Theater review: '3 Parts Dead': A dark, personal ghost story

It's nice to be reminded of theater's power to distort and deconstruct reality. Not everything needs plot, two acts, a crisis and a resolution. This fall, Skewed Visions produced a fine little oddity in "Strange Love" that appealed to the psyche's eerie touchstones. Now we have another exhibit -- this one more intended as a personal ghost story than Skewed Vision's political satire.

"3 Parts Dead," a new work by playwright Alan Berks, in collaboration with the Burning House Group, opened last weekend at the Minneapolis Theatre Garage. It is a challenging, obtuse experience that uses several theatrical conceits to form a vocabulary built on imagery. Berks captures the dream abstraction of a metaphysical world and centers it in real-world characters.

Actors Matt Guidry, David Allen Baker and Randal Berger move through a darkened stage decked with cardboard boxes, boards, a stepladder, hanging windows and a large chest. We get a sense of discovering an abandoned house, which we soon learn is what Guidry's character is doing. A recovering addict, he's moved into a ramshackle manse that caught his (unseen) daughter's eye. Baker plays Guidry's brother, who initially spends his stage time narrating from letters he's received from his sibling, talking about the house and reliving old times.

Berger is the wild card. A pulsing and enigmatic avatar, he alternately represents a ghost, a real estate agent and the manifestation of the addict's demon. Twitching, snorting and limping in a vivid physicality, he appears to enter the shadows of Guidry's soul with his vexing presence -- you know, monkey on the back sort of thing. At least that's my take. The beauty of this character is that he embodies the dark and frightening impulses that seem universal but are distinct to each of us.

Baker has the look of a boiled potato, compared with Guidry's square jaw and wild eyes. That distinction becomes important as we come to understand their symbiotic relationship.

Baker is the middle-class, reasonably successful family man fascinated (repelled?) by his swashbuckling, devil-may-care brother. Eventually, that duality contributes to a dire conclusion.

Noah Bremer, who has accomplished this kind of strange and interesting work with Live Action Set, comes over to direct the three actors. He and his cast construct a gritty, rigorous physicality. Guidry "and the company" are credited for a lighting design that becomes another character -- so well-articulated that it creates illusion.

There's a bit of self-indulgence along the way, but isn't that often an issue in today's theater? This is a dark little tale worth an 80-minute investment.

Graydon Royce • 612-673-7299

Graydon Royce • groyce@startribune.com