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What could be more timely than an evening of original plays about immigration in America by a young South Asian-Filipina group known as Desipina & Co.? With newspaper front pages and television screens bursting of late with images of millions marching for immigrants' rights from such far-flung and exotic locales as Idaho and Nebraska, it would seem not only opportune but downright serendipitous to stage an evening of plays right here, right now about the immigrant experience in America. At the very least, such a bill should provide a refreshing antidote to the usual fare by and for comfortable, upscale white folks. Right? Well ... What could be more bewildering, frustrating and disappointing than an evening of missed opportunities, don't-wanna-go-theres and didn’t-even-tries by same said young Company? As strange as it may sound, Seven.11 Convenience Theatre (2006), Desipina's fourth annual look at immigrant life from both sides of the convenience store counter, is the whitest show in recent -- or even distant -- memory in NYC alt-theater. Thoroughly scrubbed of any discernible ethnic identity, insight or individuality, this Seven.11 seems to have set its sights no higher than a weekly slot on the WB, its apparent source of inspiration. As is oft-noted in reviews of mini-play programs, the short play form is deceptively difficult in its compressive demands. Here, above and beyond the baffling absence of any genuine ethnic presence or insight, most of the writing is simply not up to the demands of the short play discipline, substituting sloppy skit-writing for play craft and easy laugh-track punchlines for character development. Further weakening the struggling material is Darrow Carson’s flatlined direction, the repetitive limitations of which are exacerbated by the fact that he directs all seven plays. Besides lacquering each piece with a stylistic sameness that extracts any individuality from the writer's voice and gives the program the feel of having been dictated by committee, Carson seems to encourage the worst instincts in his young cast. As a result, rampant actor mugging and cheesy, high school-level grandstanding abound throughout. The result is a suffocating evening of colorless, relentlessly saccharine "wholesomeness" from which there is no respite or escape. Not that glimmers of the group's talent do not flicker through at times, despite all obstacles placed in its way. Jerold E. Solomon is consistently strong and charismatic in multiple roles, as are John Wu and Andrew Guilarte. The women in the ensemble, Meetu Chilana and Alicia Ying, seem poised throughout to do more, but aren’t given the opportunity for much beyond acting cute and perky and, above all, “funny,” which seems to be director Carson's overarching objective. As is also often the case with short play programs, the quality of the writing is wildly uneven and, overall, just not very good. J.P. Chan’s “The Old New World,” in which New Colonialist superpowers India, China and Brazil battle for possession of the found ruins of America, ca. 2106 (in the remnants of a 7-11, natch), manages best. Chan's play is far enough out there by premise to at least partially escape the cheerful asphyxiation of Carson’s direction. Others don’t fare as well –- the potential poignancy of Celena Cipriaso’s “Homecoming” never rises above relentless, one-note shrillness and Elizabeth Emmons’ “Undone,” which might have been a tense, multi-layered vignette of two girls trying to escape the arranged marriage of one, is instead condemned to the repetitive set-set-punch rhythm of a tired sitcom clone. The most disappointing element of the trip to this Seven.11 is not that Desipina & Co. tried and missed. It’s that they haven’t really tried at all. By presenting such relentlessly frivolous blandness, this young company seems to be saying that the immigrant experience here in New York City is the same as suburban white America's in Coto de Caza, CA; one laugh-track fits all. As recent events have shown, the huge, sleeping giant that keeps this country running whilst keeping its mouth shut has suddenly found its voice. It is a big voice, and it is a loud voice and it is not going to shrink back into the silent, invisible subservience white America might wish. And, as the packed house of a mostly audience-of-color at a recent performance at the Kraine would seem to indicate (as would the extension of Seven.11's run), there is a hunger out there for the immigrants' story in early 21st-century America. With the talent Desipina & Co. obviously has on the stage -- if not the page at this point -- here’s hoping next year’s Seven.11 -- if there is indeed a #5 -- stocks more than the Big Gulp of syrupy silliness served up here. Here's hoping they leave the freaking TV at home and aim to create theater about the immigrant experience here, theater that resonates and challenges and disturbs and reveals and provokes and rewards and endures, rather than something quickly forgotten the moment upon setting foot out on E. 4th Street. That is what the WB is for. "Seven.11
Convenience Theatre (2006)" Copyright © 2006 by theater2k.com. All rights reserved. |
