Insane in the Membrane

Chekhov Lizardbrain is distinctly Pig Iron — physical and funny, moments of startling visual clarity and emotional intensity.

by Mark Cofta

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Published: Apr 4, 2007

Another Pig Iron Theatre creation, so: 1) We're in a different performance space — the Latvian Society, opposite the Edgar Allan Poe House — and 2) We don't know what to expect. How exciting!

We're told that Chekhov Lizardbrain was created through improvisation by director Dan Rothenberg and performers Quinn Bauriedel, Dito van Reigersberg, Geoff Sobell and James Sugg. We're told, also, that it's based on Paul D. MacLean's "Three Brain" theory (our heads contain what resemble the brains of lizards and dogs as well as the uniquely human neocortex) with inspiration from Anton Chekhov (a doctor as well as a writer) and autistic author Temple Grandin.

What emerges is distinctly Pig Iron — physical and funny, moments of startling visual clarity and emotional intensity, not much linear story — yet very different from their previous creations. Chekhov Lizardbrain is narrated by a character of the same name, played dourly by Sugg (imagine Garrison Keillor on downers), a pitchman who promises to "shock, awe and arouse" us, to "put the human condition onstage and make it dance."

He explains the three brains (they're "like roommates who throw unexpected parties and don't wash the dishes") and introduces three brothers who inherit their family home. Two wish to sell, but the one who cared for their mother through her final years wants to stay.

The prospective buyer, Dmitri, is their monosyllabic, taciturn neighbor and Chekhov Lizardbrain's alter ego (or is it vice versa?). We gradually realize that the articulate showman has mentally impaired Dmitri's attempt to make sense of his world.

All this occurs on a white circle bordered by velvet ropes like a museum exhibit, with simple white furniture. Red curtains open to reveal a dark, dramatic sky. Anna Kiraly's set, like James Clotfelter's haunting lighting (dozens of red, yellow, and white bulbs in bare sockets hung from the ceiling) and Olivera Gajic's comical costumes (the men sport dress shirts, top hats and curled mustaches, but no trousers), give Chekhov Lizardbrain an antic, vaudevillian sense, even as the story of Dmitri and the three brothers emerges.

Therein lies the 75-minute play's surprising success: We expect (and receive) a beautifully realized but abstract meditation, but also engage a story (challengingly obtuse though it may be) about genuine characters. Or maybe that's not surprising at all. What's most consistently Pig Iron is the imaginary math of unlikely parts adding up to an undefinable yet fascinating whole.

(m_cofta@citypaper.net)

Chekhov Lizardbrain, through April 15The Latvian Society,Seventh and Spring Garden streets215-627-1883, www.lizardbraintheplay.com

 

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