Lions
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McKenzie, Dillman
William Still
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By Ben Miles
What's it like to be on the precipice of economic calamity--not as a nation, per se (though that's part of it), but as an individual? This is the focus of Vince Mellocchi's latest play, Lions, now in its world premiere at Venice's Pacific Resident Theatre.
Under Guillermo Cienfuegos's down-to-earth direction, we are given a warts-and-all character study in a vein similar to that of an Arthur Miller or Eugene O'Neill conceit. The protagonist here is John (Spook) Waite (an affectingly intense Matt McKenzie). As the staging begins, Spook is an unemployed, but sturdy and ever hopeful, metalworker. He now spends his days at a neighborhood watering-hole called The Tenth Ward Club, in blighted Detroit.
Some of these D-town denizens have become so desperate that they will take whatever is available in terms of a job. One member of Spook's circle-of-friends--they call him "Biscuit" (embodied impressively by Haskell V. Anderson, III)--has been reduced to picking up the corpses of derelicts and crime victims from the city streets. It's nasty duty, but somebody's got to do it; and, besides, Biscuit receives $14 for each body he "bags."
The one ray of optimism for The Tenth Ward bunch (comprised of an array of off-beat barflies, all with darker psychic hues than any of the customers seen on TV's Cheersseries), is the weekly football event centered around the loveable but losing Detroit Lions. But Melocchi's play is not so much about sports, though athletic terminology, N.F.L. factoids, and the names of various players and jock personalities are used liberally throughout the proceedings. The story is really, to use Arthur Miller's coinage, a tragedy of the common man. When Spook at last begs Biscuit to pull some strings so that he too can sack the city's dead ones, it is heartbreaking; then in a surprise on-a-dime turn, the action becomes ferocious and danger lurks. In another dramatic crescendo, Spook's wife, Beth (a remarkably authentic Valerie Dillman), confronts him at The Club--in front of his compatriots, no less--with full feminine fury. Not only is Spook left reeling from this embarrassing encounter, we in the audience feel his and her pain.
Director Cienfuegos has also designed the set as well as the sound motif, and it's as if he lifted the entire ambiance from the corner tavern. A pool table, bar stools, neon signs, and a dart board with the infamous face of the former Lions' general manager, Matt Millen, pinned to it, all serve to infect the mise en scene with a shaded uneasiness.
Lions is a timely two-and-a-half hour staging with an A-list cast and high production values. If you don't know an unemployed person (unlikely in this day and age) you'll feel as if you've met several in this hyper-real and unsettling play.
Lions" continues on Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m., and Sundays at 3 p.m., through May 3. The Pacific Resident Theatre is located at 703 Venice Boulevard, Venice. For reservations, dial (310) 822 - 8392. For online ticketing, visit www.PacificResidentTheatre.com.
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