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Regional Reviews: St. Louis Wolf Kings Also see Richard's review of Slasher
We're drawn in because it all starts out so delightfully, as a mad romp in the tiny Chapel on Alexander. It's the perfect place for a fairy tale. So, what's the scintillating difference in this particular dramatic isolation? I can't tell you directly. But we're taught that "comedy ends in marriage, and tragedy ends in death," and I even tried explaining in a biblical context in Sunday school years ago, in my never-ending attempts to unite church and stage. But the concept totally bombed that time. Anyway, the writ here is more existential, featuring pagan gods. And a third path is found, as we're delivered to a sparkling moment of stasis. It's a perfect tragicomic summit that's neither heaven nor hell. It's slightly hideous, though, because the last two people on stage can't appreciate that they've managed a miraculous escape from the hungry masks of theatre, hovering over them like gods. Or maybe I should say they've become those twin masks of comedy and tragedy, locked in orbit around one another. Those last two characters still try to make contact, and the absurdity of that carries a fabulous intimation of comedy. Wolf Kings begins in a secret lesbian bar, possibly in Berlin, possibly in the 1930s. But the mood changes from wartime wariness into glee, with a lot of saloon-type singing, with slap-happy dancing by choreographer Mikey Thomas. Then, after a series of funny in-grouping behaviors, everyone must painfully sort themselves out again, one way or another. A cyclical re-telling of the story of Little Red Riding Hood begins, lightheartedly at first. Five terrific actresses (and one terrific actor) hypnotize us into strange new spaces. A very admirable, original interrogation scene lures the audience from comedy to carnivorous shock. Nearly every version of the fable of the girl with the scarlet cape becomes a tale of innocence lost. She meets a "wolf," but he's never the same for any one of them. Through it all, we devour the actors' faces with our eyes. And their voices have voices within voices, like a grandma within a wolf within a grandma. Before all that, soon after lights-up, the performer known as Keating furtively admits each woman into a cafe after-hours, as if they feared to be seen banging at the door in the middle of the night. Later Keating makes us laugh with a comic psychoanalysis of the Little Red pathology, with a Freud-like Austrian accent and a pair of coke-bottle eyeglasses. That's long after the group is assembled, though, after the women have donned elegant men's formal wear. They're very swanky in Dietrich-esque tuxes and tails by costumer Marcy Wiegert. Kay Ailee Bush and show co-creator Maggie Conroy both keep the episodic, beach ball of a story aloft with their taut and witty performances. The intentionally scattershot, anti-chronological sound design is by director/co-creator Chuck Harper, with Morgan Schindler running the complex cues. Ashwini Arora is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma, all bundled underneath that famous red cape. Cassidy Flynn is the only man they'll allow in their company, slipping and sliding expertly through his own maddening explanation of the wolf. And Frankie Ferrari is heartbreakingly great, taking it all on the chin as another member of their smart, secretive little clique–right up to the moment when she crashes into her own kind of isolation, both wretched and sublime. The show features texts adapted from, and inspired by, the writings of Angela Carter, Alphonse Daudet, Marie de Rabutin-Chantal Sévigné, and Benjamin Walker, with original material written by Chuck Harper and the ensemble. YoungLiars Theatre's Wolf Kings runs through November 23, 2024, at the Chapel on Alexander, 6238 Alexander Drive, St. Louis MO. Performances are Thursdays through Saturdays. For tickets and information, please visit www.youngliarstheatre.org. Cast: Production Staff: |
