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| Friday, March 18, 2005 She's the object of his obsession Review: In its O.C. premiere, 'Boy Gets Girl' takes a literate approach to the lurid subject of romantic stalking. By ERIC MARCHESE Special to the Register In the movies, and in musicals, "boy meets girl, boy woos girl, boy gets girl." Happy ending, end of story. What often happens in real life, though, is that girl doesn't want boy after meeting him. So, what if he's unwilling to forget her and move on, and instead of "getting" the girl, he turns to trying to "get" her? That's the question playwright Rebecca Gilman explores in "Boy Gets Girl," taking viewers, from the woman's viewpoint, through a nightmare scenario that escalates from a seemingly innocent blind date to being pursued by a stalker. Rude Guerrilla Theater Company gives Gilman's 2000 play its Orange County premiere and, in doing so, lets half the population in on what it's like to be on the receiving end of a man's obsessive behavior. Yes, the experience is unpleasant for both sexes to have to witness, and, yes, the plot takes things in certain directions that are more or less predictable - but "Boy Gets Girl" is also thoughtful and literate, has a marked sense of humor, and avoids degenerating into the kind of lurid thriller someone of lesser skill than Gilman might make of it. We're with Theresa Bedell on a blind date with a guy named Tony. At first, Tony, a Midwest transplant to New York City, seems refined and pleasant. His smiling façade and self-deprecating manner, though, can scarcely hide such red flags as his being overly inquisitive about Theresa's education, career and life, and trying to force things too soon. At Rude G, David Pond's performance makes it obvious that something is terribly wrong: Tony is too eager, gives off an air of desperation and is just plain manic. Against her better judgment, Theresa agrees to a second date, and it's at this point that Jenn Carnett's portrayal of Theresa really starts to jell. Tony reveals too much information about himself, too soon. He grills Theresa about herself. He's intensely insecure and desperately needy. Uneasy, the alarm bells ringing, Theresa cuts the date short. What happens over the next few scenes is a downward spiral of hellish events that disrupt Theresa's carefully ordered life as a single woman with a successful career as a writer at a national culture-and-politics magazine. Tony's life, meanwhile, revolves around showing up at her office unannounced, sending her flowers and cards daily, finding her unlisted home phone number and calling her incessantly at work and at home. Gilman begins her tale innocently enough, then tightens the noose, all while showing how Theresa's life gradually implodes. Director Jody J. Reeves guides her cast to underplay the text, emphasizing realism over sensationalism - a wise choice, because Gilman's script so intelligently layers its various themes, and peppers them with literary references, that a sleazier, more graphic approach would torpedo the script. Carnett creates, then develops, a consistent characterization - a literate, intelligent, self-reliant woman with a disarming Brooklyn accent and soft, slightly self-effacing manner. As Tony ignores her pleas to be left alone, the desperation in Carnett's voice grows, and the actress takes us through every level of emotional distress the role requires: self-doubt, tears, distrust of the motives of male colleagues offering help, and a mounting sense of panic. Being stalked makes her re-evaluate every aspect of her life, affecting her view of herself. Like a rape, it's a violation of her personal space that discolors everything. (As a clever change-up, Amber Scott is wholly unruffled - and even a bit butch - as the female detective assigned to Theresa's case.) Tony aside, Gilman uses three key male characters to explore male-female relationships. Mercer (Alex Dorman), Theresa's newest colleague, argues that "normal male heterosexual behavior is somewhat psychotic," fueled by a culture that teaches men to look only at women's bodies, and women to desire that they be looked at. Howard (Kurt Jarrard), Theresa's gum-chewing editor and platonic buddy, argues that such behavior is biological and ingrained. Les Kennkat (D.E. Fitzgerald), a sexploitation-film director (and Russ Meyer parody, we presume) whom Theresa is profiling in a feature article, supports Howard's theory: He's a harmless old man with a dirty mind whose crude views and career choice rub Theresa the wrong way when her confidence in the male of the species is at its lowest. Credit Gilman for the ingenious way she draws in these other male viewpoints to provoke our own thoughts on the subject. Credit Reeves for soft-pedaling these guys, and Dorman, Jarrard and Fitzgerald for laying off on the testosterone. Cynthia Huyck's set design, one of the company's best, adds authentic detail to the magazine office and Theresa's apartment, while Erika Tai's sound design slyly plays up the obsessiveness that boy-girl romances take on in the pop culture arena. |
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| THEATER Vol. 10 No. 28 March 18 - 24, 2005
Are You Looking at My Tits? |
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