From the paragraph description of MOTHS in the Fringe guide, I go in totally expecting some out there, nonsensical shit: “A wild crazy game where would-be artists and former lovers and/or siblings turned con-artists are manipulated by an inner gangster to trick a father and son out of their valuables while all of them are slowly turning into insects.” Yeah. I had no idea what any of that meant and firm doubts it would add up to much of anything. That’s what drew me and about 10 other people to the Bedroom on Friday night see MOTHS.
I got pretty much what I expected.
Putting the psycho description together with the title, you fear that, once seated, playwright and lead actor Stephen Notes is going to waltz out with a knife to cut off a piece of your skin for his women’s suit, a la Silence of the Lambs. The entrance of the shirtless, hairy, and potbellied Notes in boxer briefs, mismatched knee braces, a sport jacket, and necktie draped over his back, plodding around his garbage strewn apartment do little to dispel this fear. His partner Lili (Alexandra Friendly), clad in black dominatrix-looking negligee, fantasizing about how he murdered an ex-girlfriend and brought Lili back with the woman’s heart? The sex work she’s about to perform for a visiting father and son in tandem? Notes’ masturbating at the mesh cage of the moths, who sometimes speak up and plead for their freedom? Yeah, this is some demented shit. Your skin is definitely going to be tailored into women’s clothing.
As Notes switches voices between the characters of slobby Roy and erudite Marcus, it’s hard to know whether these are separate characters or the schizophrenic sides of one. And it doesn’t particularly matter which it is. As actress Anika Harden switches between father and son, both of whom really love buttermilk and, needless to say, have a creepy relationship with each other, the absurdity of some of the dialogue and its straight laced delivery makes it hard not to chuckle at the absurdity of it all.
As the performers take a bow, the expressions on their faces seem to indicate they’re not sure what you’ll think about the show, and they’re probably not sure what to make of it either. But they gamely lend themselves to it. This is Fringe, after all. Some of the stuff is supposed to be flat-out weird. Notes puts something raw and dark out there, something disturbing that may only make sense to him. And, credit where credit is due, he did not cut samples from anyone’s skin or trap their daughters in a subterranean dungeon after the play. At least not that I know of.
Remaining performances:
Tuesday, July 23 at 9:45 p.m.
Sunday, July 28 at 3:30 p.m.
The Bedroom at Fort Fringe, 612 L Street NW
Purchase tickets here.
