It is tempting to describe Liz Duffy Adams’ comedy, Dog Act, in terms of other familiar post-apocalyptic scenarios—like “Mad Max goes on Cormac McCarthy’s The Road and performs Vaudeville.” However, the fact is that Dog Act, which opened last weekend at Flying Anvil Theatre for a run until February 17, is unlike any other post-apocalyptic work you are likely to see—and for one reason. It embraces the whimsy of language with a fresh confidence and lyrical boldness—curiously, not unlike Shakespeare. Admittedly, however, this is a language that has evolved strangely, if not organically, twisted by misappropriated literature, history, and jargon.
First produced in 2004 by the Shotgun Players in Berkeley, California, Adams’ Dog Act seems uncannily prescient in its view of a post-apocalyptic world—tribes have long ago supplanted governments; the seasons change quickly, unexpectedly, and theatrically; and comically mutant animals are a chief source of food. In that world, traveling vaudevillians seem to represent the last vestiges of decent society and culture among the various tribes, albeit vestiges in which original meanings and intentions have been lost. Their stated philosophy of life seems to be “the show must go on.”
Two such vaudevillians are Zetta, whose full name is later discovered to be Rozetta Stone (Deb Weathers), and Dog (John Simmins), traveling with their cart packed with colorful and useful props and costumes, and similarly colorful, but useless junk. Wandering the landscape, heading east for the sea and, ultimately, to a mysterious place called China, the pair have an unusual understanding. Dog has taken a “voluntary species demotion” from human to canine, a reaction to a past trauma. The pair comes upon Vera Similitude (Deborah Webb) and her companion Jo Jo (Lauren Winder), who has recently escaped the clutches of two scavengers, Bud (David Snow) and Coke (Joe Casterline) seeking to “recycle” her. If Zetta and Dog’s language has evolved colorfully, Bud and Coke’s language comically suggests what happens when the ill-educated are given weapons and turned loose on the world.
Directed with physical energy and a breathless pacing by Jayne Morgan, Dog Act is quite the vehicle for Weathers who has mastered the hilarious, unpredictable streams of language delivery that jolts and surprises, tumbles and lurches. Simmins’ moves his Dog along with an entertaining visual portrayal of loyalty and usefulness. His narrative moment comes with a softly emotional explanation of his past that serves as a psychological relief valve, allowing him to eventually reconsider his relationship with Zetta. Winder, too, has virtuosic moments in which she mounts a soapbox and delivers a narrative outburst—uh, lie—at top speed without breaking its non-rhythm.
Erin Reed‘s costumes are a feast of bizarre function and whimsy, as are the set and props by John Ferguson and Jan Valenti. Those looking for a traditional bleak, monochromatic landscape will have to look elsewhere; this world seems to have luscious greens and golds, thanks to lighting by John Chemay.
Whether or not one gravitates to post-apocalyptic scenarios for drama or comedy, those who enjoy a journey through the twists and turns of language, and side-trip suggestions of what our present could become, will want to take in this Dog Act. While you may not arrive at the expected destination, you will undoubtedly find performance treasures along the way.
Dog Act by Liz Duffy Adams – Directed by Jayne Morgan
Flying Anvil Theatre
1300 Rocky Hill Road
Website
Through February 17: Thursdays-Saturdays at 7:30 PM; Sundays at 2:00 PM
