Archive for February 23rd, 2007

When I think of the Galapagos art/performance/asymetrical haircut showcase/drinking space, squaredancing does not generally enter into the mental picture. I was, therefore, intensely curious about what I’d find. Upon arriving, I had to squeeze through smoking hipsters outside, then navigate my way through the barely legal art school kids watching the kind of band you would normally expect to see in a place like Galapagos (electro vagina rock?) and finally made it to the back room where the squaredancing is held.

Opening the door, in the center of the room a cultish circle of oddballs holding hands and on stage an extremely mellow looking quartet of pickers greeted me as I entered (literally! everyone said hi). Chugging half my PBR in one go as the bizarre beats from next door pulsed in the background, I thought maybe I’d made a mistake on this one. I could not have been more wrong. Within about 15 minutes I’d become a full-fledged member of the hand-holding cult and can honestly say that I had THE MOST FUN dancing that I’ve had in at least a decade. If my junior high gym teacher is reading, I’m sorry, you were right, those awkward weeks we spent learning to square dance did finally come in handy. Thank you gym teacher.

Easier than hopping on my old ten-speed, I was alamand-lefting and do-si-doing like an old pro within about ten mintues. The incredibly kind, talented, and patient members of the band walked us through each dance in slow motion, then sat back and twanged with glee as we rocketed through each dance at full speed. After only a couple dances, we’d worked up a bit of a sweat and were giggling like best friends at 3am at a 12th grade slumber party (or at least, this is how I imagine it would have been if I’d ever gotten invited to one). I’m not sure why, but tripping over myself, kicking my partner’s shoe into the next room, and totally messing up the grand ol’ right and left just made it that much more fun. Did I look like a jackass? Probably. But, I met some cute girls, heard some good music, drank some cold beer, and for the first time that I can remember, really did dance like I didn’t care who was looking.

I highly recommend this event to anyone that doesn’t take themselves too seriously and has the huevos to make it through the hipster gauntlet when getting in.

Festering with 80s lyrics and clever quips, Your Face Is a Mess makes a hackneyed plot about a tv producer, drug dealer, and soap star enjoyable. Of course, the success of the play hinges on Marc Spitz’s quick dialogue and the fact that the actors are undeniably believable, somehow making derelicts endearing. The hour-long play will be at the Kraine Theater (below the KGB Bar at 85 E. 4th St., NYC) Wednesdays through Saturdays at 8 PM through March 4th. Tickets are $15. FMI: www.horsetrade.info.

Denny (Tom Vaught) is yammering on the phone when the stage lights come on. In a series of eavesdrop-worthy conversations, the tv producer first pitches an idea about a bibliophile so enamored by books that he reaches for one during sex, but then, switching to another call, Denny finds out he has cancer. Perfecting the old adage “misery loves company,” Denny, who was a rageaholic even before he got the bad news, takes his fear of “retiring” out on others. He fires Bette (Camille Habacker), the star of his show, for being too old, and in true soap opera fashion, plans to kill her off with eels, blowfish, and Orcas; he verbally abuses his snooty therapist (Bradford Scobie); and attacks a blogger (yes, even uncool techies find a place in the limelight these days). Rather than getting treatment for the cancer, Denny seeks out his drug dealer to keep him high enough to forget his suffering.

What Denny doesn’t know is that his drug dealer, Moses (Ivan Martin), has recently quit selling and taken a job at the Sunglass Hut. When Moses gets nervous he quotes 80s song lyrics, and lately there’s been a lot of “Eye of the Tiger” dribbling from his lips. Seems Moses has a few demons of his own, and has “got a deal with God, like Kate Bush.” Turning all Holden Caulfield, the drug dealer, who admits to being “emotionally guarded” (his snarky reply to whether he uses protection during intercourse), decides to adopt a dog after hearing a story about Colombian drug smugglers that sew drugs into gold retriever puppies. He figures he’ll lay low, do some good deeds, till he gets the results back from his HIV test.

The wholesomeness of bad guys getting scared straight is admittedly stomach-turning, but Denny and Moses are complex enough to make the story worthwhile. More so, Vaught and Martin have such mesmerizing stage presence that you want to hug Denny and Moses and tell them, it’s alright, they’ll get through their problems. Bette’s role seems as shallow as her character in that the alcoholic has-been is merely a foil to the male leads, but Habacker makes you feel sorry for Bette more than you hate her—kinda in that way you can’t help but worry about Britney Spears’ desperate cries for attention even though you are by no means a fan. Of course the king of caricatures is Bradford Scobie, who so convincingly portrays a flippant clinic doctor, a squirmy principal afraid of the students, Bette’s gay personal assistant, and a host of other minor characters that it takes a moment to register that it’s the same actor playing a myriad of roles.

Your Face Is a Mess is the debut production of Actionman Productions, which was founded last year. It is Spitz’ eighth off-off Broadway play. His other works include The Name of This Play is Talking Heads and Shyness Is Nice. Your Face Is a Mess is directed by Carlo Vogel. Habacker starred in Spitz’s Shyness Is Nice, and hosts The Slipper Room’s burlesque shows. Martin has appeared in such films and tv shows as Neal Cassady, Sleepwalker, Hollywood Ending, The Sopranos, and Law and Order. Scobie has played such comic roles as—get ready for it—“Ukulele Lou, the self-loathing clown; Cousin Rooster, the chicken-fornicating hillbilly; and Louie LaPel, the fake French guy.” Vaught is a voice-over actor.