OnStage: Two stage productions take a walk on the dark side

A wise mentor once counseled that nothing in theater is "safe." Even "The Odd Couple" can go terribly wrong once the lights dim. The potential for disaster rises when the material turns moody or obscure. Two small companies whose work has impressed us these past few years are currently engaged in the challenge of illuminating theater's shadow, while still connecting with the audience. "Strange Love" by Skewed Visions and "Dusa, Fish, Stas & Vi" at Theatre Pro Rata could not be more different, though each presents a glimpse into the dark side.

The results, too, it should be noted, diverge. "Strange Love" is a deliciously weird evening. "Dusa" could hardly be drearier.

Skewed Visions produces once a year, in nearly every case in a site that resonates with the material. For "Strange Love," they have descended upon the Casket Arts building in northeast Minneapolis -- a place Herman Munster might have worked in if Mr. Gateman had ever sacked him.

"Strange Love" is billed as a sequel to "Dr. Strangelove," Stanley Kubrick's 1964 movie satire of the Cold War. It imagines that the ghost of Kubrick's title character has returned to revel in America's obsession with a new, ominous enemy. Audiences are led through a maze into a basement of rough stone walls that has been arranged with a makeshift table to resemble the film's war room.

Actor Charles Campbell, his shaven head and face painted white, mixes in dialogue with film clips and live video interjections from Sean Kelley-Pegg. By the time we depart, Campbell will have jammed himself into a small square metal box, zipped himself into a body bag, filled his mouth with blood and spit it out so that his chin is streaked.

The room is kept mostly dark, with harsh light on Campbell. On occasion, he is lit only by flashlights attached to the wheelchair he uses. At one point, guest artist Laurie van Wieren lip-synched "As Tears Go By" with a wan face.

What does it all mean? Does Van Wieren represent the weak and helpless liberal response to Campbell's oddly macho and ghostly war purveyor? As often happens with Skewed Visions, the show lacks a coherent, intellectual bite. That, however, doesn't seem terribly important, and shouldn't stop you from having a look.

Campbell and Kelley-Pegg are masters of imagery, of projecting a poetic idea without words. The performance rivets our attention with what is essentially a human art installation critiquing the U.S. response to 9/11, and our Cold War.

'Dusa, Fish, Stas & Vi'

Theatre Pro Rata takes on playwright Pam Gems' meditation about four women sharing a London flat, circa 1975. Dusa comes from a divorce and learns early that her ex-husband has absconded with their children. Fish is a social-justice agitator who can't quit the man who has quit her. Stas returns from her hospital job to turn tricks in the evening. Vi's life has stalled in an adolescent self-obsession. Ai yi yi. Can I get some Xanax here?

At one point, Gems' play was considered an essential feminist exploration of the demands society puts upon women, and their varied responses. Making the generous assumption that at one point this limp script had some intellectual vigor, Carin Bratlie's lifeless staging finds no pulse.

If these characters have something to say, I wish they would say it. There is the hint of something greater than the sum of disparate parts -- that each woman is haunted by her biology and/or the prospect of motherhood. I hesitate to say that, though. If Gems dropped any bread crumbs on the trail, they were eaten by birds, and Bratlie is lost in the forest. Without that overarching sense of purpose, we are left to paraphrase Rick Blaine's aphorism in "Casablanca:" that the problems of a few people living in a London apartment don't amount to a hill of beans.

Consequently, Bratlie's cast muddles through a thankless task. These aren't bad actors. They just act bad. With a play like this, it's no wonder.

Graydon Royce • 612-673-7299

Graydon Royce • groyce@startribune.com