The Collected Works of Billy the Kid: On the Plains of Myth and Mystery
The Doghouse Theatre,
through June 17
Running time: 1 hr, 40 min
There ain’t nothin’ like sippin’ a beer and watching a poetic description of a man’s veins being dragged out of his neck by a chicken, while the man’s still alive, no less! “His dyin’ words were, ‘Git away from me, ya goddamn chicken!'” The Collected Works of Billy the Kid is rife with such anecdotes of men gut-shot and bleeding to death or surviving the hell of the desert drinking their own piss or kicking back and dancing with a few local ladies after a good long drink or engaging in an almost childlike game of hide-and-go-seek where being found surely puts a noose around one’s neck. Novelist Michael Ondaatje may be better known for his novel-turned-movie The English Patient, but his stories of outlaw Billy the Kid and sheriff Pat Garrett are well worth a look in a stage production that combines poetry, gore, historical pastiche, wit, and pathos.
The Doghouse Theatre’s production of Ondaatje’s work makes the most of both the collage-like writing and the intimate outdoor theatre that houses the production (The show is being performed in the director’s back yard in West Campus.). Through the blooming oleander, a three-piece combo (usually guitar, cello, and upright bass, with occasional trumpet or percussion) underscores the work of an ensemble of six who, chorus-like, tell the stories of Kid, Garrett, and the people who rode in and out of their lives. Like the dusk settling into the night, specific roles settle on individuals: Chris Sykes plays Billy the Kid, often open-mouthed and slouched, taking it all in with a rather childlike interest. Barton Marks plays Pat Garrett, a smiling character, ever watchful and waiting. Wendy Goodwin, as Miz Angela D., a courtly courtesan, and Traci Laird, as Sallie Chisum, friend to both leading men, bring to their roles a sense that even in telling their stories, they know more than they’re letting on, adding to that aura of mystery that surrounds the most infamous gunslinger. Paul Keith and Sara Patterson round out the sextet and while both offer some interesting work, there is something noticeably modern about them and their delivery that at times separates their characters from the play’s eerie historical sensibility.
Director Andre Carriere manages to keep things hugely entertaining with little more than a stone patio, the band, and a handful of props. He has great material with which to work, yet even so he has translated an otherworldliness to his own stage-bound storytelling, and he has his ensemble, musicians, and all connecting in ways that transcend simple play production. It’s easy to forget that you’re sitting in his back yard, the way the characters spring to life with poetry of words and movement.
In some places, the technical abilities of the actors makes it abundantly clear that you are indeed in a back yard watching dedicated but variously experienced performers in action. But not so often that it spoils the show. As the breeze moves the trees and the band plays a secretive waltz, you are transported to dark wooden houses on the plains where myth and mystery, and Ondaatje’s poetry, bring Billy the Kid to life.
This article appears in June 9 • 2000.