For a campus where fraternities and sororities do not officially exist, there has been a recent influx of things Greek at Georgetown. Bash, Neil LaBute’s examination of psychology on the edge, is laden with allusions to ancient Greece: fate, mythology, classical tragedy and even a “Delphi University.” Directed by Clayton Lord (CAS ‘03), the play is divided into three sections of varying strength: “A Gaggle of Saints,” “Medea Redux” and “Iphigenia at Orem.” In each part LaBute delivers a dark image of everyday people that one wouldn’t expect from a graduate of Brigham Young University. Recycling thematic elements from a time where gods resembled men, LaBute’s morally depraved characters battle with the darker aspects of their humanity.
From the beginning, Bash delves into the psychology behind sexuality, morality and family dynamics. The first scene, “A Gaggle of Saints,” examines the relationship between two high school sweethearts who are now juniors at Boston College. John, a self-assured all-American, well-played by Marty LaFalce (CAS ‘03), seems innocuous enough. Sue, given a schoolgirl sentimentality by Anne Popolizio (CAS ‘05), is a devoted girlfriend. Through facial expressions and body language, Popolizio’s physical nervousness betrays the lack of confidence behind her words. At a party they attend in New York City, John nonchalantly reveals his abusive nature. Proudly proclaiming “I know the Scriptures,” he recounts how he and two friends kill a man in a Central Park bathroom. With an eerie smile, LaFalce, giving the best performance in the play, succeeds in capturing John’s horrifically self-satisfied nature. The script makes John a detestable character, but LaFalce is especially adept at making him a truly dislikable person.
The second scene, “Medea Redux,” while intended as a modern take on the Medea legend, sits more like an episode of Boston Public. A nameless woman, played by Jenny Zerke (CAS ‘05), describes her affair with a teacher when she was 13, after which she became pregnant yet promised to keep his secret. With emotional swings punctuated by awkwardly smoked cigarettes, she changes from reserved to raging, as she is slowly brought toward a confession. Zerke’s girlish portrayal of a mature character is unconvincing due to the overly-abrupt shifts in her emotional state.
The most brilliant twist in the play comes in “Iphegenia at Orem,” a segment that is handled excellently by Mark Ipri (CAS ‘05), who leaves the audience speechless. A nameless chauvinist reveals to a stranger in a hotel room a dark family secret. Ipri succeeds in presenting a complex character who is both a victim and a victimizer as he struggles to convince both the audience and himself of his innocence.
The set consists of a rock wall reminiscent of Plato’s cave or the “Agro Crag” from Nickelodeon’s Guts. Designed by Kate Couturier (SFS ‘05), it is intentionally disorienting, placing the audience in an alien environment evocative of an underwater cavern. The transition between scenes was awkward, as visible stagehands rotated the wall to reveal another wall on the other side, with overdone music accompanying the change.
The three parts are often presented in varying orders, Bash might have felt more conclusive had “A Gaggle of Saints” been in the third slot. “Medea Redux” and “Iphegenia at Orem” are very similar in both theme and story, and while the latter is better played overall, its final moments lack the intensity found in “A Gaggle of Saints.”
Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of Bash is that these killers are common people: the jock, the cheerleader, the teenager in love and the husband trying to support his family. The actors, for the most part, succeed in evoking a complex mixture of sympathy and antipathy. Despite the horrific events that are described in each part, the characters strive to convince themselves and the audience that they are innocent. In a play comfortable with long silences, the horrendous deeds of the characters and the conviction of the performers quietly linger as the line between right and wrong is blurred.
