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| Jens Rasmussen in Skin Tight |
“Pas de Duex” at Studio Theatre consists of two short, one act plays. There are supposedly many threads that tie the two plays together thematically, but what I enjoyed were their differences. These pieces hold up just fine as their own islands of artistry. Two plays, each with two actors, each with two wildly opposing tones.The one thing that they do have in common is the wonderfully intimate space on the fourth floor at Studio Theatre. These plays are part of Studio Theatre 2nd Stage, known for more experimental or edgy works. At the farthest point from the stage, you can still see the sly expressions on the actors’ faces, or see a stray drop of spittle fly into the lights during an emotional moment in the action. This isn’t an evening of straining to determine who’s doing what from thirty yards away—it’s a whole different kind of theatre experience, and it’s the perfect setting for these plays, which are:
“Skin Tight” by Gary Henderson, with Emily Townley as Elizabeth and Jens Rasmussen as Tom.
What I loved about this play is how it teases you, giving you no direct information at first, forcing you to pay attention and follow clues. A man and a woman race toward each other on a green hill. As they collide with a thud and start wrestling on the ground, we aren’t sure if this is a violent fight, or old fashioned lover’s play. It turns out to be a little bit of both. They wrestle, then stop, then start over again. As things settle in, we realize that they are a long married couple. Their words to each other are enigmatic and curiously weighted. What the hell is going on here?
Are they on the verge of separating? It seems so, but then there are tender moments where she shaves him, and he bathes her, in an old fashioned bath tub that, without explanation, is also on this hill. They pull out the occasional apple from the tub and shake off the water from it, before slicing and eating it. They also use the water to splash and play and playfully spit it at each other.
Emily Townley and Jens Rasmussen (last seen by this reviewer in ‘Conference Of The Birds’ at Folger Shakespeare Theatre) are utterly convincing as two people who’ve known each other a long time—which isn’t to say that they don’t have secrets which may or may not surprise the other. Their physicality with each other says as much about their relationship as the dialogue. And though their movements are surely choreographed to the teeth—they flow and roll and tumble with naturalistic grace and believable clumsiness.
Although it may seem a challenge to be given only gradually peeled bits of information, by the time the play reaches its unexpected conclusion, you realize the characters have stolen your heart. Don’t be surprised to find a lump in your throat. The final moments of the play have both actors completely nude and vulnerable. It’s a beautiful scene, played without a hint of self-consciousness.
INTERMISSION
“2-2 Tango” by Daniel MacIvor, with Jon Hudson Odom (Jim) and Alex Mills (James).
Two tuxedo-clad men catch each other’s eyes across a club’s dance floor. There’s an unmistakable attraction that each hopes, and mostly fears, might lead to something more “serious.” In “2-2 Tango,” the dances known as flirtation and mating are stepped out with pointed toes and funny lines. The action follows Alex Mills (so great in Shakespeare’s R&J) as James and John Hudson Odom as Jim. And, yes, just their introductions to each other, with their same-ish names, induces a chuckle.
The territory is familiar—is a one night stand the worst thing? Maybe it’s the best thing. And, “Oh God, what happens if we actually move in together?” Many of the laughs come from the near-slapstick choreography that accompanies their first night together. One likes the lights on, the other likes the dark—the way the characters use two-claps to turn the lights on and off (remember “The Clapper” on the late night TV commercials?) draws the biggest laughs.
The highlight is this couples’ “Ten Frightening Possibilities” list that they each act out with hilarious results. The overall themes and worries and delights are applicable to anyone, regardless of their sexual orientation, but that’s not to say that the play completely ignores certain elements that would be unique to a couple like this.
Two quibbles: a boy who delivers a watermelon ( a watermelon which reappears one too many times) doesn’t work. Yes, it surely has a greater symbolic meaning, but I was more interested in having fun than figuring out the metaphor. And much of the dialogue is delivered in unison, in a sing-songy way that a choreographer might use to keep everyone in time. A little of that goes a long way.
But the actors have an easy chemistry and are well matched. Odom goes a bit lighter—smiling or faux-stuttering (a tiny bit) for a comedic affect that works.
After tears, then laughter, you’ll leave Studio Theatre feeling as if you’ve seen something new. Or at least in a new setting.
