FEMME FATALE
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
He follows her in his cab, but she won’t go for a ride with him. He gets her in the cab and tries to get her to spill the beans, but she won’t tell him what he wants to hear. She escapes. He tracks her down. They return to the scene of the crime. There’s a gun, a razor blade, and a wardrobe of slinky lingerie. Who’s deceiving whom? Who can be trusted? What does it all add up to? And ultimately, who really cares?
It should come as no surprise to anyone who sees Femme Fatale that its author, Michael Wolk, has recently written a Hollywood screenplay described in the program as “a Mafia-Vampire love story.” Femme Fatale reads like an easy Hollywood sell–all plot twists, easily identifiable characters, sex, rape, murder, and deception. The two-character script is a pastiche of Hollywood stereotypes, somewhere between a B-movie thriller and a Stan Ridgway song. Despite the first-rate acting, set dressing, and professional direction the Mary-Arrchie Theatre has provided the play, nothing can save it from itself.
