EATING ANDY WARHOL

The Secret Warhol Rituals

by Stephen DiLauro
Directed by the author
Tribeca Lab

Reviewed by Marshall Yaeger



Since the plot of this show concerned much ado about a suitcase worshipped by members of your average group therapy session from hell, the realest parts seemed to be the crackers and tomato juice served free by the congenial producers during intermission. It was hard to fathom what was at stake for the characters - although a gun went off and a woman was terrorized.

The mixture of performances may have been appropriate for an homage to Andy Warhol, whose movies often cast real eccentrics. But too little energy and synergy amongst a collection of misfits caused some of the performances to irritate more than they amused.

Thus Jess Caboni as a nudge whose claim to fame was attending 20,000 gallery openings delivered a full bag of stale tricks - from Durante impersonations to rabbinical inflections - to make his character obnoxious. Laura Fay Lewis as Maggie sashayed as much around the surface of her character as the stage. And Raymond De Marco, as the Grand Impresario, seemed to have made less than serious acting choices in portraying the deadbeat organizer of his coven.

But David Steinberg was fine as Coach Larry, a handy man on roller skates or dribbling a basketball. Debbie Rochon knows how to radiate sexual energy. Tony Jackson played a fetishist who yearns for Africa while reciting Latin phrases in ridiculous body poses. And Julie Taylor (whose parody of a colleague's performance showed how the role should really have been done) and Seamus McNally as a Warhol crazy were a pleasure to watch.

The lighting by Alan Chin was fine until it tried some surreal effects without assistance from any set to help suspend disbelief. (A poster board swung back and forth when actors accidentally hit it!)

Diane Specioso, whose skill with tackiness was higher than her costume budget, made the most of her opportunity to dazzle with wizard's costume, wedding veil, silver shorts, tiara, African hat, and matching cummerbund - and eight great soup cans on everybody's head!

Some directorial touches pleased: the use of the kazoo and an unidentified drill tool were brilliant. A scene change with scant light and characters marching around a circle showed us what the whole play could have been like.

New plays usually start well and run out of speed. Oddly, this one started to deliver its true tackiness and comedic absurdity near the end - or was it the tomato juice finally kicking in?

Perhaps the central question is: Would Andy have loved it?

What's certain is: He'd have taken lots of Polaroids and been truly interested in your opinion.



Reviewed on March 21, 1995

Copyright 1999 Marshall Yaeger

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