Theater reviews: Pursuit of self, value of selflessness

Two powerful new works from small theaters ruminate on catastrophic aspects of ego. "Faust," a company-created collaboration by the Sandbox troupe at Red Eye Theatre, draws from the German legend of a scholar who rejects religious restrictions for pursuit of knowledge. At In the Heart of the Beast Puppet and Mask Theatre, "A Path Home: A Story of Thich Nhat Hanh" renounces various militaries' systematic craving for violence as it chronicles the life of the expatriate Vietnamese Buddhist monk who was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize by Martin Luther King, Jr.

Three actors play Sandbox's title role and appear on stage simultaneously throughout. Director Lisa Moreira's brilliant cast seamlessly weaves between the respective follies enacted by the central trio. Gorgeous stage imagery springs from the actors' configurations, the striking costumes by Kathy Kohl and Mandi Johnson, and Ron Albert's cryptic lighting.

Each of the three -- Wade Vaughn's astrophysicist, Ryan Hill's explorer of sexuality, Heather Stone's apothecary -- offers vistas into vanity. All three vocations may have a place in the cosmos, but the protagonists jeopardize it by succumbing to the ego's constant power craving. Rather than the more traditional view that Faust's knowledge quest was his primary sin, Sandbox regards compulsiveness as his tragic flaw. This fascinating view is enhanced by Tim Donahue's ethereal electronic music, which he performs live throughout the show's 75 minutes along with drum and gong.

A chime brings the audience to attention for "A Path Home," setting the mood for this 70-minute puppet performance. Masanari Kawahara narrates with vocal resonance and deftly manipulates puppets and stick figures he has created. Green wood cut-outs signify hills. Thin, stacked blocks become buildings that topple with the sweep of his forearm signifying a bomb blast. No special effects needed. It's jarring enough.

As directed by Sandy Spieler, Kawahara's profoundly simple text gently captures Hanh's realization that laboring with Vietnam's rural poor is a meditation equally as sacred as formal ritual. Matt Larson's lovely live original string accompaniment conjures a placid ambience that honors Hanh's practice of Engaged Buddhism, which replaces ego with active love and mindfulness. George B. Meyer's understated lighting is nicely supportive.

In one spectral sequence, a match is set to a figure of Buddhist nun Nhat Chi Mai who set herself on fire to protest the Vietnam War. A sonorous voiceover of King's 1967 Beyond Vietnam speech overlaps resoundingly.

John Townsend is a Minneapolis writer.