BURNIN’ WITH THE 8 BALL Main Line Productions at the Chicago Actors Project
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Mercury has more pressing matters on his hands. His demon muse, Ultra, is undertaking a coup. She thinks it’s time for a change. Ultra wants to take over more of Mercury’s life, she wants him to be her mate. Mercury, locked in an alternate dimension, is both captivated and repelled by her, and they dance a dangerous duet, arguing all the while about art, the 80s, and mythology, as well as other, sometimes incomprehensible things. Finally, Mercury gets fed up with Ultra’s constant nagging and raving and tries to do away with her. But she is, of course, a part of himself. Abolishing her, Mercury puts himself in an emotional tight spot from which there is little chance of escape.
The plot, however, is probably the least important aspect of Larocca’s play. More significant are both the visual imagery and the ideas that Mercury, Ultra, and Beadle bandy about.
The play is exciting in both form and language. Larocca’s style is strongly lyrical, full of stunning images. But he doesn’t know when to stop. Burnin’ With the 8 Ball is about twice as long as it should be, and Larocca gets so caught up in the words that he forgets to keep the action going. Phrases are repeated over and over; monologues lasting four or five minutes have about one minute of content. Larocca is further hampered by his codirector, John Harriman. Visual images and vocal stylization overwhelm the words, when the words are the meat and potatoes of Burnin’ With the 8 Ball. The scenes are also unfocused. So much happens that nothing happens. It is unclear what is supposed to be important. The result is that Mercury doesn’t make much of an inner journey, he just goes around in circles.
