Popsicle's Departure, 1989

by Toby Zinman

"What an ugly world this is," two separate characters remark at two separate times. They are talking about cigarette butts on the floor and unheated warehouse squats, but they are really talking about the underground world of punk-rock Boston, and they might well be talking about this play. Brat Productions has never been more truly named: Madi Distefano’s engrossing new play (which she wrote as well as performs) is wall-to-wall ugly and wall-to-wall brats.

A combination of direct-address narrative -- mostly storytelling, partly drama -- allows Distefano to play all the characters. The show's "heroine" -- if that's what she is -- is called Dido (not the Carthage one, and pronounced Deedo for reasons unknown; the meaningless mythic flirting continues when she masquerades as Cassandra, a "rebellious slutty grunge girl"). Her boyfriend, Jeremy, is a guitarist who has a thing going on the side with Yvonne (who, when she cries and her mascara runs, turns into "a raccoon with great tits"). Add to this population two strangers in an office, one mocked for her kindness, the other seduced and robbed, a guy named Wrench, a girl named Anna, lots of crystal meth, lots of random sex and a variety of other aimless inhabitants in this miserable winter's day-in-the-life. The lighting designed by John Stephen Hoey creates appropriate atmosphere -- lurid, grotesque and mean.

Distefano, who has directed -- with great success -- several of the contemporary Irish plays which take this same format (Howie the Rookie and This Lime Tree Bower were both strong productions), wanted a similar theater piece but with a female protagonist. Oddly enough, despite Dido's having much of the stage time, it is Jeremy who holds our interest and who allows Distefano to do some impressive acting (a shift to a Boston accent and skateboarder stance signals Jeremy's arrival each time). Maybe in Ireland this play would be fascinating, because it would be exotic, but Popsicle's Departure's very urban-America story is too familiar and the characters too stock and the dialogue too dull (how much code-for-cool talk about T-shirts and hair dye can an audience take?). The show takes too long to get where it's going and the optional endings -- violent death or sensible escape -- are the obvious either/or of the formula.

The trouble with mere accuracy about this vile and empty world (Distefano's program note vouches for its experiential truth) is that it doesn't have any redeeming grace. Although we hear what these characters are thinking and feeling, nothing interesting or sympathetic is revealed; they are merely vile and empty products of that ugly world.

POPSICLE’S DEPARTURE, 1989

Through May 9, Brat Productions, Christ Church Annex, Second Street above Market, 215-413-0975

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