Sarah Kane's innovative play will indulge and disturb audiences
Ka Leo Staff Writer
November 01, 2002
The action unfolds as follows: A young woman, played by Mariko Neubauer, plays out loosely connected scenes of intimacy, sex and violence with her lover (Brent Reynolds) and her father (Hank West).
Neubauer occasionally moans or screams, but the spoken lines are nearly all delivered by four inner-voice characters (Chris Garre, Kathy Hunter, Blake Kushi, and Danel Verdugo), who occupy fixed places on stage, but engage in repetitive, neurotic activities.
Over the course of the dialogue and action, the players establish the sense that love has driven them to utter despondency, and in some cases, caused them physical harm. And yet, they cannot break its spell.
In order to enjoy Crave, it is advisable to abandon any hope of following its every nuance. The lines come too fast and thick to ponder the meaning of each one, even if a rationale could be established at all. By sitting back and allowing the play to wash over him or herself, so to speak, the viewer does begin to notice a pattern and significance to the clamor. What emerges is a total-psyche feeling of dark, self-destroying love. This, perhaps, is the intended effect, called, in director Taurie Kinoshita's program notes, "a nonlinear irrational assault."
Crave is best taken with caution. It features full nudity, violence, and sex, both consensual and forced, all in the same scene � and somehow manages to avoid it all seeming gratuitous. If you're looking for something good and disturbing this weekend, or enjoy watching new ways of sculpting a theatrical effect, stay up late and check out Crave.
