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Chilling Tableaus
Carefully Crafted at Zombie
Joe’s
by
Amy Lyons
It’s not all that often that
the horror genre – with all
its ghastly imagery and
blood-soaked victims – finds
a home on stage. Even if you
can devour an Edgar Allen
Poe short story until your
creaky house seems to be
falling as fast as that of
Roderick Usher, or find
delight in gripping a movie
theatre’s armrests as a
masked man-child slashes up
the unsuspecting, scrubbed
teenagers of Podunk, U.S.A.,
your iron-clad stomach might
take a turn for the queasy
when you’re stuck in a tiny
black-box theatre in North
Hollywood with some
seriously convincing sickos.
It’s worth summoning your
courage to behold Urban
Death, a powerful
play without words currently
haunting the stage at Zombie
Joe’s Underground Theatre. A
gaggle of highly skilled
semi-mimes (think cadre of
maniacal clowns, not gang of
obnoxiously flummoxed glass
box prisoners) takes us
through one hour of sheer
terror that only lets up
when things are so surreal
that laughter is elicited.
It’s like being in a house
of horrors for sixty high
adrenaline minutes; you’re
dying to see the light at
the exit door as you
paradoxically pine for the
next pulse-quickening shock
to your system.
It’s a hoot and a scream
rolled into one.
It’s also full of social
commentary about the times
in which we live and the
everyday horrors to which
we’ve grown accustomed. Take
the prom queen, who’s newly
knocked up and looking for a
place to dump her tiny
offspring, or the skittish
pet owner nervously
searching for her doggie
with only the narrow beam of
her flashlight to guide her
through a murky urban night.
As her electric candle waxes
and wanes, we suddenly catch
sight of a bloodthirsty
figure less than two inches
behind her. It’s all very
startling and painfully
honest – what woman in Los
Angeles wants to hunt for
her pet late at night with
the serial killer dubbed the
Grim Sleeper on the loose?
Some of the scenes are
straight-up comedy and serve
as a smart source of relief.
If you’ve ever had the
nightmare about being
without pants in public, or
falling endlessly into an
unseen ravine, you’ll get a
huge kick out of some of the
lighter moments.
Each vignette runs no more
than two minutes, some of
them spanning just a few
seconds. The theatre is in
total darkness between each
dramatic snapshot and
therein lies the real
terror. What will we see or
hear next and who or what is
lurking around the inky
stage? One vignette consists
solely of diabolical
whispers uttered in
darkness, a creepy
soundtrack that freezes the
blood.
The nine actors that create
this nightmarish tapestry
are Julia Cunningham, Dana
DeRuyck, Brett Gilbert,
Jeremy Gladen, Amelia Megan
Gotham, Mark Hein, Tony
Marsiglia., Melody Mooney
and Doug Myers. Each
deserves kudos for being an
integral part of a whole, a
unified troupe that shocks,
thrills and darkly jokes
wholly with their physical
beings. Jana Wimer directs
the voiceless troupe with
keen attention to that which
spooks the human psyche and
those hidden horrors that
reside in our subconscious
minds. Christoper Reiner’s
original musical score is
priceless, marrying
otherworldly carnival sounds
with ironically upbeat tunes
and dark dirges.
Through March 7 at Zombie
Joe’s Underground Theatre,
4850 Lankershim Blvd. Call
(818)202-4120.
 Amy Lyons
is a professional freelance journalist, theatre critic and playwright, with a degree in Theatre Arts and English from UMass, Boston. Her articles, theatre reviews and photos regularly appear in numerous publications, including Beverly Press, Valley Life Magazine and The Record Collector News. Amy also serves as a script reader for Reliant Pictures. She can be reached at amykly@yahoo.com. |
