home *** CD-ROM | disk | FTP | other *** search
- <text id=94TT0120>
- <title>
- Jan. 31, 1994: The Arts & Media:Theater
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1994
- Jan. 31, 1994 California:State of Shock
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- THE ARTS & MEDIA, Page 106
- Theater
- Ringing The Bell
- </hdr>
- <body>
- <p>Playwright David Ives scores with an evening of sketches
- </p>
- <p>By Richard Corliss
- </p>
- <p> A scantily dressed stage. A few dexterous actors. And, offstage,
- a hotel-desk bell. In David Ives' fertile world, these are the
- only requirements for theater that aerobicizes the brain and
- tickles the heart.
- </p>
- <p> Ives, 43, is the new off-off-Broadway sensation. Critical and
- popular response to All in the Timing, an evening of six Ives
- caprices, has cued a stampede to New York City's tiny Primary
- Stages, from whence they will soon move to roomier quarters.
- But Ives is more than a Manhattan fad. He is a mordant comic
- who has put the play back in playwright.
- </p>
- <p> Sure Thing, the opening playlet, is 40 cunning variations on
- meeting cute. A young man approaches a young woman seated at
- a restaurant table. Every time he or she says something clumsy
- or frosty a bell rings (ding!), the actors freeze and the process
- ratchets back a step. Movie-wise playgoers with a sense of deja
- vu will wonder if this isn't Groundhog Day all over again. Well,
- worry not about Ives' originality or his consistency. Sure Thing
- was first seen in 1988, five years before the Bill Murray comedy.
- Further, all six of the Timing pieces are ingenious retakes
- on the same theme.
- </p>
- <p> Consider. On the day he dies, Leon Trotsky sits at his desk,
- a mountaineer's ax protruding from his head, and muses on mortality
- nine different ways. Philip Glass visits a bakery to buy some
- bread, and the scene is replayed as a chanted Glass opera. In
- a cage, three monkeys grouse at their typewriters, condemned
- to stay there till one of them pounds out Hamlet. A fellow at
- a restaurant can never get what he wants unless he orders something
- else, because he is in a twilight funk called "a Philadelphia."
- In The Universal Language, Ives' warmest, newest sketch, a woman
- with a speech impediment enrolls in a course for a jabberwocky
- tongue that only she and her teacher speak: English is "John
- Cleese," stammering is "tongue Stoppard."
- </p>
- <p> Ives is a wondrous wordmaster and, as spiffily directed by Jason
- McConnell Buzas, these elfin works could be called Stoppard
- Lite. But they are really Beckett Brisk, for they are about
- the creative process, frantic and forlorn, of getting through
- life. They suggest that all human existence is an improvisatory
- rehearsal for some grand opening night that may never arrive.
- Panic is the universal language. And yet, as Ives shows, rewriting
- life can produce a happy ending. Destiny may be, as his Trotsky
- says, "only a capitalist explanation for the status quo," but
- it can also be a sure thing. As two lovers, rapturous in bed
- at the beginning (and of course at the end) of another Ives
- play, Ancient History, dreamily say, If their happiness could
- be bottled, "the world would be littered with empties."
- </p>
- <p> Perhaps Ives will make bigger bottles--longer plays--with
- the same effervescence he compresses into this six-pack. Meantime,
- here is an evening of great pleasure and promise. How delicious,
- in these dour theater days of revivals and stillbirths, to have
- something to look forward to--again (ding!) and again (ding!)
- and again (blackout).
- </p>
-
- </body>
- </article>
- </text>
-
-