March 4th Marching Band from Portland, Oregon

I've been to a few Revolutions shows in years past and have seen some really incredible stuff—some of the best and/or most unusual theatre I've ever seen. This year, I caught some of the earlier shows of the Festival so that I could share my thoughts before the Festival ends. I saw Molly, a performance still in development out of Spain by clown comedian David Blanco, and then a couple days later I made sure to see Lauren Weedman's one-woman show Good for You, Albuquerque. I'll admit that these two were not the very best Revolutions shows I've seen, but that doesn't reflect on the remainder of what the Festival has in store this year because the acts are always changing and always different.

David Blanco's Molly follows one man, a lack-luster passionless 9-5er, and his experiences with a suitcase that begins talking to him one day on a street corner and won't leave him alone until he changes his tune on life. The show is still in development and it seems that way. The plot is more an initial idea of a plot rather than a fully realized story with fully realized characters. The physical aspect of the clowning is interesting, but suffers from the lack of a solid, relatable, and sustainable conflict to motivate most of it. It is Blanco's first foray into writing a story in English (as opposed to his native tongue Spanish) which is bold and commendable. On the other hand, Albuquerque is the kind of town where a show in Spanish would be more than at home and I suspect he may have been able to express himself a little more freely in that language.

The premise of comedic actress Lauren Weedman's Good for You, Albuquerque is that she is in search of a place to raise her 4-year-old son (any place but L.A. where she currently lives and rather despises). She spends a few days in a particular town, tooling around, going anywhere and doing anything that piques her interest, and collecting anecdotes and local odd characters. She then combines all this onstage, with a slightly different result each night, as she paints an odd and hilarious outsider's version of your hometown. And she certainly is hilarious in a self-deprecating, manic kind of way. I don't know if the manic thing is always at play in her act or if it is just because of where she currently is in life.

From the beginning of the show, she clues the audience in to the fact that she is in a very different place mentally and emotionally than she normally would be for such a show, because her marriage has very recently fallen apart. So, this search for a new family hometown is an entirely new project than it originally began as, because now it is through the eyes of a recently singled mother and all that that entails. And because of this, perhaps (or maybe she is always this raw and open?), her stories are uncomfortable at times, a little too deeply sad to really laugh at. But this is not a drawback, as you might think. She's open in an extremely vulnerable way that you often don't see from stand-up artists. The only artist whose work I was reminded of during her show was Mike Birbiglia. In his Netflix special My Girlfriend's Boyfriend, Mike begins with all laughs and by the end, his series of stories takes a sentimental turn of self-realization and owning up to his faults and past. In Weedman's new version of her show, I think she is taking this turn without perhaps fully realizing it and the impact it has on the audience (not yet anyhow—perhaps after a few more reiterations of this new version she might find a Rihanna song or something similarly upbeat is a little too jarring at the very end there).

She tells a story about her therapist relating a dream to her that he has just had about her family. The therapist's dream consists of Lauren's husband and son sitting on a bench in a train depot waiting for her to return home on a certain train. The train comes, with Lauren clearly visible in one of the windows, and it doesn't stop at the depot, it continues going. The husband and son are disappointed, but wait again. Another train comes with Lauren in it, but it too just passes by. This continues and continues. She is frustrated by the therapist and his dream, knowing it can only mean one thing: It's her fault! The end of their family unit, the end of the marriage, is because of her choices and her career and her dissatisfaction and her wanderlust. At this point, I noticed that the laughter no longer flowed easily from the audience—we had gone to a new place. "Get off the train, Lauren!" is what I want to stay to say to her at the end, but then I realize there's that distance between performer and audience which, while the performance is happening, feels inconsequential, but once the mask is off, it makes things a bit more difficult.

What's still ahead for Revolutions this year? Tricklock's own The Menu based on Jim Linnell's poetry is back—one of the most beautiful and moving pieces I've ever seen in Albuquerque. Definitely check this out. And the French performance group Macadames has two different events: Roadway Closed to Pedestrians and Without Words. Also, Tricklock's late-night cabaret Reptilian Lounge continues on Saturday night. February 1st is the final day of the Festival, so make sure to make your plans now. For all the info you need, to purchase tickets, and/or answer questions, make sure to use their website tricklock.com.

Photo: Suzy Perler

--Lauren Albonico