BUDDAH HAUS
This is a candor as refreshing as it is rare. Instead of wasting time defending the supposed flawlessness of his work (as many young playwrights do, ad nauseam), Anderson apparently devotes his energies to developing his craft. His third play, Buddah Haus, isn’t perfect either, by any means, but if Anderson continues to progress at the rate he has from one play to the next, it won’t be long now.
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The plot of Buddah Haus is simple enough: a 19-year-old architecture student named Warren Peece is attempting to build a house by sheer mental powers. He has already conjured a roof, which floats unsupported over his head, and on this warm Christmas Eve is concentrating–literally–on putting up the walls. His parents, Art and Bernice, are establishment architects with a vested interest in keeping the cost of housing high and exclusive. They attempt to dissuade him from his philanthropic mission, even to the extent of hiring Lucite, the top deprogrammer in the country, to unscramble the lad’s brains. When even this fails–“You don’t need a deprogrammer!” shouts Lucite in exasperation, “you need an exorcist!”–they employ the last weapon they have, with devastating results.
All of these factors together barely make up for the discomfort of the cold and squalid upstairs room at Dreamerz. Take this show, somebody, and mount it in a classier space. Buildings made of dreams are not a reality yet, and Buddah Haus deserves better than this.
