Stupid Fucking Bird

Entering the Victory Gardens Richard Christiansen Theater last Friday night, my companion and I were engaging in some benign pre-show chitchat before the play was to begin. In the meantime, several actors were seated just outside the wings of the set, in full view of the audience, and there was a young woman strumming a ukulele onstage (playing and singing Beyonce's "Crazy in Love," at one point).

As more players entered the stage, the audience was addressed directly, and asked to begin the play by shouting, "Start the fucking play!" And so began a fascinating and entertaining night of unique theater which stretched the boundaries of convention, bringing the audience into its world by breaking the fourth wall time and again, and letting its own tongue-in-cheek self-awareness breathe new life into a timeless tale of unrequited love and the meaning of art.

"Stupid Fucking Bird," by playwright Aaron Posner, is "sort of" adapted from Anton Chekhov's "The Seagull." That said, this is no mere retelling of Chekhov's story; the play itself both presents the characters as contemporary players and allows them to push the limits of storytelling, thus actually embodying the thrust of the underlying theme of artistic integrity.

We meet Conrad (Nate Whelden), an aspiring playwright returning to the country estate of his actress mother Emma (Stacy Stoltz). Their relationship is tenuous at best, with Emma boasting of her brilliance as an artist while conceding her failing as a mother. Conrad serves to remind Emma of the mistakes of her youth and of the passing of time, the natural enemy of actresses everywhere.

Conrad is in love with the youthful aspiring actress Nina (Nina O'Keefe), whose beauty and charm are not so well-matched by her talent. Still, Conrad has high ideals to create art in brilliant new forms, and Nina is set to perform his latest work at Emma's country estate, before an audience that will include Emma's longtime lover and author of note Trigorin (Cody Proctor), the estate manager's daughter Mash (Katy Caroline Collins), Conrad's erstwhile friend and sometime narrator Dev (Matt Fletcher), and Emma's doctor brother Sorn (Norm Woodel).

While there is a performance piece that features Nina (swathed in a flowing white dress borrowed without permission from the jealous Emma), the thrust of the play is the meaning of that art and of art itself, and around the personal struggles and relationships that exist among the players.

Conrad struggles to find his voice as an artist, hilariously comparing contemporary entertainment to mere theatrical "hand jobs." At the same time, his adoration for Nina comes under jeopardy as she becomes distracted by the older and already accomplished Trigorin. In the meantime, Conrad is the unreciprocating object of affection for Mash, whose goth makeup and dark clothes only partially cover her tender heart, and who is seemingly unaware that she is in turn adored by the awkward and sincere Dev. The only player not ensconced in this web of affections is the elderly Sorn, who comments on life as he nears the end of it ("I feel like I could do my late 20s right this time!").

We continue to follow the character over the course of a weekend at Emma's estate, as Trigorin succumbs to Nina's youthful adoration, as Mash pines for love from Conrad, and as Conrad fights with himself in how best to win his beloved's attention, even going so far as fielding suggestions from the audience themselves.

We also see the outcome of their choices as we fast-forward via narration to four years later, as Trigorin and Nina recover (somewhat) from the disaster of their affair, Mash learns to move past her obsessive love to something more substantial, and Conrad continues to be immersed in battle between his artistic ideals and the realities of living in the world as it is.

The actors, led by director Jonathan L. Green, do a wonderful job of balancing the integrity of their characters with the inherent absurdity of the play's style. In particular, Whelden is excellent as the tormented idealist Conrad, and Stoltz is magnetic as the fiery Emma. Still, the ages of the actors (save Woodel) were more close together than written, and that detracted considerably from the impact of the romantic entanglements and betrayals.

The play itself is briskly paced and engaging, despite some lagging during Nina's "mad scene." (Or perhaps I'm just tired of extended scenes of young actresses going mad). The writing overall was solid, and though perhaps enhanced by prior knowledge of Chekhov's work, was well constructed enough to leave any audience member sufficiently entertained.

"Stupid Fucking Bird" runs through September 21 at Victory Gardens Richard Christiansen Theater, 2433 N Lincoln Ave in Chicago. For information or tickets, call 773-871-3000 or visit www.victorygardens.org