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First, let me say that if you’re looking for something to do and you haven’t seen Slow Girl, then go and see it at Dobama: I was there opening night and enjoyed the play.

Leighann DeLorenzo (Director) did a fantastic job keeping the pace taught on a play that has a good potential to drag or, to be punny, slow. Let’s face it, a two hander with a middle-aged man and a teenage girl that involves heart-to-heart conversations has a great likelihood of not working. After all, what really is there to discuss? Delorenzo also does a great job in balancing the serious nature of the questions (stated or not) at play and the humor that often occurs due to the imbalance of experience between the characters.

In the case of Greg Pierce’s play there actually is a bit to discuss and the exposition is handled deftly. Information is released reluctantly and at the right time with a good bit of audience interest necessary to tease out and discover what actually is going on. The teenage girl, Becky (Miranda Leeann Scholl), is difficult to trust. The mystery surrounding her present difficulty is not immediately clear nor is her role in the problem that she has. Her maternal uncle, Sterling (Christopher Bohan) is a mirror image of Becky in his own problems. Both have experienced social events that scar them and leave them ambivalent about engaging with people. The two are, however, forced to interact because of proximity and blood relations.

Becky is short for Rebecca, which is Hebrew for “a snare.” According to “Behind the Name,” Sterling can be a surname from the Scotish city of Stirling, whose meaning is lost to time; or the embodiment of the name for silver which, apparently, Norman coins bore, meaning “star.” A snare is a small trap for catching birds, and it is perhaps significant that the eponymous “Slow Girl” of the play is wearing bird wings at a party and claiming to be able to fly. The question remains, is Becky the snare or has she herself been ensnared.

Society has always been a prickly pear. Reading my literary history works that keep certain writings in context, one quickly learns that the social structures and opinions of a time period often had great influence on a writer: think Lord Byron or Percy Bysshe Shelley, etc. Nowadays the pressure has intensified with the almost claustrophobic presence of social media. Your failure to behave appropriately in virtually any circumstance can be the instantaneous trigger for your eternal damnation. It is no surprise, then, that these two characters find themselves ensnared in a milieu of their own making.

The play is about more than the events that place Becky and Sterling in their respective darkness, however. It is not a play about overcoming not the social response to an event, but to strengthening yourself to handle it: to confront what you have done, make a decision about its correctness, to gain confidence in your own certainty about events, and to move forward. In this regard, both characters need each other to do so. Before they can move forward, however, they need to expose themselves to each other, which means letting the crusty defensive exteriors break and fall apart.

While there are several ways that this is accomplished in the play, the most dramatic is the labyrinth on the floor—modeled on that of Chartres Cathedral, I believe. In this case, the labyrinth is a contemplative force: meditative. Like that in Chartres, you walk the path of the labyrinth and consider the trap you’ve found yourself in. Hopefully, through meditation, you’ll find your way clear to understanding your position: if not your way out. Labyrinths are everywhere in the past, from the maze that Daedelus hazards against the dreaded Minotaur to the spiral carvings on stones outside of Celtic barrows. We are always spiraling in and out of consciousness, in and out of this world, in and out of ourselves, in and out or own precarious situations and habits. This is a play about how two ensnared people help each other out. It is only through this lens that the ending can be appropriately understood.

The actors did a great job in this production and Laura Carlson Tarantowski’s set design is impeccable.

Saw Dobama’s production of [amazon_link id=”0822225484″ target=”_blank” ]Stephen Adly Guirgis[/amazon_link]’ play on Friday night, then hit La Cave Du Vin for some beers afterward. On a few occasions during the play I found myself looking forward to the beers, but for the most part it was a good play. I thought the acting was great and Boduszek’s directing was solid, though I don’t know if some of the “longer” parts that made me wish for beer were due to pacing or if they just needed cut down by Guirgis.

The Motherfucker with the Hat is a play about love and trust, and ultimately how love is stronger than a trust that gets violated. This is unfortunate for the main character, Jackie (Jeremy Kendall), who has devoted his whole life to loving Veronica (Anjanette Hall), a woman whose drug addled brain doesn’t seem worth the dedication that Jackie is displaying. Jackie is no saint, having his own addiction problems, and having done 24 months for selling; but at least Jackie is on the wagon and trying to get straight. Helping him cope with the newfound straightness and his past addiction problems is his Sponsor and friend Ralph D (Charles Kartali) as well as Jackie’s long mistreated cousin Julio (Jimmie D. Woody). I say Veronica “isn’t worth the dedication” because right off the bat Jackie comes home, excited, having finally found work, wanting to celebrate, only to stare at a strange hat on the bedroom table. Jackie knows it’s not his hat, and wants Veronica to tell him whose hat it is, hence the title of the play. She won’t, and launches into a tirade about how Jackie won’t trust her. Probably a good choice on Jackie’s part when the inevitable and predictable revelation is made that Jackie’s sponsor, Ralph D, is the offending Motherfucker. How it is that Jackie can smell the Aqua Velva and dick on the bed and not smell the Aqua Velva on his sponsor I will leave you to ponder, but the betrayal comes as a surprise to Jackie.

The play moves in a predictable structure of pairing off–Jackie and Veronica, Jackie and Ralph D, Jackie and Julio, Jackie and Ralph and Julio, Jackie and Veronica, Ralph and Veronica, etc., you get the point. At each interview we are taken deeper into the relationships between each pairing and into the past of each character. Guirgis does a great job with these pairing offs and tells stories and develops characters in a truly engaging way–such that I was pulled in and loved the stories that I heard. However, there were also times when Guirgis got off on tangents of philosophizing that were just too damn long. In particular is the mandatory scene where Jackie confronts Ralph D. about what he has done. There is the necessary physical altercation, during which Ralph D. unbelievably beats down a more physically impressive Jackie; and then the two “discuss” the matter in a more “mature” manner. Undoubtedly the two would fight, especially after the atrocious things that Ralph D. says to Jackie about Veronica (and what he did to her). It is less likely that Jackie would stick around for the ten or fifteen minutes (it seemed to me) that he did to hear Ralph D.’s defense of himself. I can understand the need on Jackie’s part to know why Ralph did what he did. I can understand that Ralph is a no-good amoral scumbag who takes advantage of situations to his own benefit. But the seemingly interminable cyclical nature of the scene was not necessary: Ralph castigates Jackie for ever getting arrested–after all, it was Jackie’s fault that he was sent to jail and left his woman alone–not Ralph’s fault for being a depraved ass-wad. Fine, I get it, but to let Ralph say it three, four times, as he justifies himself in some long-winded psycho-babbled philosophizing was too much. Not that I don’t believe that there are people like that: there are. And not that they don’t drone on and on: they do. But on stage it was too goddam long. And that wasn’t the only section that was long, and strangely so, given the tightness and the pop of other parts of the piece. It’s almost like some self-important workshop director got his hands on this and said “we really need a lot more here from Ralph so he can explain himself”. No, you don’t. You didn’t.

Anyway, there are some truly sizzling moments and Guirgis, to steal from [amazon_link id=”0385021747″ target=”_blank” ]Jean Shepherd[/amazon_link], works in “profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay”. Ultimately, Guirgis wins by painting a painful portrait of people who have betrayed themselves and each other and have tried their best to kill any hope or chance of love they have. Jackie’s love for Veronica is undoubtedly true, and that makes the outcome of the play all them more heartrending, but Guirgis holds no punches.