BPF: "Perpendicular" at Vagabonds

◊◊◊ 1/2 out of five. 

I think this review might be totally different had I rushed right home and written it after leaving Vagabonds' production of Joe Dennison's Perpendicular.  Instead, I slept on it – well, tossed and turned on it, because it wouldn't stop going through my mind.  I still have the same quibbles with the piece –the fourth of nine in this year's Baltimore Playwrights Festival.  But, it also has that intangible "thing" that makes it just a little bit better than most plays like it. 

On the surface of it, Mr. Dennison's play is a trite rehashing of any number of Lifetime movies mixed with recent sitcoms where the husband is a lazy goofball, while the wife longs for more.  The male characters of the play are neo-Neanderthals – think TV's King of Queens or Still Standing, or any number of films, including Dumb and Dumber or The Wedding Crashers (this film gets mentioned a couple of times in the play, even).  This combination is always good for a few chuckles, but as the play goes on and it becomes apparent that no new ground will be covered in this area, it gets stale.  The ladies in the play fare no better, new ground-wise.  The wife wants more than the house in the 'burbs and the kid in the yard that she smothers, so like so many before her, she packs her bags and flies off to an exotic locale (Paris in this case) to "find herself."  She actually says this very phrase, "find myself," several times!  The other women, a wacky ex-patriot new age Bohemian and a widow with common sense, clichés both, swoop in and enlighten the wife and husband, respectively.  Now, that's the surface.  But there are also the small touches throughout the play that make this better than your average marriage-in-crisis dramedy.  

First, there is the staging by first time director Susan McCarty.  She has smartly gotten rid of most of the eye clutter, and focused her attention on the actors and the action.  The same black box set serves as a house filled with unfinished repairs, a kitchen (I'm assuming there isn't a TV in the dining room, and not table and chair set in the living room), a Parisian café, and a painters' loft.  One of Ms. McCarty's inspired choices is using a small ladder to represent a renovation project going nowhere (just like the ladder) in one scene, a painter's easel in another scene, and then neatly lit (by Erik Morra), the ladder in shadow becomes the Eiffel Tower!  Another nice touch is the window that comes in and out when we are in the home of this couple.  A wonderful symbol on the part of both playwright and director, the window separates the parents from their child, and therefore, any real responsibility for his actions (he is unseen throughout, but we find out he plays in mud, strips his GI Joe dolls, sings to himself and can't seem to make friends).  It also shows us literally, and figuratively, that this marriage is full of being stuck on the inside, always looking out.  It makes the wife's final observation all the more poignant.  I paraphrase: "The grass may be greener other places, but the sky is the same everywhere." (My apologies to Mr. Dennison for butchering the line.)  In other words, "There's no place like home." – Again, a cliché, but artfully executed. 

The other thing that makes this less trite and more interesting than typical are a few key moments executed nicely by the cast.  While in Paris, our desperate housewife shares a table with another American, Dahlia, played with quirky richness by the always delightful KC O'Connor.  When she enters the temperature in the room skyrockets and she explodes on the stage.  Though much of what she has to say is mostly an updated version of what every character like her has said before, Ms. O'Connor delivers each speech like it was a one of a kind French pastry.  She is funny, down to earth, and puts a creative spin on the rude American shtick that is usually so embarrassing to watch.  Later, this same actress plays a completely opposite woman – a widow – who helps our desperate husband after he injures himself walking (yes, just walking – what a dork).  In just a few moments, she makes a complex character, full of calm confidence and an underlying sexiness, which is just enough to make you wonder (and even more – care) if they "will or won't." 

Upon her return home from Paris, the feeling of awkwardness between husband and wife is palpable, and you start to realize that never once in the play up to this point has even a second of intimacy or love been shared between the two.  As the two wrestle back and forth for control of the situation, just when you think there is no hope, they finally grab each other and share a passionate embrace.  What makes this special and not soap opera-ish is the split second look of desperation/love/fear of rejection in the husband's eyes, and even a genuine tear or two, and the look of relief/love/lust in the wife's eyes.  This I credit to the actors – Mike Martin and Belinda Panelo.  The director may have blocked it, and the playwright might have scripted it, but the sparks were all theirs. 

This payoff really brings Mr. Martin's portrayal full circle.  At the start of the play, he really nails the whole male decompression thing – something it seems very few women understand.  When a guy comes home from work, all he wants to do is take off his shoes, put up his exhausted feet, and veg out in front of the TV – usually ESPN, Spike or some other manly channel.  Similarly, Ms. Panelo nails the housewife stuck in a routine thing excellently.  Oblivious to her husband's tired dismissal of her, she plows through the daily litany of what went wrong with the kid today, the nagging "you never finish what you start" bit, and the "you don't appreciate me for everything I do" whining.  What both don't realize, and this play does so well, is that they are in such a rut that each sounds like off-air static to the other.  Like so many marriages, they are running together, parallel, never intersecting – or becoming perpendicular (excellent title!).  Her European adventure and his subsequent learning to survive on his own, of course, makes them appreciate what they have, and understand that every once in awhile, they need to bang into each other, just to make it work. 

The one misstep in the cast is Michael Bryne Zemarel as Hoyt (the other half of the tedious Dumb and Dumber pair) and as Henri, the fake French portraitist who gets the wife up into his loft for a painting, maybe more.  As Henri, he barely registers at all.  As Hoyt, Mr. Zemarel practically eats the stage, he is chewing the scenery so much.  He works so hard at being the goof-off dumbbell he is that not a moment of his performance comes across as genuine.  It is 100% affected, and thus after about three minutes becomes just so much background noise.  I wanted to scream, "Shut up, already!"  There are a couple of times when Mr. Dennison works in opportunities for the character to come down a notch and contribute to the emotional core, but Mr. Zemarel wastes both chances.  His performance also somewhat diminishes Mr. Martin in this lengthy scene.  Martin brings his performance down to Zemarel's level, a dynamic that works for a few minutes then get old fast.  Mr. Martin's delivery even changes, as he makes every single line in the scene seem off the cuff, smart ass improvisation.  Of course, according to his biography, he is heavily involved in improv troupes in the area.  Maybe that's what he's going for, but it doesn't work here. 

Mr. Dennison proves that there is much more to a relationship than what is on the surface, be it between husband and wife or play and audience.  Perpendicular is one of those plays that is more than the sum of its parts.

 

PHOTOS:  TOP to BOTTOM: The cast of Perpendicular – (Front, L to R) KC O'Connor as Doreen, Mike Martin as Buck, Belinda Panelo as Donna, and Michael Bryne Zemarel as Hoyt (TOP) KC O'Connor as Dahlia and Michael Bryne Zemarel as Henri; The widow helps Buck: Mike Martin and KC O'Connor; Henri paints Donna: Belinda Panelo and Michael Bryne Zemarel.

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