together in
this melting pot of life, and the connecting metaphor is that of the
cow, or rather of people as cows. The suggestion that people are (like)
animals is a common metaphor in literature and film, but it strongly
reminds me of Ionesco’s “Rhinoceros.” In this instance, though, there
is no metamorphosis: we are cows in the beginning and in the end. In
one of the main character’s words, “stars become the extras, extras
become the stars. The cows are where it starts and where it finishes.”
And just in case the audience misses the connection, we are told again
as a final thought, “all you see is cows.” It is not as absurd as
Ionesco would have it, but it is quaint enough to be simultaneously
humorous and depressing—the definition of dark comedy I’ll say.
Steven Epp, who has been a stand-out with the
Jeune Lune Theater,
is wonderful and forlorn as Jake, the Irishman who returns home from
America because of homesickness. He gets a chance to be more playful as
Ashley, and to show even more range as the physically fragile, but
strong willed old man Mickey. The other actor,
Jim Lichtscheidl,
also has to stretch between extremes, from Clem who is the pretentious,
vision lacking director of the film, to the simple, yet hopeful
Charlie, who is the other “main” extra. However, Lichtscheidl really
shines as the typical American diva star, Caroline, whose pretentious
style draws most of the laughs. Both actors display tremendous
versatility as they constantly alter their personas, which was a little
tough to follow in the frenetic beginning. Nevertheless, when they do
settle into a rhythm, they play off of each other perfectly; they are a
powerhouse comedic duo. As they move swiftly from one side to another,
from one character to another, it begins to feel as if all of the
characters are present at once, and that is a fantastic accomplishment.
Beside the sudden and frequent changes of personas, the play also moves
back and forth in time, and between comedy and tragedy. We see Jake and
Charlie as children, we laugh with them as drunken adults, and then we
worry about their reaction to Sean’s suicide by drowning (which gives
the title to the play). We also proceed from the small microcosm story
of Jake and Charlie to the larger narrative of the film they are in,
then to the play they are acting in, and finally to the film they want
to make based on what just happened in the play. So the play unfolds
like a reversed Russian doll effect, from small to large, only to fold
back upon itself as it winds down and until it becomes a miniature
again. Like a stone in everyone’s pockets.
Return to Home Page