Undermain Theatre opened Sam Shepard’s Action on Nov. 6, an early play by the prolific writer. At less than an hour, a whole lot happens in this expanded vignette directed by Christina Cranshaw. And also, nothing happens. The four actors committed to the absurdity of Shepard’s story to deliver an experience that was simultaneously exhilarating and exhausting.
Let me see if I can summarize this.
The basic premise centers on four people (maybe two couples?) sitting at a table in an undefined space with Christmas lights hinting at the time of year. The dialogue and evident trauma offers hints that something apocalyptic has isolated these four who may or may not have been forced together. They have aimless discussions in anticipation of the holiday dinner Liza will make. These four may just be those of us who isolate from the awful world on fire right now, but also, what the fuck? One could make comparisons to Beckett’s Godot of these folks waiting for something, but I found myself waiting for the ending.
The play felt like a fever dream. They tore at the turkey like animals. They dragged large furniture for no real reason. There was inexplicable choreography, adults play-acting as grizzlies, clothes revolving on a line and a bucket of dirty fish water with a dead fish that had zero dignity by the end. If you imagine how the Undermain space smelled during the show, you’re probably right.
I’m not sure how Cranshaw and Robert Winn (set) and Steve Woods (light) created a stillness in the air, but Action’s aura felt desolate and palpable which was its own achievement. Kudos to the cast who almost had to endure Shepard’s story. They inhabited this rather barren landscape with conviction.
As Liza, Mikaela Baker was the mother figure whose vacant detachment was well-crafted. Sienna Castaneda Abbott’s Lupe brought a drifted touch to her blank-faced character. Both actors conveyed a sense of banality that drowned anything else their characters could – or used to offer.
Taylor Harris did wonders as the oafish Shooter who was part brute and brat. If there was a center to Action, it was Jeep played with remarkable existentialism by Caleb Mosley. He conveyed much through his eyes, but the play’s physical action demanded much from Jeep and how Mosley performs that role – particularly the turkey/fish combo no one ordered – was proof of his layered talent.
The irony of Action was that it almost dared you to watch with its assault on the senses. The play was acted with extraordinary skill that perhaps achieved Shepard’s vision, but when the lights came up, the strongest feeling was not any sort of revelation, just a baffled emptiness.
The show runs through Dec. 7.
–Rich Lopez
