Alaskan Heat Blue Dot

Through March 27,
Hyde Park Theatre
Running Time: 1 hr

Prepare the altar, 'cause I'm comin' up to confess: I've always felt a curious coldness about performance art theatre -- nonlinear, if you want to get technical, strange and artsy if you wanna be dismissive. Without a story to hold onto, without characters with which to identify, I always felt strangely alienated. So it was with checked skepticism that I attended the premiere of this collaborative work written and directed by Laurie Carlos, which melds the experiences of a group of writers into one impressionistic experience of music, dance, and memory. No plot? No characters? Ugh, what's a literalist to do?

I was wrong.

At its heart, Alaskan Heat Blue Dot is about the things people want, and under that large thematic umbrella, a vast array of different things emerge. It may be love, or safety, or acceptance, or direction. It may be the warmth of the spotlight, or a partner to dance with, or a clean sink uncluttered by all those dirty dishes. And, as I had expected, I didn't fully understand it. I felt it.

Much of that owes to the fine work of the five featured actors -- Zell Miller III, Florinda Bryant, Clayton Murrell, Emily Cicchini, and Joni Jones. Each comes forward in turn to tell a story, memorable moments which, through the patchwork of playwright Carlos, speak to each other as the play unfolds. These tiny scenarios build up, layered with movement, music, sound.There's Miller yearning for enlightenment; Jones begging for the right directions; and perhaps most memorably, Cicchini skulking off to the refrigerator to find comfort. Reminiscent of her work on Sharon Bridgforth's blood pudding, Carlos' direction is strikingly imaginative and purposeful, as well as quite lovely to watch. Actors move around and against each other, almost like levers and pulleys in a machine, and yet, a naturalness remains.

This clarity of vision is apparent in each aspect of the production, from Kevin Freedman's layered textures of sound, to a crisp lighting design courtesy of Shannon M.M. January, to Leilah Stewart's ingeniously simple set design. Comprised of only a few pieces, the set integrates different threads from the play and then, like the play itself, makes those small things resonate. Add powerful flourishes like a string of lights or the multicolored jars lining the inside of a refrigerator door and you have a set that is a living, breathing part of the production.

The set itself becomes a topic of discussion among the group about a third of the way through. In fact, it is a curious occurence when all five actors become part of the audience and strike up a conversation. In what sounds like a transcript from a real bleary-eyed rehearsal, the quintet wrangle with the play's obliqueness and, ultimately, "what it all means." Led by Murell, obviously the voice of literalism here, the five bounce ideas back and forth, some legitimate, some quite a stretch. After spending so much energy trying to understand these actors' experiences, it's a relief to hear them speak outside their stage personas for once, cracking jokes, poking fun at each other. I won't spoil how it all ends, although I do wonder if, for someone less concerned with "getting it," such an intrusion doesn't ruin a bit of the magic.

But in the end, it's all about communicating with people, however you can. Carlos proves herself a playwright fiercely in touch with the limitlessness of the imagination, genuinely committed to sharing and enhancing the human experience through words and language. In what could just as easily be the play's mantra, we find the driving force behind the playwright and the players of Alaskan Heat Blue Dot: "What you don't say will kill you. What you don't share will drive you crazy." It didn't make me roll my eyes, and it didn't leave me cold. In fact, it made me feel quite warm. --Sarah Hepola