Zachary Scott Theatre Center’s Kleberg Stage
Through Aug 29
Running Time: 2 hrs
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Director Dave Steakley has joined forces with two comic heavy-hitters, and the result is this jaunty, goofball screamer, less a sustained thriller than two hours of senseless, giddy fun, in which its stars, Martin Burke and Joe York, switch characters, mug mercilessly, and prove why they’re two of the most popular actors working in Austin today. Set in 19th century Mandacrest, Charles Ludlam’s Irma Vep is an outrageous melodrama whose mystery unfurls in the cavernous, haunted halls of a Victorian mansion, where Lord Edgar Hillcrest (Burke) has just taken his new bride, Enid (York), following the death of his wife, Irma Vep. But the first lady of the house is not so ready to be replaced, as discovered by the newlyweds, along with their hired help, the prim Jane (Burke) and the burly, lumbering Scotsman, Nicodemus (York). And soon, doors slam mysteriously, chilling sounds not quite human ricochet through the foggy moors and into the living room, lightning claps across the countryside, and no one is quite who they seem to be. In harried, desperate attempts to uncover what’s behind all this madness, the four characters scurry through the halls, into the night, and even to the ancient ruins of Egypt, but wherever they turn, monsters and mayhem are sure to follow. Heaping together all the well-worn conventions of the Thirties horror films, Irma Vep makes about as much sense — and is about as plausible — as its predecessors. But to harp on such things would be to miss the point — Irma Vep is a pull-out-the-stops, comic joyride, a theatrical tour de force which stretches the limits of believability while skewering genre, gender, and theatrical and film clich�s all in one confident thrust. Broad and campy, the humor halts at times, but take heart: There’s always a new and improved gag right around the corner. Despite the presence of two actors known for playing it over-the-top, there is not a trace of one-upmanship; rather, the pair seem as if they are joined in some comic conspiracy, playing off each other skillfully and gaining much mileage out of being physical foils, with Burke the diminutive, nimble beauty and York the beefy, chiseled strongman. But it is York who truly thrills here, delivering a performance that is outrageous and assured, predictably campy but with streaks of comic brilliance. Embedded within this ultra-reliable performer lies an impish heart, and with the raise of an eyebrow or a flutter of his thickly mascaraed eyelashes, York hints that anything — anything, dahling — is possible, and that freewheeling spontaneity sends jolts of electricity through any performance. As is often the case in Zachary Scott’s productions, the performances onstage are equaled by those off. Allen Robertson has created sound effects and a live keyboard soundtrack that not only enrich the delicious atmospherics but are also laced with his own humble, appealing sense of humor. Without giving away any of the surprises — and the show is filled with many — Michael Raiford has constructed some clever, witty sets. And director Steakley orchestrates sharp moments of tension and release, although one gets the sense that these two actors weren’t as much directed as they were gently tamed. For fans of the genre — and even those who aren’t —Irma Vep is a must-see, sure to wriggle its way under the skin of even the most skeptical viewers. Not a fright night, exactly — but frighteningly funny. —Sarah Hepola
BILL LUNDBERG: OPENING: LANGUAGE OF THE BODY REVEALED
Blanton Museum of Art
Through Aug 8
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Bill Lundberg, professor of “transmedia” in the Fine Arts department at the University of Texas, has been exploring human interaction and social rituals though performance, film, and video for more than 30 years. He has shown his work internationally since the early 1970s, including solo and group exhibitions at the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York, the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago, the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh, and museums in Europe. Opening, his video installation now showing at the Blanton Museum, crosses the boundaries dividing film, performance, and conceptual art to discover a wholly unique form. In the piece, he creates a fictitious art opening by using mirrors to project filmed images of people talking at a party onto the floor, accompanied by a soundtrack of voices and background sounds. The central conceit is that the party has been filmed from directly above — thus transforming the guests below into flattened blobs of moving, babbling color — but also drawing attention to the curious, hilarious dance of the human body.
The effect is multidimensional and comically self-referential: We are offered a kind of performance piece in which audience members play a part — walking around the “party,” watching the guests, watching one other, and watching themselves in the overhead mirrors. Which all just draws attention to the ways that real life echoes Lundberg’s filmed fiction: As we look at the curious one-dimensional guests below like some colorful microorganism, everything from hair to footwear is suddenly seen in a new light. Against the background of the black floor, clothing designs seem bland and bombastic, accidental and purposeful; the art party people are a faceless collection of swinging hands and haircuts, a bundle of movements and gestures. More than anything, Opening is the language of the body revealed, the awkward and elegant unconscious physical rhythms of people talking to one another. At the same time, Lundberg has created a unique canvas, a painterly medium — film projected onto a floor screen — which is not merely a vehicle for narrative, but also a profoundly aesthetic experience in its own right. If you happen to be an aspiring actor, social scientist, fashion designer, or artist, this is right up your alley.
Opening is accompanied by prints and another Lundberg installation, Madeline.— Ben Willcott
This article appears in August 6 • 1999 and August 6 • 1999 (Cover).