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‘8 1/2 x 11’ at Dad’s Garage
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
THEATER REVIEW: “8 1/2 x 11: Live and Uncensored”
You can’t assess the vision of new Dad’s Garage artistic director Kate Warner by looking at a single show. But based on “8 1/2 x 11: Live and Uncensored,” the evening’s worth of short plays curated by Warner, life after Sean Daniels will be smarter, edgier, more likely to surprise, less likely to make you laugh.
 This grab bag of world premieres boasts work by significant American playwrights (“Urinetown” writer Greg Kotis), emerging artists with distinctive voices (Caridad Svich, Alice Tuan) and Atlanta playwrights of considerable promise (Lauren Gunderson, Steve Yockey).
 Alternately boring and stimulating, the show can be wild, adventurous, perplexing —- a trip that defies explication and teases the brain.
I’m glad I went along for the ride, but looking back over this hodgepodge of material, I’ll be darned if I can garner much enthusiasm for any of it.
 Yockey’s “Swallow” —- a monologue by John Benzinger about a gay man who’s discovered the erotic pleasures of “choking” (as in tightening a rope around the neck) —- is fascinating in the way that an explicit Mapplethorpe photograph is. You may not want to watch this sex addict’s scary confession —- he’s having trouble covering his bruises and swallowing —- and you wonder what’s causing all his pain and self-loathing. And yet the imagery (“the droning of a dial tone under water”) is clear and precise.
Svich’s Sapphic choreopoem is embarrassing and pretentious gobbledygook, but you admire actors Alison Hastings and Katy Carkuff for being brave enough to go there.
Nonconformity and dysfunction are recurring themes.
In Rich Hutchman’s “Hurtz,” three tense businessmen ride a bus to and from their presentations —- and eventually go ballistic. You’ve heard of fashion police? In Kotis’ “Sandal Man,” a guy goes to jail for wearing skimpy shoes, even though he just wanted to “save on socks.” In Tuan’s “Jordy,” a young boy’s dinner turns out to be his pet pig. Naturally, he’s traumatized.
Heather Woodbury’s “Eos, Daughter of Dawn” —- a diatribe against the war in Iraq —- is as horrifying as Greek tragedy. Screaming “George Bush, you killed my son,” a mother (Hastings) is a ball of anger and anguish. How could this happen?
Because “the angels weren’t there,” she says. “The angels were vomiting in a corner in disgust.”
After she pines for her “honey dumpling boy,” you wonder what a burlesque led by Chuckie the Cheerful Chicken has to do with anything.
But then, does anyone really care?
THE 411: 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays; 8 p.m. Monday; 5 p.m. Feb. 6. $18-$23; students $9 Thursdays. Through Feb. 26. Dad’s Garage Theatre, 280 Elizabeth St. N.E., Suite C-101, Atlanta. 404-523-3141, www.dadsgarage.com.
The verdict: Dad’s Garage enters its painful adolescent stage.
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By Caron
February 3, 2005 1:43 PM | Link to this
My husband and I saw this show this past Friday. We enjoyed the first half, but the second half was not so great! See this first then go have drinks at Sotto Sotto!