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Let's give our props to agitprop theatre. Once again Crystal Field (one of the two remaining grande dames of downtown theatre, the other being Judith Malina) and a cast of 33, takes to the streets and parks and churchyards all over the five NYC boroughs, to tell it like it is, and how it might be (if we don't wake up) and how it should be, if we were all doing what we ought, to make it right. This year, Theater for the New City's annual Street Theater is, as always, an excellent introduction to both theatre and politics, for children and any adults unengaged in either.
The plot (book and lyrics by Crystal Field) concerns an everyman (Michael David Gordon) in the form of a postman (after all, who would be in a better position, to touch more lives more directly, should he ever decide to push the envelope, so to speak, and to look beyond just the names and addresses on his route and get to know the actual people) and his awakening to the clear and present dangers surrounding us all. These include environmental, especially the poisoning of our land and water, to the dangerous practice of drilling for natural gas utilizing the process known as fracking and the misguided belief that nuclear energy could ever be considered 'green' (see Fukishima); political, a presidential eunuch blindsided by his own naiveté and his voracious, omnivorous, avariciously cruel opposition; global, blood and treasure draining, never-ending heartless wars; and financial, the hideous corporate Hydra, deadly experts at pulling strings and pulling the plug on all our dreams, as they enrich themselves by impoverishing a beaten-down, exhausted, ignorant, sometimes willfully apathetic populace that has been hoodwinked by complicit politicians, or distracted by the lazy, leering media's concentration on Anthony Weiner's wingwang or Tiger Woods' overworked woody (see Bamboozled's best number "The Floor Show").
The book and lyrics (Crystal Field) are clever and entertainingly informative. The humor ranges from deliciously silly, to stingingly satiric, so as to capture the interest of the wide-ranging ages in the audience. The music (Joseph Vernon Banks) is good enough, but does, at times, lean to the generic -- especially in the finale, which begged for a stirring anthem and was instead more of a treacly ballad; and here the lyrics fell down too, with its terrific message to us all to organize and "take to the streets" creating political strength in numbers, being buried somewhere in the middle of the song.
The folksy naif style of the flats and set pieces by Walter Gurbo, were dead-on perfect for the piece, as were the crazily kicky costumes and special late-of-Hollywood wizard David "Zen" Mansley, brilliant local artist Lytza Colon and TNC stylists Myrna Duarte and Susan Hemley. Especially ingenious was the blinking--buzzing oddly retro/futuro timemachiney thingamajig that the man from our future dystopia wore about his waist, and the wonderful breakaway costume that the Obama stand-in (a dignified Michael Sanders) had torn from his body, as he was stripped to his skivvies by his opponents, as he vainly tried to reason with the unreasonable, in the most conciliatory terms possible – a marvelous mind and sight gag.
Michael David Gordon, as the postman, plays befuddled confusion and enlightened wisdom with equal earnestness, and he has a genuinely beautiful singing voice of crystal clarity. Mark Marcante, as the protean devil lurking behind all our woes, has an impish glint in his eye and a nimble twinkle in his toes, as he chomps the scenery with charming relish. In a red bodysuit and shocking pink punk rock wig, he's a sight to behold. David "Zen" Mansley, as the man from the future, carrying his dire "you better watch out" warnings to the present, is a hoot and a half in his loony costume, sporting an accent that, near as I could tell, was Liverpool by way of New Zealand, with a stopover in Australia, refueling backstage at a zoned-out London rock concert circa 2025. Jonathan Weber, as an uncaring gas man and corporate crony, has a ball using a Peter Lorre impression paired with a manically matter-of-fact delivery to convey that he doesn't give a damn about anything but the bottom line. Alexander Bartenieff, as the ubiquitous voyeur with his ever-present video camera, Tweeting every disaster, moment to moment to the media, yet never moved by any of the horrors before him, every bit an extension of his machine, manages to be very funny indeed, as he reveals the truth of a man, who can push the off button on his humanity, as he keeps his camera rolling. Crystal Field has a charming cameo as Mama Nature herself, chastising us all about our hurtful, wasteful ways.
Bamboozled is great fun and a genuine public service, in that it is free, but more importantly, that no matter how entertaining it is, its message is necessary and important. If we care about each other, our world, our country, our community, our families and our own better selves, then even with the odds stacked to the stratosphere against us, we have no right to give up and give over our future to the forces of greed-riddled evil. If we do, we will have no rights at all and no future, for that matter.
Theater for the New City's free Street Theater is invaluable.
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