Although “Audit” was inspired by the “ethically dubious” vagaries of the payouts to families of victims of the terrorist attacks on the World…
By Eileen Morrison Darren
“Audit” is theater et al’s inaugural production in its new space, The Chocolate Factory, in Long Island City.
Although “Audit” was inspired by the “ethically dubious” vagaries of the payouts to families of victims of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center from the Federal 911 Fund, the premise serves only as a starting point for this thought-provoking work.
“Audit” not only examines the value of a human being’s life as it is calculated by the law, insurance companies, and the arbiters of the 911 fund, but also the insular nature of nuclear families in American society, families whose members are so self-centered that they are either oblivious to or apathetic about events which do not directly impact on their personal pleasure or well-being.
A fine ensemble cast portrays the auditor and the members of three disparate families who are locked into the rigid gender and class roles of an outdated American Dream as they live out identical lives like synchronized automatons. The company includes Bob Harbaum, Mikeah Ernest Jennings, Jen Daum, Stephanie Hyland, Aaron Rosenblum, Stephanie Braun, Megan Gaffney, Jenny Tibbels, Jennifer Lee Dudek, Gary Hennion, Dawn Springer, Nick Capodice, Kate Kita, and Rachael Shane.
The “auditor,” played by the engaging Jennings, examines each of their lives to determine its value under the supervision of the ubiquitous “agent of the laws of human nature,” performed on a huge projection screen with great authority by actor Bob Harbaum. The Big Brother-like judge keeps the auditor on the straight and narrow as he calculates the before- and after-death value of each human being,
The auditor first measures the “worth” of each person in terms of the physical attributes, such as face shape, breast size, penis length, height, and weight — all that makes them sexually “desirable,” a section which elicited many laughs from audience members. Value is added for annual earnings, with zero scores for stay-at-home moms and dads, students, and dancers, and bonus points for one white collar worker and a highly paid successful lawyer. Another, more telling measure is that a person may add greatly to his or her value if they are the victim of a heinous crime, or if their manner of death is particularly spectacular.
There is a detached and decidedly incurious attitude towards crimes and natural and other disasters that befall the people in other towns, states, and countries which extends to the government activities, including military actions, which are reported on the projection screen by a local television anchor. He assures listeners that, in spite of the approach of the ever-more-frequent explosions, screams, and alarms reported on the news, they should not be alarmed because these are “official” explosions, screams, and alarms. Finally, “official bombings” rain down on the families.
As the play progresses, the auditor, whose valuations represent the superficial values of the American public, becomes intrigued by Penelope, a daughter in one of the families who keeps a journal in which she keeps notes about what’s important about individual people.
Penelope is the beating heart of the piece, and acts as an observer, reminding the auditor that people have value, not based on their good looks or monetary worth, or because they were victims, but because the were human beings whose real value is based on intangibles like kindness, self-sacrifice, music, and writing. She tells the auditor: “I know what you do. Everyone does. They’re just so deep in denial.” Dudek’s performance as Penelope is an honest and moving one.
In the end, the emotional impact derives come from the human tragedy of the World Trade Center attacks, and no one who experiences this performance will leave the theater unmoved.
The young lions of theater et al have grown up with the plethora of stimuli that characterize modern life — electronic games, the personal computer, the Internet and picture-taking cell phones — as well as the old standbys like television, pop music, and big-screen movies (all of which exist in formats that our parents and grandparents could not have imagined as they sat in the flickering light of their black and white television sets).
This fact is apparent in the electrifying multimedia elements that make up the technical aspects of “Audit.” All of the video, sound, and music are implemented using Macintosh Power Book laptop computers, with G4 processors. Only the light cues are executed with a dinosaur DSI MC7008 mini-board.
The program credits give us a keen insight into theater et al’s “art nouveau” theater.
First, “Audit” is billed as “a new performance” rather than a play. And like all of theater et al’s shows, the creative process started with an idea. Therefore, there is a “conceived by” credit not usually seen in a theater program. In this case, “Audit” was conceived by Brian Rogers, Aaron Rosenblum and Ryan K. Vemmer, with text written by Vemmer.
Kudos to Garin Marschall whose set design credit, fittingly, is listed as “installation design,” and whose trio of identical living spaces for the families achieves a deconstruction of living space to match the deconstruction of the lives of their inhabitants. The set is available for viewing as a stand-alone installation art piece on Saturdays from noon to 5 p.m. throughout the run of the show.
“Audit” is beautifully directed by Brian Rogers, whose credits also include sound and music, both of which serve the production well. Rogers also teams with David Chikhladze for the video credits. It is worth noting that none of the myriad technical effects draws so much attention to itself that it distracts from the through line of the work.
The program should have included a choreography credit for the ensemble which created “Audit”’s extremely effective modern dance style movement in place of traditional staging or blocking for the show.
“Audit”’s theme is reminiscent of that of Neil LaBute’s play “the shape of things,” recently produced by The Outrageous Fortune Company at Queens Theater in the Park, which served as an stinging indictment of our society’s preoccupation with physical attributes, material possessions, and social status. Interestingly, that plot revolves around a graduate art student who unapologetically uses a young man as “installation art” for her dissertation.
Finally, the sight lines for this “sight-specific” production were less than optimal. Although the large projection screen is visible from any of the seats that are arranged around the perimeter of the theater, it is impossible to see any of the three small monitors from several seats in the theater. The term “sight-specific” simply refers to the fact that the play was produced in the factory loft space as it exists, and was not manipulated into a traditional theater configuration.
Do not miss this opportunity to see the first Queens production from theater et al, a company that has made its home right here in our backyard, and whose work may well have significance for the greater theater community.
Theater et al is just around the corner from the Citibank building, PS 1, and MoMA QNS. “Audit” runs through May 1, Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Mondays at 7 p.m. All performances are at The Chocolate Factory, 44-02 23rd St., 4th floor. There is an elevator.
Take the No. 7 train to 45th Road Courthouse Square (3rd stop in Queens); the E/V to 23rd Street Ely Ave (1st stop in Queens) or the G to Courthouse Square LIC).
Tickets are $15 and can be reserved by calling 718-482-7069. For more information go to www.theateretal.org.
Monday night performances are “pay what you will” for Queens residents: prove with license, utility bills, lease, or a picture of you with Fran Drescher.
