Grotesquiana

By Brad Rudy, Atlanta Theatre Buzz

REVIEW: DON'T LOOK AT THE FAT LADY and ABOVE THE FOLD **** ½

Topher Payne's Two One-Acts, "Don't Look at the Fat Lady" and "Above the Fold" share a fascination with the Grotesqueries found in news headlines and the real people (with all the appropriate hopes and fears and obsessions) just out of sight beneath the screaming headlines. In Process Theatre's capable hands (as directed by DeWayne Morgan), both plays are funny, intriguing, well-acted, and even a bit suggestive of the "Talking Heads" paradigm of TV News and Panel Shows. Together, they make a unified and unique trip to the theatre. But, in its infinite wisdom, the M.A.T. Powers-That-Be have separated them into different productions, so, I'll talk about them as such. After all, I am second to none in my submission to "Powers-That-Be" (Be they Awards Panels or Exploitative News Headline Writers).

Don't Look at the Fat Lady Why not? I can't help it. Imprisoned on her couch, Gloria is grotesque, filthy, obscene in her obesity. She's a Car Wreck on the Side of the Road, a CSI Episode, a live Execution. And, as her story unfolds, she's an immensely ingratiating heroine, a kind hearted soul trapped in a fat suit built more by circumstance than by her own weaknesses (not that she doesn't have any weaknesses). Gloria was always a "plus-sized" girl, living in the shadow (so to speak) of her beautiful sister, obsessively self-deprecating to survive in an obsessively thin-cultured world. But she had the kindness of an angel, living only for the moments when she can care for the children at her church's nursery. A combination of a freak accident, an incompetent doctor, and a neglectful "Might-as-well-be Husband" has led to her current distress-confined to her living room couch for an extended convalescence, she has grown so large she has literally become part of the furniture. Before too long, she (and we) are shocked to discover just how long she has been there and how abandoned she has become. If Topher Payne's script has plot loopholes large enough for Gloria to slip through (If her electricity has been off that long, how does she know about Katie Couric? If she's been alone that long, where did she get the drink she sips at - or is it really an empty glass she sips at by habit and delusion? If she's been alone that long, how large was she when she first had nothing to eat, and, presumably, her body started consuming itself?), his dialog is compelling and funny and ultimately moving. And, in Jo Howarth's hands, Gloria is an eminently likeable woman, so likeable we end up sharing her delusions and accepting the plot holes that accompany her story.
Let's contemplate Ms. Howarth's achievement for a moment here. Here is an actress trapped in a fat suit, unable to move an inch, who must grab our attention and hold it for what is essentially a 60-minute monologue.
She must make us not only understand this woman, but to finally like her and actually care about her fate. That she succeeds so well is not only commendable, but remarkable. This will be the performance to beat come award time next summer. On the production side, this is a small black-box venue (OnStage Atlanta's Mini-Theatre) and a repertory situation, so set design is minimal. On the other hand, the set dressing (stacks and piles of garbage and detritus that seem to be an organic part of the couch) is perfectly realized (I do not envy the crew that has to clear that for the second act of the evening). Nina Gooch's Lighting Design shows a good sense of color and mood (not to mention TV flickers and sudden sunlight), and Jane Koesig's fat-suit costume (which ultimately gives way to an angelic white nightgown) is almost perfect. At the end of the play, Gloria looks at us and says "What? You think fat people only dream about being thin?" Oddly enough, I never thought this. That the people in Gloria's life lead her to this conclusion is a subtle indicator of the circumstances that have brought her to this couch, a condemnation of those who build the "fat-suit" of neglect that becomes her prison. She's better off now that she's left them behind.

Above the Fold If "Don't Look at the Fat Lady" is a "Behind the Headlines" look at a real-life Tabloid Story, "Above the Fold" takes that concept quite literally. Four vignettes offer pithy "outside-of-the-box" glimpses into stories that headline supermarket Tabloids (the stories "Above the Fold" of the front page). Each one could be developed into a full-length one-act (if that's not an oxymoron). As they stand now, writer Topher Payne finds a kernel of depth in each story, developing them just long enough to make his points.
In the first scene, an "ugly duckling" housewife, Darcy (a radiant Amanda Cucher) has had an extreme Make-Over in one of those Reality TV Plastic Surgery grotesqueries. She spends her time preening, checking out her re-done face in any reflective surface, and constantly seeking assurances from her distant husband Jim-Jack (Greg Morris). It doesn't take long for us to realize that Jim-Jack misses the woman he fell in love with, and was more attracted to her inner beauty than her new "perfect" look. In the second scene, we meet Shonda (Jo Howarth), a woman who has been in a "persistent vegetative state" for more than a decade, and who is in the middle of a media circus generated by her feuding husband and parents (sound familiar?). Godfrey (Greg Morris), a flamboyant make-up artist, has come to "fix her up" for the latest media bash. In what amounts to a 15-minute monologue, Godfrey expounds on the nature of beauty and fashion, and all the things she's "missed" over the past decade ("Can you believe Princess Di is actually dead?"). The fact that his conclusion is that she may be better off by missing all the tsuris of the past decade is one of the better ironies of this enjoyable piece. In the third scene (my personal favorite), we're in Michael Jackson's Neverland. Carolyn (Ms. Howarth) is interviewing a mother and son (Ms. Cucher and Mr. Morris) to "contain" any scandal associated with the un-named star's latest indiscretion. From the first, it's obvious that the mother initiated everything to make a quick buck. Of course, the twist here is who is the smartest of three. Finally, in a powerful conclusion, a lesbian couple (Ms. Howarth and Ms. Cucher) recount the events leading up to their quiet friend's violent rampage at the local high school. In an “interview" that reflects their own ostracism, they can't help but wonder, not "why he did it," but "why he waited so long." It is a stark condemnation not only of the societal pressures that lead to such acts of violence, but of the media fascination with the perpetrators of them.
It may be easy to accuse Mr. Payne of being a tad facile with these stories (and, indeed, he may be), but his point is not to develop our understanding of them (or the characters he creates to tell the stories), but to remind us of our own complicity in the "Tabloidization" of our media and news coverage. Has our love of grotesquiana overwhelmed our sense and our shame? Is this, in fact, a self-feeding monster? In a way, it must be. We, as an audience, are fascinated by these situations, by these extremes of human behavior. Yet it is a fascination with the grotesque that causes them. Isn't it? That these vignettes bring these questions to mind is indicative of the success of Mr. Payne's endeavor. The production, as a whole, is quite smoothly put together, with sets and costumes designed to facilitate quick changes, all of which are "covered" by video introductions of the latest scandal "ripped from the headlines."
The actors inhabit the characters with various degrees of success, but always with a skill and conviction that drive the stories forward. Stagingwise, most are static "interview" situations, yet compelling because of their lack of movement. They are, in effect, staged "Talking-Head Documentaries," and are reminiscent of that often mis-used paradigm. These plays, like "Don't Look at the Fat Lady," are funny, moving, and compelling reminders about the extremes that can result from the combination of the most seemingly innocuous events. That they are all based on real tabloid adventures is cause for reflection. Hopefully, what's reflected back isn't as grotesque as what's on stage.