Comprised of a series of ruminative monologues and several pieces of shared text which I hesitate to qualify as “scenes” (although they do involve a conversation between actors, of which there are three) and structured on top of and around musical sequences composed and performed by the ineffable Catherine Brookman, the show is described within marketing materials as ‘a theatrical séance for listening,’ which isn’t inaccurate, although the word séance feels misleading. It’s not so much a communing with the dead as an un-containing of the self, casting meaning into the void, hoping perhaps to receive some echo of that meaning back, in the shape of a hug, or song, or strip of tinfoil torn from the wall
We see a huge net, hanging above us, watching us. JACK’s perimeter begins to rumble with the war chants of a fearless ensemble. Then there is that voice, Catherine Brookman’s voice, which has always sounded to me like it’s harnessing the metaphysical forces of a hundred sinners in some holy service in the center of America. From behind us, she propels the rumbling and the chanting onward
There’s exuberance here, and the musical numbers - moodily lit by Jay Ryan, with daffy-beautiful choreography by Mr. Bloom and Mr. Rady let it take flight...a sonic glow as entrancing as a phosphorescent sea... vocally complex, rich and consistently surprising.
A daring piece you have to see to believe.
The master invention and creativity that Jeremy Bloom, Brian Rady, and Catherine Brookman brought to the piece will certainly be rewarded.
Waves pound and crash in the opening moments of the show, but the cataclysm that’s coming is a stealthy one
Throughout this piece I found myself saying, ‘Only in New York, only downtown, how fortunate we are to be here.’ - an evolution most fascinating, exciting, and entertaining to experience.