AT THE DROP OF A HAT . . .
April 24-26 and May 1-3
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Both pieces begin with stark, startling images. For At the Drop of a Hat . . ., the audience enters the dark performance space to see projected images of grass and two truncated, seemingly running legs on a screen. Nearly centered on the stage is Orlin, statuelike and about eight or nine feet tall in a long, skin-tight green dress. Beads of water drop in torturously slow fashion, seen only as they pass through a beam of cold blue light, onto Orlin’s head, face, and shoulders. The effect is eerie, sculptural, and surreal. Wilson, who begins Please, Consider Me a Dream immediately after intermission, at first seems one of the stage crew: he unloads from a dolly loaf after loaf of bread painted a ghostly white. It isn’t until the lights drop that the audience realizes that this ongoing task is the beginning of the performance.
After Orlin sheds the dress, we see that she’s standing on top of a birdbath that has a stone cherub folded around the base, its back turned to the audience. Then a bright red apple drops from between Orlin’s thighs into the water. Later dozens of green apples are scattered across the stage floor. Fascinated, Orlin tries to find a way to balance herself using an apple like a heel under each foot. The unsteady effect is comic.
No sooner does Wilson stop to admire his work than Orlin begins pacing furiously on the other side of the grid, trying to divert his attention. But Wilson is unmoved, so focused is he on his own creation. So Orlin inconsiderately enters the grid, nudging a loaf here and there with her foot, disrupting his work–and his life. Wilson’s response is to confront her, but meekly. He puts one loaf back in place, then sits back down to look over his work. Furious, Orlin grabs Wilson’s bucket and begins to sift flour over him until he’s covered with the stuff, the flour creating an anthill on top of his bald head. Wilson is wholly passive; his only response is to check his watch.
But he doesn’t get far. When Orlin approaches him, he surrenders the bread-slippers to her. Left with nothing, he wanders desolately off the stage. She stands alone, cradling the slippers in her arms. Suddenly she begins to tear at them, until her cheeks are swollen with bread.
