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review In the program notes for "Christopher St.", writer-director Michael Hebler states that it is time to stop associating every gay-themed play with AIDS, that it is his objective to "move on and explore the different venues theatre has to offer" gay characters. This is a welcome approach, and way, way out there on the back forty of one of those venues, a play is trying to take root and grow. Actually, about six plays are, and that's not the worst of it. The biggest problem with "Christopher St." is that it has absolutely no dramatic center. Physically, Hebler anchors his characters in that tried-and-true theatrical venue, the neighborhood bar. Here, we spend what seems an eternity meeting each of the determinedly colorful denizens as they gamely launch various story lines and relationships that either go nowhere at all or soon vanish without a trace. Into this confused mix comes Scott, the outsider. A curiously prudish sort to be prowling about Greenwich Village gay bars, Scott is so taciturnly circumspect I hoped for awhile he might be a gay riff on Eastwood's Man-With-No-Name, come here to clean up the joint and dispense some frontier justice. Alas, my hopes were dashed. Hebler's protagonist is merely a husk of a character doomed to swat around pages of trite chatter as he and his bar mates stumble about in circles instead of driving towards any satisfying dramatic climax. The able cast tries valiantly to bring shape and coherence to Hebler's wandering script. Most notably, Marcus Knight's bartender has a fluid, charismatic presence, and Wheaton James gives his panhandler a complexity and shading far beyond the sketchy stock character he is saddled with. Hopefully, with this level of talent at his disposal, playwright Hebler will cut through all this pointless, bitchy posturing and find his real play. |