The program for Rude Guerrilla's short-play collection "The Seven Deadly Sins" states that the first piece, about greed, will
be "presented by Lady Charis and her most particular Troupe de Comique Tragédienes Antiquité Gothique."

Say what?

If that sounds self-consciously arty, well, it is. Two actresses in ghostly masks enact the birth of the seven sins while the troupe
proprietress, in white mime paint, narrates. The faux-classical text is moaned and howled while demon babies -- puppets with dolls' facesand skeleton bodies -- are given life, then cut down.

And this turns out to be the best play of the bunch.

Some way or other, Rude Guerrilla is always trying to push the envelope and push buttons. Here, in plays written at the theater's invitation, the title sins are exemplified in the gent sheepishly waiting to shove bills into a go-go boy's shorts, the interrogator who snarls at the prisoner he's waterboarding, the doughy guy whose hand is grotesquely busy inside his boxers and so on. The actors lookill-at-ease -- and who could blame them?

The tales leapfrog crazily through time periods and performance styles. Four-letter words abound; aha moments are rare. There's not much to learn here beyond the slap-to-the-forehead obvious moral that you reap what you sow.

Well, perhaps one other lesson can be gleaned: Always glance througha program, looking for warning signs, before a performance begins,while there's still time to flee.

--

D.H.M.

"The Seven Deadly Sins," Rude Guerrilla Theater, 202 N. Broadway,
Santa Ana. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2:30 p.m. Sundays. Ends Aug.
30. $20. (714) 547-4688. Running time: 1 hour, 25 minutes.

Thursday, July 31, 2008 - 3:02 pm
Not-So-Deadly Sins
Rude Guerrilla's morality tales aren't dirty enough

Though not coined by the Catholic Church until sometime around 600 A.D., the Seven Deadly Sins have been regulating theater's pulse for centuries. That's because drama has always been about character and conflict. And nothing sows discord like people driven to extremes by greed, pride, envy, lust and wrath (yeah, yeah, gluttony and sloth are also on the list, but victimless crimes, no matter how sloppy or decadent, hardly make for exciting dramatic fodder).

So although the Seven Deadlies are immoral sign posts lining the route to hell, rare is the play, politician or interesting person not consumed by one, or several, of these all-too-human foibles. Rude Guerrilla's mounting of a mostly original collection of seven short plays, The Seven Deadly Sins is obviously a salute to these examples of self-destruction. And it makes sense: no theater in this county is as well-situated to stage plays devoted to rage, avarice, self-indulgence and sex as the fiercely adventurous Santa Ana troupe. The safe bet is that a group of plays about vice, in the hands of a company that's never shied away from profane and titillating territory, would be as potentially explosive as a caravan of Hummers filled with crossbow-wielding crack whores: something wicked has got to happen.

Yet The Seven Deadly Sins is disappointingly timid and bloodless, if not downright boring. Structure is one problem. None of the seven pieces exceeds 15 minutes, preventing most from either establishing a rhythm or feeling properly fleshed-out.

But its content—or lack thereof—is where the real trouble lies. Given any other title but The Seven Deadly Sins, you'd be hard-pressed to explain why these plays are even on the same bill. There's no through-line, no unifying theme. Worse, the plays themselves, though ostensibly about the most immoral of human actions, come off terribly nonlethal and non-sinful. Instead of raw emotion, base impulses and heightened stakes, we get obviousness, trite Sunday-school lessons,questionable arguments and a rather wimpy collection of vices.

The obviousness is supplied by Steven Parker Jr.'s homage to pride,Airus Equinus, which—surprise!—suggests pride always goes before the fall. The easy moralizing is found in Dave Barton's wrath-influenced What Is the Word. Though interestingly written, Barton's point doesn't seem any more incisive than how one culture's water-boarding is another's beheading, and though practitioners of each call them different names, they both really fucking suck.

At least those plays get their vices right. Robert M. Tully's Sloth, though quite funny, actually works against the argument that laziness is a sin. Come on—doesn't an eternity of beating off to porn, munching on Cheetos and downing Coca-Cola seem like quite an alluring afterlife? Even one of the more novel pieces, David Johnston's Yes,Yes, Yes, in which a middle-aged man and a youthful male stripper get all worked up over James Joyce's Ulysses, conveys as much lusty swagger as a pap smear.

The two most compelling pieces are R.J. Romero's spookily primordial piece (there are 23 words in the title; that's ridiculous) and Ken Urban's remarkably succinct mythical deconstruction, Tecmessa. Though the most artfully crafted and well-staged pieces of the night, even they treat their sins as mere after thoughts. None of the pieces is interested in exploring or explaining its respective vice, let alone rolling around in the dirt with them. That reluctance winds upstripping the sins of both their cautionary and seductive properties. The sins aren't sins, at least not the kind worth courting damnation for. And that means there are no sinners. And a play without sinners has no hope of redemption.

Then again, maybe that's the point of the whole show: The sevendeadly sins aren't so deadly—or so sinful—after all. As a commentary on an outdated morality designed to exert a struggling religion's hold on its populace through fear and guilt, that sentiment's groovy enough. But gripping, compelling theater it ain't.

The Seven Deadly Sins at the Rude Guerrilla Theater, 200 N. Broadway,
Santa Ana, (714) 547-4688; www.rudeguerrilla.org. Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.;
Sun., 2:30 p.m. Through Aug. 30. $15-$20.

Has the theme of "the seven deadly sins" been overused in television, the movies and live theater? Yes. Could a fresh, innovative take on the subject reinvigorate it? Again, yes – definitely so.

Is Rude Guerrilla Theatre Company's new show "The Seven Deadly Sins" that new, socko take? That's a resounding "no."

With only a couple of notable exceptions, this set of seven one-acts, all written and directed by company members, gives us a fresh look at Greed, Envy, Pride, Sloth, Lust, Wrath and Gluttony. Whether that look is innovative or powerful is the question.

Ironically, the very factor that makes this project so laudable – that each of the seven playlets has its own playwright and director – is what causes it to misfire. One or perhaps a pair of directors might have been able to give the evening shape, form and dramatic momentum.

As such, things skip in herky-jerky fashion from puzzling (Greed and Envy) to obvious (Pride) to enjoyable (Sloth) to ho-hum (Lust) to brilliant (Wrath) to intriguing (Gluttony).

Robert M. Tully's deftly-written "Sloth" may at first seem obvious, but in the space of 10 minutes, Tully creates a clear dramatic arc, all with just one character.

Joe (Frank Javier Aranda) spends his life in T-shirt and boxers, eating junk food, guzzling soda and channel-surfing for porn on cable. A coronary sends him to an afterlife which he himself created by living a life of sloth, he is told by Emeril (Alex Dorman in voice over), whom he watches on television.

As directed by Brenda Kenworthy, Aranda moves from complacency to confusion and anger as he discovers that heaven and hell are man-made creations, and whatever we sow in life, so shall we reap after death.

Even more powerful, and ambitious, is Dave Barton's take on "Wrath." Titled "What is the Word (With Apologies to Samuel Beckett)," it manages to be both a take on that sin and a political statement against any American doctrine that approves torture.

A presumably Muslim prisoner (Adam Ferry) is waterboarded by an American soldier while, somewhere in the Middle East, an American soldier (Michael Keeney) is beaten within an inch of his life by a terrorist.

Ironically – and, brilliantly – semantics are what is at stake, for every time the first prisoner calls what is happening to him "torture," he's made to feel like he's drowning, while each time the second prisoner refers to his suffering as "a picture of murder," he receives another physical blow with fist or scythe.

Back home, a politician (Carolyn Kelly) browbeats the American public with the mantra "We are not safe" as an Audience Member (Courtney Chudleigh) begs forgiveness – presumably, of those being tortured. Samantha Wellen's direction is a bit spotty, but that's easy to overlook when considering what this playlet has to say.

In "Aerius Equinnus," directed by Phillip Forrest and Sharyn Case, Steven E. Parker, Jr., takes a stab at "Pride," as an arrogant, narcissistic movie actor (John Byrd) receives retribution for his hubris by figures from the netherworld – satisfying, yet not terribly original.

While Erika Tai's "Excessories" can be faulted for its excessive length, she at least correctly defines "gluttony" as the voracious consumption of everything in sight as a contemporary young American woman (Sabrina Zellars) gobbles up all the food, alcohol, hard drugs and sex she can survey.

This playlet, directed by Alexander Price and Peter Balgoyen, is similar to "Yes, Yes, Yes," David Johnston's West Coast premiere on the subject of "Lust," in which a middle-aged man (Richard Dambert) reads "Finnegan's Wake" while watching a young male go-go boy (David Lee).

As the boy coyly strips, the two get into a debate and analysis of that Joyce work versus Joyce's "Ulysses." Had Johnston's writing more bite and co-directors Price and Balgoyen not allowed their staging to drag, this could have been a winner.

Ken Urban's West Coast premiere of "Tecmessa (a footnote on envy)" wastes a powerhouse performance by Nakisa Aschtiani as Tecmessa, concubine of the great Trojan warrior Ajax.

Director Kristin Elliott allows the tone to shift, jarringly, from arch to earnest, with the arch first half coming off like a college acting class exercise. Tecmessa's monologue works; the rest doesn't.

The opening segment, R.J. Romero's world premiere meditation on "Greed," tries to portray that sin as the marriage of Avarice (Adrienne Jade Paul) and Prodiga (Crystal Renee Woolard) while also trying to show how the pair gave birth to "the Seven Deadly Sins."

That it fails to do both is a shame, for had this piece and some of the others been reworked, this evening might not have committed the cardinal sin of building up our expectations, then not meeting them.

July 30, 2008
By Eric Marchese

Although an admirable project, most of these seven one-acts — expositions on the seven deadly sins, written and directed by Rude Guerrilla company members — miss the mark. Because no one director is at the helm, dramatic momentum is basically nil. Hurting most, though, is that only a couple of the scripts deliver clarity of thought and purpose, while a couple more qualify as narrow misses. Robert M. Tully's Sloth, directed by Brenda Kenworthy, and Dave Barton's What Is the Word (With Apologies to Samuel Beckett), directed by Samantha Wellen, are first-rate. In the first, slothful Joe (Frank Javier Aranda) spends his life eating and drinking junk food while masturbating to porn on cable. A heart attack sends him to an afterlife identical to his life — "An afterlife of your own creation," explains Emeril (Alex Dorman in voiceover) from the TV set. Barton's even more ambitious play conveys the sin of wrath in the form of a statement, portraying the Bush doctrine on torture as obscenely inhumane and of no substantive difference from that of Muslims who torture. Barton depicts a prisoner (Adam Ferry) being tortured by an American soldier (Dillon Hulse) for calling what is happening to him "torture."

Steven E. Parker Jr.'s take on pride is clever but obvious, while Erika Tai correctly defines gluttony not as overeating but as voracious consumption of all a person (Sabrina Zellars) can lay her hands upon. Ken Urban's Tecmessa (A Footnote on Envy) doesn't get going until it focuses in on Ajax's concubine, Tecmessa (a brilliant Nakisa Aschtiani). Sketchier still are David Johnston's meditation on lust and R.J. Romero's opener. The latter tries to depict greed while acting as an introduction to all seven sins, failing at both.

Aranda and Aschtiani aside, none of the performances are very good, because all the scripts except Tully's treat character development as a mere function of whatever sin is being depicted.

Presented by and at the Rude Guerrilla Theater Company, 202 N. Broadway, Santa Ana. Fri.-Sat. 8 p.m.. (Also Sun. 2:30 p.m. Aug. 10-24 and Thu. 8 p.m. Aug. 28.) Jul. 25-Aug. 30. (714) 547-4688. www.rudeguerrilla.org.

‘7 Deadly Sins’ is aggressively thoughtful

By Larry Blake

Seal Beach Leisure World Golden Rain News, 08/07/08

The Rude Guerrilla Theat[er] Company (RGTC) prides itself on producing provocative, aggressively thoughtful plays—both classical and contemporary—since 1997.” So writes RGTC in its program, and indeed they do deliver what they advertise. Currently they are presenting seven one-act plays under the title “The 7 Deadly Sins.” Each play corresponds with one of the seven deadly sins: greed, pride, envy, lust, sloth, wrath and gluttony. Although it is not an entirely satisfying evening, three of the seven plays are more than enough for a provocative and thoughtful evening.

“Sloth,” by Robert M. Tully, tells the story of couch potato Joe (Frank Javier Aranda). Joe watches sports, Emeril, and soft porn on television, while he drinks and eats cheese doodles. We watch and listen and then something goes wrong—Joe has a stroke. But he recovers. Or does he? God, through the voice of Emeril, tells Joe that he has wasted his life. It seems that what you do in this life you are condemned to do in the next life. Since Joe has mostly stayed in his room watching television, his after life is the same, except that he cannot leave the room. Is it hell or heaven? The playwright lets you make up your own mind.

“Yes, Yes, Yes,” by David Johnston, is about an older man who attends strip clubs. As he is about to leave one, he drops the copy of James Joyce’s “Finnegan’s Wake” that eh caries on the subway to read. The go-go dancer (David Lee) notices and chastises the older man, and they engage in a conversation about James Joyce. “Finnegan’s Wake” is arguably Joyce’s most difficult work as it is in mostly abstract language and stream of consciousness. The argument becomes comical in this almost surreal setting. The sin of lust is the focus of this one-act.

The sin of pride is the subject of “Aerius Equinus,” by Steven E. Parker, Jr. We meet a celebrity, listed as “man” (John Byrd). This man is successful at everything. And yet, he’s not satisfied. And so we are at the day when he has to pay the piper when he is visited by two demons (Michael Keeney and Richard Damber). Byrd’s performance is chilling in its sophistry.

The rest of the evening is not quite up to the level of the above three. However, it is exciting theater and is presented with the same skill that one always sees at RGTC. This is not theater for everyone, as I’m sure RGTC would agree. But if you are open to provocative theater that asks you to think, then “7 Deadly Sins” is worth your time.