Theatre Gigante has been around for 25 years. 15 years ago soon-to-be co-Artistic Director Mark Anderson performed a monologue with the company. 15 years later he picks up that monologue where it left off in a performance he's calling Me, You, Art and Trout.
The monologue in question covers autobiography, art, literature, and the nature of free will and determinism. (Among other things.) A little bit of quite a lot of things are covered in a breezy, dreamlike presentation that plays in an intimate studio theatre deep in the heart of Milwaukee's East Side.
Mark Anderson is a tall thin gentleman from a certain generation. He is soft-spoken. There is a whimsical stream of consciousness about his narrative that speaks to a deeply interesting look at life and reality. The monologue itself may not be a terribly brilliant rendering of that perspective. Or maybe it is. In any case, it's fun to watch when seen from the right perspective.
Anderson rolls through the narrative with a sometimes graceful, sometimes grateful fluidity. The art parts of the performance tend to dominate it. Much of what Anderson is doing here is merely sharing his perspective on other works by other artists. Early on, Anderson mentions Duchamp's urinal. I guess I sort of see this as a key moment for the monologue. Duchamp was claiming something else that he did not make and putting it onstage as art in a way that made a statement on art and art alone. That's kind of what Anderson is doing here. Maybe.
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Take something, sign it and present it. It becomes yours. But it is also the audience's. And that's kind of what Anderson is doing here. He's making us a playlist of different works that he thinks of when the thinks of us: the rather cozy little audience he has played to over the past couple of decades.
Said another way, much of what Anderson is doing here is selecting items from his own personal recollection and presenting them and his interpretation of them in monologue format. Anderson makes very little judgments on the pieces in question.He ties them into a larger narrative in a way that is whimsically abstract. There is a larger sense of composition here. The problem is that Anderson is so good at delivering the spirit of stream of consciousness that it really does feel like he's just up there talking about things he loves in a way that hadn't been premeditated al that much. The only sense that we get that this is anything more than casual thought are the delightful little phrases that he sometimes manages to slide into the narrative. There is poetry here if you listen for it.
The works referenced include an eclectic mix. He goes on for considerable length about Macbeth. But he'll also mention the Grateful Dead. Dylan. And Brautigan's Trout Fishing in America. Themes and ideas mentioned in his presentation of the premise of each of the works echoes through the many of them in many weird ways. It can be fun to think about. It can also be kind of dull to experience in places. That being said, Anderson does a very good job of maintaining an active and dynamic narration without really changing his toys or approach.
Throughout, Andersen employees the same calm, cool, casual tone. It's almost a whisper. It's the sound of an intellect respirating. It's very relaxing. And it allows the experience of seeing the show to come across as being, as I say, very dreamlike. (Which is much of what cognition is--dreamlike.) And his tone speaks to the shadow beyond determinism that a lot of the monologue seems to be reaching for.
The performance rests somewhere between artful poetry and introductory college humanities seminar. For the most part Anderson falls just short of any deep insight into what he's talking about. This is because he is presenting it as a polished work in progress so he's still working it all out.
There's something very endearing about that. (I'm not sure what.)
It's somewhere between satisfying and thoroughly enjoyable. But neither of these descriptions really fit what's being performed here.
Me, You, Art and Trout is not brilliant. Nor is it particularly exhilarating. However, this really isn't a problem. Anderson is a pleasant enough personality to spend time with that it becomes a theater of intimacy. But, as the material seems to cover other works of art more often that covers Anderson's own life, that intimacy is a detached and playfully intellectual one.
One walks away from the performance not necessarily with any great insight and not necessarily having experienced anything frugally captivating. But one has experienced a moment of time with an artist. And one has experienced a deeply reflective moment with another human being and a crowd of others. That this evening is memorable at all speaks a great deal to what a truly remarkable person Anderson is. It's kind of an intellectual funhouse with a tall, soft-spoken usher. Not a bad way to spend part of an evening on the East Side.
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Theater Gigante's Me, You, Art and Trout runs through September 29th at Kenilworth Studio 508. For ticket reservations, call 414-229-4308 or visit Gigante online.
