I like my theater like I like my helical chains of deoxyribonucleic acid...TWISTED!
No? Too much? DNA? Double helix? Well, whatever, I thought it was funnier than "pretzels."
My general point is: If it's Albee, I'll take it. Give me something dark, something taboo, something...baaaaaaaad.
Remy Bumppo's production of The Goat or, Who is Sylvia? certainly satiated my off-kilter craving.
Martin is a wildly successful architect. He's got a great house, plenty of money and a wonderful family. He is also in love with a goat. They've gone all the way. When his wife Stevie finds out, she gets pretty angry. Their gay son, Billy, is a little upset too.
The most shocking thing isn't
necessarily the reveal of the seductive beast (after all, it's in the
title), but rather the completely unapologetic nature of Martin's
explanation to his utterly broken wife. He can understand her anger at
his adultery, but not her disgust at the object of his affection. He
simply doesn't get why the goat is the issue.
Annabel Armour is, without a doubt,
the best thing about this sharp production. Her struggle to maintain
Stevie's middle-class rationality in the face of her primal, guttural
rage is spine-tingling. She masters Albee's complex rhythm through each eruption and makes us laugh right before she makes us cry. Her performance will linger with you long after you leave.
Edward Albee's The Goat or, Who is Sylvia? is playing at the Greenhouse Theater, 2257 N. Lincoln Ave.