Creepy 'Bug' takes theatrical conventions by the throat
By: PAM KRAGEN - Staff Writer | ∞
"Bug"
When: 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays; 2 and 7 p.m. Sundays; through Nov. 12
Where: Cygnet Theatre, 6663 El Cajon Blvd., San Diego
Tickets: $22-$26 (play contains nudity, drug use and graphic violence)
(619) 337-1525
Web: www.cygnettheatre.com
Tracy Letts' "Bug" isn't so much a play as it is a thrill ride through the psychotic delusions of Peter Evans, a schizophrenic man holed up in an Oklahoma motel room. Along the way, Peter's lover, Agnes, gets swept up in his paranoia and the audience is dragged along with them to the bloody and bizarre conclusion.
"Bug," in its regional premiere at Cygnet Theatre this month, is a theatrical experience like no other. More cinematic than literary, "Bug" dispenses with the usual theatrical devices and instead unfolds like scenes from a darkly comic pulp-fiction film.
The off-Broadway hit and surprise 2005 Obie Award winner is for the adventurous theatergoer. The play features extensive nudity, graphic violence, rampant drug use and language and, on top of that, it's just plain creepy. Letts (whose play "Killer Joe" featured similar macabre subject matter) and director Sean Murray want to take the viewer inside Peter's confused mind so it's never completely clear at each step of this weirdly fascinating journey what's fact and what's fiction.
The audience knows it's in for something different right away with a 15-minute series of linear, wordless scenes where Agnes, a hard-living, middle-aged waitress passes the time in her seedy motel room with long stretches of tedium startlingly interrupted by the loud ringing of the telephone. Her violent ex-husband, Jerry, is out on parole and wants to pick up where they left off, and she suspects he's the heavy breather on the line.
The frequent calls create such a fearful situation for the desperately lonely Agnes that she's primed and vulnerable when a handsome stranger, Peter, arrives and offers her his gentle, hesitant companionship. Peter has his quirks ---- a morbid fear of insects and some odd ramblings about secret codes, hidden images and people chasing him ---- but because of her neediness, Agnes (still grieving over the unsolved abduction of her 6-year-old son many years before) overlooks the warning signs.
Fueled by round-the-clock drug binging and a growing interdependence, Peter gradually sucks Agnes into his fantasy world involving microscopic insects implanted in his teeth as part of a secret government experiment program in Afghanistan.
To say any more about the violent, escalating craziness that fills the second act would spoil the surprise, but Letts plants tiny nuggets of detail in each scene that will have the audience wondering whether some of Peter's ramblings just might be true.
Great demands are placed on the cast and they rise to the occasion. Robin Christ gives a powerful, achingly sustained performance as Agnes. Made up to look harsh and addled, the bone-thin Christ seems every inch a woman hanging on to life by the chewed ends of her fingernails. As Peter, John DeCarlo masterfully builds his character from boyishly timid and nervous to crazed, knife-wielding conspiracy theorist.
Manny Fernandes and Monique Gaffney provide much-needed comic relief as Agnes' ex, Jerry, and her tough-talking lesbian friend, R.C., who both watch helplessly as Agnes sinks into madness and paranoia. And Jim Chovick makes a brief but effective appearance as Peter's mysterious caretaker, Dr. Sweet.
No character in the play is likable, but through their naturalistic performances, the cast makes these people real and their motivations buyable.
The physical production reflects the mania closing in on Peter and Agnes. George Ye's sound design gradually builds to incorporate near-endless flyovers from imaginary helicopters that rumble the seats in the theater. Eric Lotze's frantic lighting uses harsh colors and flashing strobes. Veronica Murphy's costumes, particularly Agnes' tacky, skin-baring ensembles, create an authentic white-trash feel.
"Bug" runs two hours, 30 minutes, with intermission. Except for a slow start that keeps the play from engaging the viewer for the first half-hour or so, it's a gripping ride through colorful and often-funny psychosis.
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