Off-B'way Review: Bowl EP

Essence Lotus and Oghenero Gbaje in
Bowl EP.
Credit: Carol Rosegg

When you walk into the Vineyard Theater for Nazareth Hassan’s Bowl EP, a co-production between Vineyard and the National Black Theatre in association with The New Gorup, you’ll certainly be impressed with the elaborate set by Adam Rigg and Anton Volovsek. The entire playing space was been converted into a empty swimming pool with the audience behind mesh fences on all four sides. According to the digital program we are “on the edge of an urban wasteland in the middle of the galaxy.” The hollow bowl of the pool serves as a meeting place for two African-American wannabe rappers, the bisexual Quentavius da Quitter (Oghenero Gbaje), and the transgender female Kelly K. Klarkson (Essence Lotus). They are trying out their skateboarding and rhyming skills. Hassan’s jagged, fragmented script begins promisingly with short, sharp vignettes of Quentavius and Kelly alternating between brainstroming names for their rap group, skating, and flirting with each other through food. Quentavius suggestively offers Kelly a banana, an apple, and a sandwich. The scenes are punctuated with brief titles, or tracks as in a music album, in different type faces projected on the floor of the empty pool (Zavier Augustus Lee Taylor created the eye-popping video and projection design.)

Essence Lotus and Oghenero Gbaje in
Bowl EP.
Credit: Carol Rosegg

The two grow gradually closer and slowly reveal their damaged past as they try out various meaning-laden catchphrases for their rap duo’s name (Dad’s Vomit, Dead Mothers, Michael Jackson’s Accusers). It’s almost as if they talking in code, hiding their true feelings. The dialogue is funny and tender, Hassan’s direction is well paced and subtly undercovers subtext as does the acting by Gbaje and Lotus. Gabje’s shift in tone from jovial wisecracking to sober recollection when the topic of sexual abuse is introduced is shattering. Plus the two are pretty nifty skateboarders. 

But about half-way through the play’s 85 minutes, the proceedings take a bizarre turn and what started off as a moving love story of two alienated outsiders reaching out to each other through their love of rap and skateboarding turns into a confusing jumble. A third character pops out of an opening in the pool and

Essence Lotus and Oghenero Gbaje in
Bowl EP.
Credit: Carol Rosegg

takes over. She is dressed like a cosplay version of a Japanese anime character (DeShon Elem created the flashy costumes) and identifies herself as Lemon Pepper Wings. Presumably she represents Quentavius’ inner demons and dominates the action until the end of the play. She forces Quent and Kelly to live out their dreams by performing a rap concert. (Free Fool is credited with the intense infectious music.) Then Lemon Pepper performs an act of symbolic violence on the two (literally ripping their guts out) and explains their tragic fates in a powerhouse monologue. Felicia Curry delivers a stunning performance as this force of nature. She manages to convey the essence of longing, passion and self-hatred and still portray a credible character rather than a symbol. 

Unfortunately, for the latter half of the play, Hassan tells us about the two rappers’ unhappy story instead of showing us. Lemon Pepper Wings’ long speech which is half abstract concepts and half storytelling, goes on too long and interest in Quentavus and Kelly is lost. The set and the skateboarding are fun, but they are not enough to maintain a fully-fleshed work.

May 18—June 22. Vineyard Theater and National Black Theater in association with The New Group at Vineyard Theater, 108 E. 15th St., NYC. Running time: 85 mins. with no intermission. vineyardtheater.org

Off-B'way Reviews: Curse of the Starving Class; Dakar 2000

Christian Slater, Calista Flockhart,
and Lois in
Curse of the Starving Class.
Credit: Monique Carboni

Sam Shepard’s darkly funny and tragic family drama Curse of the Starving Class premiered in London in 1977 and then Off-Broadway at the Public Theater in 1978, winning an Obie Award for Best Play. Bruce Beresford direct a 1996 film version starring James Woods and Kathy Bates. It has been revived by Signature Theater Company in 2019. Despite this relatively recent production and its age, a new staging in Signature’s theater complex by a different company (The New Group), Curse does not feel repetitive or dated to the late 70s thanks to a muscular production by New Group artistic director Scott Elliott. When this unflinching portrait of the symbolic disintegration of the American Dream and the nuclear family was first produced, the country was reeling from Watergate and the first major spell of mass disillusion with our trusted institutions. In 2019, we were sharply divided by Trump’s populism and politics of rage. Now we are even more shattered and conflicted and Shepard’s bleak vision feels especially relevant. 

The basic plot echoes the works of Chekhov, Williams and O’Neill with the dysfunctional Tate clan clawing each other over the fate of their home and ranch in California (Arnulfo Maldonado designed the hyper-realistic kitchen set.)  Alcoholic dad Weston (a grizzled Christian Slater) plans to sell off the land in order to pay his enormous debts, mostly for bar tabs and restoring antique cars. Mother Ella (appropriately desperate and harried Calista Flockhart) has similar designs, but wants to use the profits to flee to a fantasy life in Europe. Their two children, Wesley (a zombie-like Cooper Hoffman) and Emma (razor-sharp Stella Marcus) seek to establish their own identities in different ways. Wesley wants to stay on the land and make it work while Emma, like her mom, indulges in elaborate dreams of escape involving fishing boats and becoming a mechanic. 

Cooper Hoffman and Christian Slater
in Curse of the Starving Class.
Credit: Monique Carboni

Shepard uses the clashes of the Tates to develop his themes of alienation and disconnection from American society. No one trusts banks, institutes, or the country at large. When asked to describe a slick real-estate dealer (appropriately glib Kyle Beltran) looking to purchase the family spread, Emma tartly replies, “You know, ordinary, like a crook.” Also, the family is caught in an economic squeeze, unable to make their land pay. Ella often exclaims they are not starving, but not rich either. “We’re somewhere in the middle,” she declares. They are constantly opening the refrigerator, seeking sustenance which is hardly ever there. There are myriad images and references to food, eating and livestock. Emma has been saving a chicken to dissect for her 4-H Club, but Ella boiled it before the demonstration. Wesley brings a live sheep onstage (In one of the few instances of miscasting, Lois the animal actor appears a bit too well-fed for her role.)