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Woody Harrelson Takes a ‘Bullet’ in New Show

Doug Strassler — Tue, 14 Aug 2012 20:22:38 +0000

For the first half hour or so of Bullet for Adolf, the new comedy that just opened at New World Stages, I blamed myself for being unable to follow the zigzag plotline gathering eight madcap characters together. Then I finally realized that the show, co-written by Woody Harrelson with old friend Frankie Hyman, set in 1983 Houston, was really just a mess; an often riotous one, but a sloppy play nonetheless. My tendency to take the blame for others’ flaws is my problem to work on. But Bullet’s dramatic inadequacies are Harrelson’s (who also directed) and Hyman’s shared burden to bear.
I’m inclined to believe that Bullet recreates the drug- and alcohol-fueled haze through which its creators stumbled around in their own early career days in Houston, making Zach (Brandon Coffey ) and Frankie (Tyler Jacob Rollinson) their own bumbling onstage doppelgangers. So while plot and character suffer throughout this (somewhat unnecessary) 140-minute comedy, a general sense of confusion helps buoy the shapeless play in a way that Harrelson likely did not intend. The idea that at any time, a motley crew can gather and erupt in a fight, love fest or even a jam session creates the free-flowing sense of what life might have really felt like in the early 1980s.
This cloud of confusion hovers over construction workers Frankie, Zach, and Dago-Czech (Lee Osorio), who work for Jurgen (Nick Wyman), a Hitler obsessive who owns a gun once used in an assassination attempt on the leader. Frankie and Zach’s roommate Clint (David Coomber), an actor prone to unreliably effeminate posturing, cross paths with several women over the course of the play: Jackie (Shamika Cotton), her militant best friend Shareeta (Marsha Stephanie Blake) and Jurgen’s daughter Batina (Shannon Garland), with whom Zach had a brief romance in the past. Little of what happens over the course of the first act matters; it’s just a preamble to get everyone in the same room for Batina’s 18th birthday party, a loony lineup (with terrific fight choreography from Jeffry Denman) that culminates in the disappearance of Jurgen’s prized gun, an act that occurs seemingly because Harrelson and Hyman need to stop the action at some point.
The case of the missing gun provides a backbone to the rest of the show, but it’s a scoliotic one at best that doesn’t always do its talented cast—particularly Blake, Coomber and Osorio—justice. While they are often given funny lines, these broadly drawn characters ally themselves with little explanation for their motivation. And Harrelson falters elsewhere as both writer and director. Other characters describe how Dago-Czech dropped his street voice act to sound like a prim prepster, which would be comical and a boon to Osorio, but we never see it, we’re merely told about it. Meanwhile, a slapstick scene involving Clint and Zach breaking into Jurgen’s house feels forced and clunky—for those able to see the poorly lit sequence taking place in a corner.
There are also many set changes between the three fairly basic sets that go on for too long, thus allowing for quickly-paced montages (courtesy of Imaginary Media) highlighting pop culture events from 1983—everything from Nancy Reagan’s “Just Say No” campaign to Prince’s “1999” video to Meryl Streep winning her Sophie’s Choice Oscar to a clip from the pilot of (surprise! though it’s three seasons prior to Harrelson’s joining the cast) Cheers gets a quick skewering. These are the kind of clips we can sit back and laugh at, wondering, “What were we thinking then?” But watching Bullet, there are plenty of times to sit back and ponder, “What were they thinking now?”

Bullet for Adolf
Through Sept. 9 at New World Stages, Stage 4, 340 W. 50th St. Call 646-871-1730 or visit www.bulletforadolf.com

David Coomber, left, and Nick Wyman. Photo by Carol Rosegg

Hogwarts Experience Not Needed for Harry Potter Show

Doug Strassler — Tue, 07 Aug 2012 18:30:31 +0000

Audiences at Potted Potter need no formal training the world of J.K. Rowling to enjoy themselves. Having read none of the Harry Potter books and only seen most of the movies one time, I barely know the difference between a snake, a snitch and Slytherin, and I still had a rollicking good time.
Potter has just landed on American soil (at the Little Shubert Theatre) following a successful, Olivier-nominated U.K. run, where it was created by Daniel Clarkson and Jefferson Turner, children’s entertainment performers from CBBC. In keeping with the tradition of The Compleat Works of Wllm Shkspr (Abridged) by the Reduced Shakespeare Company and One Man Star Wars Trilogy, Clarkson and Turner had a mission to condense Rowling’s thousands of pages about The Boy Who Lived, those he knew and those he fought to within 70 minutes of stage time.
On the evening I saw this show, the running time was closer to 90 minutes. While I had fun—who wouldn’t? This is a show designed to entertain those from 5 years old to 90—it’s easy for Potter to go off the rails a bit. Director Richard Hurst hands the reins over to stars Clarkson and Turner, who don’t just offer direct blow-by-blow summaries of each chapter in the saga. Instead, they interrupt themselves with tangents about their own low-budget resources, a video sequence and a live Quidditch game that forces audience participation.
This last segment, while enjoyable—and not too demanding of athletic practice or actual Quidditch training—lasted for a disproportionately long time for such a short show. And yet both actors know how to improvise and handle an audience, particularly one consisting of many young children, although an odd moment late in the show involving a messy piece of chocolate cake drew laughs, though it was unclear whether this gag was planned or accidental.
The very conceit of Potter also falters a bit. Clarkson portrays himself as a performer who needs to be schooled on Harry, while Turner is an expert, but it’s Turner who cannot recall the eventual fate of Dumbledore in the sixth book (a fate I prided myself on having remembered!). This loosey-goosey storytelling style works in the end, however, because both performers are so endearingly affable. And much like the three children who carried this behemoth of a film series, Clarkson and Turner earn our laughs and trust over the course of the show with winning “I’ll do anything” attitudes that make them look enthused but not desperate.
Their work culminates in a hilarious performance revamping Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” that makes light of the very darkness at the heart of the Potter series. And that may be the greatest achievement of Potter: it reminds us that even in serious stories about life and death, laughter is the most important art of all.

Potted Potter
Through Sept. 2, Little Shubert Theatre, 422 W. 42nd St., 212-239-6200, www.pottedpotter.com; $39+.

Daniel Clarkson, left, and Jefferson Turner in "Potted Potter". Photo by Carol Rosegg

Politics and Love Without the Drama

Doug Strassler — Mon, 06 Aug 2012 20:25:19 +0000

Backroom politics can make for truly awesome drama, but Kenneth Lin’s Warrior Class drains the juice out of what could have been a far more enticing show.
Warrior is the second show to play this summer at the Second Stage Uptown venue, designated for up-and-coming works by emerging playwrights. One doesn’t expect perfection from these shows, but it is baffling how a show this lacking in drama has made it so far.
Warrior aims to set up slick triangle between rising New York Assemblyman Julius (Louis Ozawa Changchien), campaign manager Nathan (David Rasche) and Holly (Katharine Powell), Julius’ college girlfriend. But while there may be three sides to the story, none of the angles are as sharp as they could and should have been.
Warrior hinges on an issue between Julius and Holly stemming back to the days following their breakup. It should make us question Julius’ internal makeup, but it never really does. Instead, it just looks like Lin wants to tell us what to think instead of relying on his skill to let sparks fly.
Warrior is but a series of two-handers that never amount to a dramatic idea. We keep watching characters talk about a nearly two decades-old issue that may or may not still carry any weight, but whatever drama there is lies in the past, not onstage. They’re dancing about architecture instead of building something new. Characters discuss a conflict, but one never actually presents itself during the 95 minutes of onstage (in)action.
Additionally, director Evan Cabnet’s scenes—which take place in Andromache Chalfant’s quickly shifting sterile set pieces—are statically paced; a dramaturge should have trimmed these scenes down so they escalate at some sort of clipped pace. Instead, they go on too long and yield far too little. There is too little movement within each scene and too little gained from one to the next.
One can infer that the character that interests Lin the most is Nathan, the one who keeps moving the chess pieces around. It’s the only truly substantial role of the three, and Rasche treats his character as though it came directly out of the Shakespearean canon. Rasche makes Nathan’s Machiavellian machinations somehow excusable—the character is slick and manipulative, yet somehow the most trustworthy and open of the three.
Powell is effective in a less clearly defined role. We see how dredging up a painful memory has punctured old wounds and how she is savvy enough to size up her current situation, but Lin ultimately makes murky how much we faith we should place in her.
Changchien offers far less dimension and therefore insight into his character. In fact, his wooden characterization further deflates what is already a dramatically stillborn piece. One scene calling for Julius to explode remains wholly unconvincing, making one wish Cabnet had either trimmed the scene or directed it differently to arrive at a more believably dramatic outcome. Politics may be hell, but in Warrior, they play as more of a shrug.

Warrior Class
Through Aug. 11, McGinn Cazale Theatre, 2162 Broadway, 4th Fl., 2st.com; $50.

Oh, What a Musical About Late November, 1963

Doug Strassler — Thu, 26 Jul 2012 17:45:59 +0000

Between last season’s Carrie revival and Dogfight, the adaptation of Nancy Savoca’s tender 1991 sleeper hit now playing at the Second Stage Theatre, the characters played by Derek Klena have had no problem asking the girl out, whether it’s to a high school prom or a game centered around a cruel party trick. Folks who have seen either movie or their stage adaptations know that subsequent events don’t always go in either of his character’s favor, but one thing’s for sure: Klena is having a wonderfully fruitful year for an actor still currently enrolled as an undergrad at UCLA.
Set in San Francisco on Nov. 21, 1963 (does the date ring a bell?), at a time when the word Vietnam elicited a “where?” instead of an “Oh no,” Dogfight, originally written by Bob Comfort, takes place right before the whole world turns upside down for its four central characters—three Marines and one woman whom they encounter on their last night before shipping out.
Dogfight has been adapted by librettist Peter Duchan and musicians Benj Pasek and Justin Paul and, under the tight direction of Joe Mantello, is a smart example of a how to make a measured musical of subtle source material without miring it in melodrama.
Klena plays Eddie Birdlace, a rough youth. With his two comrades, Dickie Bernstein (Nick Blaemire) and Ralphie Boland (Josh Segarra)—named “The Three Bees” because their last names got them grouped together during infantry training—they make for a loyal bunch who decide to spend their last night on the titular event, a party in which each guy finds the ugliest date he can. Whichever one is scores the “highest” unknowingly earns him the evening’s winnings.
Eddie brings Rose (Lindsay Mendez, with an uncanny resemblance to Lili Taylor, the actress who originated the role onscreen), a homely, unsuspecting waitress, to the party. The events that occur over the rest of the evening bring out the true colors of each of the Three Bees, and the lessons learned work at both an intimate level and a cultural one, sizing up the social changes about to rock the world.
Klena and Mendez create a wonderful dance of awkwardness, hurt and tentativeness, particularly Mendez, who creates a viscerally affecting character in Rose by never condescending to her as mere victim or virgin. Klena is particularly adroit when telegraphing Eddie’s pain and lacking self-confidence, and both his “Come Back” and the pair’s duet “First Date/Last Night” perfectly encapsulate the way young adults know more than they should, even when they think they haven’t experienced anything at all.
David Zinn’s lazy Susan set and Paul Gallo’s subtle lighting design also impress, as do a pair of other supporting performances: Segarra’s hard-boiled Boland and Annaleigh Ashford’s comedic turn as a wizened fellow participant in the dogfight.
Dogfight suggests that major change can only start with individual revolutions; this show, rife with artistic potential, suggests exactly the same thing.

Dogfight
Through Aug. 19, Second Stage Theater, 305 W. 43rd St., 212-246-4422, www.2st.com.

A Revival Revived, ‘Porgy’ & McDonald Now Have Their Legs

Doug Strassler — Thu, 19 Jul 2012 19:48:15 +0000

“When I’m wrong, I say so.”

That’s a direct quote from Dr. Jake Houseman (the late Jerry Orbach) in Dirty Dancing, a 25-year-old movie musical that would appear to have very little in common with The Gershwins’ Porgy and Bess, the Tony-winning revival now playing at the Richard Rodgers Theater. For starters, Ronald K. Brown’s choreography couldn’t be less different than Kenny Ortega’s in the film. But the first two (two!) times I saw this installation of Porgy, it left me with a very middling response. Having been invited back a third time, however, I’m happy to report that the show is in tip-top shape.

Have I changed? Has the show evolved? I’m willing to believe it’s more the latter than the former. Six months ago, when I first saw Diane Paulus’ new, Broadwayified vision of the landmark work, it felt both long and clunky. The major plot points—attacks, murders, treacherous storms—occurred, but the grace notes connecting them no longer existed. Porgy felt like a paint-by-numbers retread, a check-off list of love and losses meant to introduce each of the fantastic musical numbers retained in the show.

The modernized book by Suzan-Lori Parks and Diedre L. Murray remains the same, but there’s more connective tissue bridging these capital-letter sequences to one another. I credit this to two things. First of all, the actors have all immersed themselves more fully into the show. I didn’t buy award-adorned Audra McDonald as Bess, a wanton woman with a history of drug and alcohol abuse who offered her body as a commodity to lecherous men. She was too proper, too technical, for such a performance to feel organic, especially when compared to the man who symbolized what she wanted to run away from: Crown, a monster played to harrowing perfection—and escaping caricature—by the fantastic Phillip Boykin. Their yin and yang of playing vs. being didn’t jive with me.

Now, however, I no longer felt that disconnect in McDonald’s performance. The incomparable soprano not only hits notes that cause the eye to well up, she performs in a way that causes the heart to hurt as well. I feel her constant search to not give in but to better herself, a promise offered by the crippled Porgy (Norm Lewis, awesome all three times), a far less experienced man on Kittawah Island’s Catfish Row and one utterly devoted to rescuing Bess in any way she might need.

Her journey is arduous; in addition to Crown, David Alan Grier’s Sportin’ Life (another actor who has gotten better in the role) represents yet another rabbit hole she wants to avoid falling into. Porgy isn’t just a love story about two opposite forces coming together, it’s primarily about Bess’ quest to figure out how to better herself, without relying on men to help her or hurt her. She has to save herself.

Second, seating at the Rodgers really matters. My repeat viewings offered me a far better view of the stage, and the actors’ reactions do matter. This is especially true among a brilliant ensemble cast of performers, including Nikki Renee Daniels, Joshua Henry, Bryonha Marie Parham and NaTasha Yvette Williams, who evoke all sorts of emotion in such numbers as “My Man’s Gone Now” and “Oh Doctor Jesus.” Suddenly, a show that felt lumped together appeared strung together in a far seamless manner. I’m not sure that that holds true for those with rear balcony seats.

Porgy is, as it turns out, a rich pageant, but this is only true when the parts can be seen as well as heard.

The Gershwins’ Porgy and Bess
Richard Rodgers Theater, 226 W. 46th St., www.ticketmaster.com

In a Word, ‘Bad and the Better’ Is Good

Doug Strassler — Fri, 13 Jul 2012 15:57:56 +0000

The Bad and the Better isn’t a musical, but it shows off the kind of excesses one rarely finds in a straight drama. A big cast, a heavily detailed set (this on the same stage, the Peter Jay Sharp Theatre, whose previous tenant, The Big Meal, consisted of just a few tables and chairs), and a near-operatic storyline involving heightened characters traveling. Bad, as written by Derek Ahonen, transports the company he co-founded, the Amoralists, from its downtown roots, but he hasn’t lost his touch for carefully stylized mayhem. Bad my not be perfect, but it’s a complex symphony that should be marveled at.

Directed with great flair by Daniel Aukin, Bad is a comic noir with several threads sharing central stage space. In one, sad playwright Venus (David Nash) – his big hit was a manifesto about anarchists entitled “The Sad Singers on Stanton Street,” a likely reference to Ahonen’s own “The Pied Pipers of the Lower East Side” – who gets caught up with a real life gang of rebels when he falls in love with Faye (Anna Stromberg). Her gang members include Charity (Selene Beretta) and Justice (James Kautz), gay hacker Scotty (Nick Lawson) and his partner Edmond (Chris Wharton), and an untamable firebrand named Inez (a hilarious Regina Blandon), paired with Nino (Byron Anthony).

At the same time, detective Ricky (William Apps) must contend with a puzzling series of murder-suicides plaguing the Long island area as well as an overly flirtatious secretary, Miss Hollis (Sarah Lemp). In an ensemble that numbers more than two dozen, including original and newly adopted members of the Amoralist family, other threads emerge that are too numerous to introduce here, dealing with such contemporary concerns as corruption, the environment, and Occupy uprisings. Besides, that would cut down on the surprise factor. But suffice it to say that the multiple plots of Bad collide in ways that are both dramatically rewarding and logical, even if only in hindsight.

At times, Ahonen gets a little too cocky for his own good, using Venus as a surrogate for himself and proffering winking lines like “No one wants to see death onstage anymore. Unless of course it’s like some coming-of-age tale in which siblings deal with the death of a parent to pancreatic cancer.” Bad works best in its loopier, archer first act than it does in its climactic second act, a series of reveals and revenges. But his camp, both onstage and off, overcomes any such minor quibbles. Phil Carluzzo’s sound work, Natalie Robin’s lighting and Alfred Schatz’s thorough set design all plunge the audience firmly into Ahonen’s crazy territory. And Aukin’s cast (in true ensemble form, they all get generous amounts of stage time), particularly Apps, Nash, Lemp and Stromberg, commits entirely to Bad’s changing tonal challenges.

Make no doubt about it. With Ahonen holding the baton, this orchestra hits all the right notes.

The Bad and the Better
Peter Jay Sharp Theater, 416 West 42nd Street, Clinton; (212) 279-4200, ticketcentral.com

Deconstructing ‘Three’s Company’ for the 21st Century

Doug Strassler — Tue, 03 Jul 2012 16:43:09 +0000

The three roommates in David Adjmi’s 3C, currently running at the West Village’s Rattlestick Theatre—Connie (Anna Chlumsky), the blonde bimbo; Linda (Hanna Cabell), the put-upon, responsible one; and Brad (Jake Silberman), the aimless Vietnam Vet—play the age-old party game “Faces” several times throughout the show. Yet a more appropriate title for this experimentally subversive noncomedic homage to Three’s Company would be “Masks”; everyone in this play has a secret, and not the kind that would win them a prize from Garry Moore.
No one in the audience could be faulted for assuming that 3C was nothing more than a comedy, thanks to set designer John McDermott’s lovably detail-oriented recreation of the Company set. But this isn’t a mere theatrical version of a kitschy sitcom; leave that to the Fringe Festival. Adjmi uses the show to hold up a mirror to a time gone by and show just how much—and how little—attitudes have changed.
So, for instance, when Connie and Linda take in new roommate Brad, the central conceit—that they must pretend he is gay in order for their living arrangement to appear kosher in the eyes of their landlord—isn’t even mentioned onstage. But before long it’s clear that Brad, in addition to suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, is gay, and harbors a painful crush on best friend Terry (Eddie Cahill, moving better in a leisure suit that anyone has a right to).
Meanwhile, both he and Linda face gross mistreatment from their landlord, Mr. Wicker (an unsettlingly good Bill Buell), even as his wife (Kate Buddeke) grapples with her own problems with mental illness and the shame associated with her prescription tranquilizers. Connie, too, suggests a history of victimization underneath her sunny outlook (at times, Chlumsky’s delivery could be a bit broader to rightfully land Adjmi’s dialogue.)
Adjmi’s style is defiantly revisionist, but also decidedly behind the curve. This two-note premise loses steam by the 45-minute mark, and its callbacks to Company’s sitcom style—Silbermann’s excellently executed pratfalls, misunderstood conversations and double entendres—confuse the tone.
3C also gives too much currency to a show that stopped being relevant long before TBS stopped airing its reruns at five minutes past the hour. If he wanted to play with modern attitudes toward coupling and sexual identity, why not take another look at Ellen? Or Friends? Or Will & Grace? There’s already plenty of distance to chart between now and then.
Director Jackson Gay, however, plows through this material, which is most evocative when dialogue-free, as seen in Linda’s character-revealing solo dance scenes in the apartment (choreographed by Deney Terrio, the man responsible for teaching John Travolta his dance moves in Saturday Night Fever). Cabell is actually a revelation through-and-through, summoning all sorts of survivalist pain for the misunderstood Linda. Silbermann, too, delivers a knockout turn as he navigates Brad’s constant confusion. Other times, it feels a bit too belabored. Adjmi’s attempt to flip the switch on his subject matter only goes so far. Eventually, audience members get the urge to turn the dial.

3C
Through July 14, Rattlestick Playwrights Theater, 224 Waverly Pl., 212-279-4200, rattlestick.org.

Anna Chlumsky, Hanna Cabell, Kate Buddeke and Jake Silbermann in "3C". Photo by Joan Marcus

A Cirque Show Even Non-Fans May Like

Doug Strassler — Thu, 28 Jun 2012 17:27:45 +0000

Cirque du Soleil, the entertainment behemoth created by Guy Laliberté, is a binary creature—you either like its fusion of ballet and death-defying acrobatics or you don’t. Zarkana, which has returned for a second, slightly trimmed-down stint at Radio City Music Hall, pushes the show’s dark edges even further. But Cirque haters beware: You’d be missing out to avoid it. Zarkana, written and directed by François Girard, achieves an effect that borders on rapture.
Though story is only a peripheral requirement for this kind of spectacle, there is one here: Zark is a magician (played by Christian Goguen on the night I saw the show) navigating a haunted old theater where he has been trapped for years, longing to reunite with the love of his life. Along the way, he encounters ballerinas, mad scientists, French soldiers and even escaped prisoners.
Stéphane Roy has created a mammoth set in which even the pieces come to life: one arch morphs into a series of writhing snakes; another is a plant-like being with long, snaking arms; a third arch utilizes a pulley system. Along the way, Zark meets curiously exotic females (all portrayed by Meetu Chilana) displaying a distinctly non-human amount of derring-do. Those looking for a linear path from one sketch to the next will be at a loss. There’s no order of events, nor can one always decipher what the show’s characters are singing about—none of which really matters.
The crux of Zarkana, however, is the stunt work that Girard has created, and there are some real doozies here. For example, the Wheel of Death finds Junior Delgado and Carlos Martin moving upright on two rapidly spinning spheres. Anatoly Zalevskiy similarly fights gravity by balancing himself on his hands. And Carole Demers, supported by Johnny Gasser and Yuri Kreer, displays stunning feats on the Russian Bar. Meanwhile, feet firmly planted at all times, Erika Chen dazzles with her clever sand painting.
Girard moves these vignettes along at a quick clip; no scene lasts too long. And Chilana and Goguen make for a dynamic duo—Chilana’s gorgeous voice haunts the cavernous Radio City space. Nor can one cannot understate Girard’s visual grandeur. His use of LED screens and ability to fill the venue’s enormous volume create some hypnotic visuals, including such menaces as snakes and spiders. Dark as it is, Girard works hard to make sure that the show remains family-friendly before verging on being frightening.
Those intending to see Zarkana—as all should—would do well to stay hungry. This production is a feast for the senses.

Zarkana
Through Sept. 2, Radio City Music Hall, 1260 6th Ave., www.cirquedusoleil.com/en/shows/zarkana/default.aspx

Cirque du Soleil’s Zarkana is at Radio City through the summer. Photo by Jeremy Daniel

A Play That Changes with the Roll of the “DIE”

Doug Strassler — Mon, 07 May 2012 19:45:50 +0000

New York night owls know to head downtown to throw caution to the wind and see where the night takes them. Well now a small ongoing show has given them yet another chance to expect the unexpected.

Joe Kurtz, the writer and a star of DIE: Roll to Proceed, playing Friday nights at The Red Room, presents a situation that could end up in myriad different ways. Seventy-two, if you want to be precise. George (Joe Kurtz) and Rob (Justin Anselmi) are roommates undergoing a particularly stressful day that includes an ultimatum thrown by George’s girlfriend Kate (Amanda Kay Schill). Finally, George reaches his breaking point, declaring that “I want God to decide everything for me.”

Well, David Williams (as acting emcee) then deifies his audience, allowing them to predict George and Rob’s future by rolling a die at three distinct points over the course of this 75-minute show, presented by Ashley C. Williams (perhaps better known as “the Human Centipede”) and Mind the Art Entertainment. A volunteer steps up (well, given the Red Room set-up, down) to roll a big foam die. Each of the six numbers portends a different outcome for DIE’s plot to continue along, answering such questions as whether George should propose to Kate and how they should address their delinquent rent. Christian De Gre’s smooth direction keeps the pace from sagging after each crossroads.

This is lowbrow stuff (one option includes male prostitution), to be sure, but the actors work harder than the material might lead you to believe. Anselmi and Kurtz seem game for absolutely anything, and very adroitly go with the flow of the die. The two of them work well off of each other, and seem to be having a lot of fun. Schill didn’t have quite as much to do, at least given the way the die spun on the night that I saw her, but she mimicked outrage offense with ease. Jonathan Siregar channels his inner Divine in a cross-dressing role as the hedonistic landlady Grizz. The droll Williams also earns a lot of laughs – yes, earns – with his antisocial banter among the audience and volunteers.

In truth, it probably takes multiple visits to the Red Room to see what DIE is really capable of, and to see which, if any, situations repeat and how the other scenarios might challenge the cast or offer them new opportunities to show off their skills. (And for those really hungry to find out all possible paths for the show to take, a book listing all of these scenarios is for sale at the theater.) Is the show high art? Nah. Does it make for diverting night out pre- or post-drinks? You’ll have to roll the die yourself to find out.

DIE: Roll to Proceed

Red Room, 85 E. 4^th St. http://www.dierolltoproceed.com/. $15