Review: THE FLICK is an Envelope-Pushing Must-See for All Serious Orlando Theatre Fans

The vast majority of theatre, even straight plays, has an intrinsic musicality that has become an engrained part of the art form; characters speak with an expected rhythm familiar to regular theatre viewers, dialogue is paced with a conventional choreography to which the audience has grown accustomed. While most playwrights strive for a heightened level of lyrical poetry from their scripts, Annie Baker's THE FLICK, by design, has no rhythm, nor choreography, nor poetry; what it has is uncomfortable reality. Since its debut in 2013, THE FLICK, presented at The Dr. Phillips Center through July 12th by Gen Y Productions, has amassed a devoted following and a Pulitzer Prize, but has also drawn the ire of many theatre-goers, who, frustrated by its unorthodoxy, leave the theater before the show is over. While THE FLICK, directed here by Tony-winning producer Kenny Howard, does have the occasional profanity and risqué topics, it is nothing compared to that of theatre greats like David Mamet or Tracy Letts; no, the objection to THE FLICK is not because of its content, but because of how its content is presented.

Set in a run-down Massachusetts one-screen movie theater, THE FLICK chronicles the daily happenings of three hapless employees who sweep up popcorn, clean bathrooms, and feed film through a projector. Their jobs are ordinary, their conversations are ordinary, but the emotions that the three actors at the center of the story bring to life, are anything but. Avery, played by Marcellis Cutler, is a college student taking some time off, who has followed his passion for film to a job at one of the few 35mm theaters left in the state. Avery works alongside Sam (Daniel Cooksley), a 35-year-old struggling to make sense of where his life has lead him. Jessica Hope plays The Flick's projectionist Rose, who is constantly looking for someone to understand her.

The three phenomenal actors bring an incredible amount of subtlty and truth to characters that could be boringly flat. They discuss issues large and small, from institutionalized racism to the ethics of littering in a movie theatre. However, in doing so, their conversations are not framed in the rapid-fire stage-speak that we are used to hearing; instead, the audience is given the opportunity to experience the characters thinking and reacting as people normally would while chatting at work; slowly, disjointedly, and authenticly. This ultra-realistic approach permits us to appreciate the story-telling power of silence, something we rarely get in the theatre. Stammering and extended pauses give the neuroses of the characters time to breathe and fester, allowing them to take a much stronger hold than they would with traditional dialogue, always hurdling forward to the next line.

What results is a uniquely introspective story about three outcasts who struggle as much to communicate with each other as to understand themselves. The story is intense and sad and funny, frequently all at the same time; just as life can often be. Baker regularly cuts tension with the sharp side of an unexpected joke, just before emotions erupt. While I wish that some of the more raw moments didn't end on a comedic button, without them, THE FLICK would likely become far too somber for nearly any audience.

Baker's unusual construction does require a level of attention and active listening that can be difficult for some. However, if you are able to embrace the unorthodox approach, there is something very special in THE FLICK. Despite the three hour and five minute running time (including one intermission), neither the length, nor the methodical pacing, bothered me once. Even when all of the actors are quiet, something is always being said. Even when all of the actors sit motionlessly, something is always happening. Both spoken and not, the dialogue in THE FLICK is uniquely compelling, and the actors are both engaging and haunting.

(CHECK OUT MY VIDEO INTERVIEWS WITH THE CAST OF "THE FLICK")

Cooksley's Sam provides the easiest window into the dysfunctional trio. He at first appears to be a stereotype; a rough-around-the-edges under-achiever never without his backwards Red Sox hat. However, as each employee begins to reveal tiny pieces of him or herself, Sam transforms into an Everyman whom you can't help but hope finally catches a break. Much of that is due to Cooksley's impressively nuanced performance. With a furrowed brow, he provides more insight into Sam's character than any collection of words ever could.

With her dyed-green hair, over-sized black sweatshirt, and nearly ever-present scowl, Rose is a character that could easily be off-putting. However, Hope instills her with a magnetic beauty; for all of her sarcasm and insults, both Sam and Avery are uniquely drawn to her, in their own different ways. From the first moment that she sulks through the theater door, Hope makes it obvious that Rose's combative attitude is covering up a well of unresolved emotions. It is only in the rare moments when a dimpled smile escapes that you begin to see what's beneath the jaded exterior.

For both Hope and Cooksley, it takes a while to not chuckle at their Bostonian accents, which can come off as a bit too affected at times. However, there was something particularly precious about the fact that while Rose snarls at Sam and Avery, she has a tendency to sound like an adorable Boston Betty Boop.

In nearly every imaginable way, Avery is different than his co-workers; from his up-bringing, to his skin color, to his reason for working at this particular theater. Though his character learns to feel at home at The Flick, Cutler always maintains a sense of distance from the other employees, as if Avery is never quite sure that he can trust them, or himself. Cutler's charming uncomfortableness quickly transfers to the audience; you don't feel at ease with THE FLICK's awkwardness, until Avery does.

Though Avery and Rose share a connection, I was left somewhat wanting from the chemistry between Cutler and Hope. I never doubted the genuineness of anything between the two actors, but the characters share, or attempt to share, things they wouldn't with other people, so there should have seen a stronger link between them as the play progressed.

Not only is Bonnie Sprung's set (not featured in the photos accompanying this article) a remarkably accurate recreation of a dilapidated, second-run movie theater, but it is also a rather striking metaphor for what THE FLICK is; an opportunity to sit in the audience and see a difficult, dingy reflection of reality.

Though I was engrossed for every second, I am not sure that THE FLICK needed the entire three+ hours to tell its story. While the pacing and pausing certainly challenges theatrical conventions, I don't know that the same result couldn't have been achieved in 2:30 or 2:45.

Orlando doesn't often get to see top-notch productions of envelope-pushing theatre, so THE FLICK is a must-see for all serious theatre lovers in Central Florida. Not only is it a surprisingly humorous and fascinating deconstruction of theatre norms, but the three stand-out performances will likely cause you to think far more than theatre has in a longtime. If this is the caliber of story-telling that Gen Y has in store for Orlando, I am on-board. THE FLICK runs through July 12th in the gorgeous Alexis and Jim Pugh Theater. To purchase tickets, visit the Dr. Phillips Center's website, or call 1-844-513-2014.

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Did you take in the show at The Flick? Did you find Annie Baker's unorthodox story-telling refreshing or frustrating? Let me know what you thought in the comments below, or by "Liking" and following BWW Orlando on Facebook and Twitter. You can also chat with me about the show on Twitter @BWWMatt.

Photo Credit:
1) Marcellis Cutler, Daniel Cooksley, and Jessica Hope: Patty Wolfe
2) Marcellis Cutler, Jessica Hope, and Daniel Cooksley: Patty Wolfe
3) Marcellis Cutler and Jessica Hope: Patty Wolfe

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