Review: CRAVE at Intiman Theater

CRAVE, Sarah Kane’s stylistic one-act play, is an uncompromising plunge into the raw, chaotic landscape of human emotion. Now performing at Intiman Theater, this is a 50 minute concept piece that seems to revel in its own disarray. In true avant‐garde fashion, the play introduces us to four enigmatic characters–A (Lathrop Walker), B (Christopher Morson), C (Marya Sea Kaminski), and M (Alexandra Tavares)–whose disjointed, abstract musings recall the erratic pulse of late 90s beat poetry. Their relationships remain a mystery, their interactions sparse, each figure channeling a distinct, seething rage that resonates deeply with our current socio-political climate.

There is no story. It is often unclear to whom each line is addressed. Sometimes characters go on emotional tangents with themes of longing, other times they scream, apropos of nothing. At one point B has a one-person rave to techno for 2 minutes. They all operate within the confines of their own worlds, occasionally acknowledging but never validating each other. It starts gradually, and ends suddenly. It reads as more performance art than a play.

The actors' performances are mesmerizing. Despite the absence of a coherent narrative, the cast’s dynamic, visceral portrayals elevate the piece, imbuing every gesture and soliloquy with intensity. They each made character choices, despite there not really being characters, which is a marvel. That all four actors were able to evoke tangible, relatable experiences with such a tough, disjointed script is triumphant, doubly so with how little each actor interacted with each other. 

One cannot help but feel that the script of this avant-garde Inside Out teeters on the edge of exploitation; the flippant treatment of really harrowing topics–—rape, incest, pedophilia, drug addiction, disordered eating, murder, and suicide—occasionally laced with levity and an overuse of jarring language, feels tasteless, and undercuts what might have been a more nuanced commentary on societal ills. Those types of topics need to be in the context of stories that are grounded, honest, and sincere. This could have been Sarah Kane writing authentically, but it reads as sophomoric. It also feels clumsy to put on this play now. Perhaps this was provocative in 1998, but what, I wonder, is meant to be provoked in 2025 when a script says, for example, that it’s impossible for a man to be sexually assaulted? And if, truly, we’re supposed to interpret this language on a poetic plane, not a literal one, then the poetry of the language should be more, dare I say, poetic. As a concept play, the cleverness of its writing is the key to its success; therefore, for me, it does not succeed.

Despite not liking the content, I thought Director Roger Benington's interpretation had high points. Beginning with a gentle fade of ambient sound and light, invites us into this raw, ephemeral space—a subconscious playground where feeling trumps reason. The sparse, claustrophobic set by Jennifer J. Zeyl—punctuated by a nod to David Lynch through its suggestive drapery and the reflective pool of water—creates an almost otherworldly space, and the reflecting pool's ripples created a gorgeous effect on the set's frame.

While the uncompromising performances and bold directorial choices ensure that CRAVE leaves a lasting, if uneasy, impression, the play’s handling of dark subject matter reads as insensitive. In a time when our collective mood teeters on the brink of confusion, sorrow, and rage, CRAVE offers an audacious, if at times painfully dated, exploration of what it means to simply feel. But, is it enjoyable? No. It’s a production that challenges its audience to confront the messiness of human emotion—a task it undertakes with all the pretentiousness of a relic from 1998. Boy, did a lot of this age poorly. Even if you’re a fan of more avant-garde theater, I think this is one that you can skip.

Grade: C-

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