Writer: Bob Karper
Director: Gary Winters
Bob Karper’s weird rumination on the nature and character of every meaning possible of “suburbia” takes us in a hundred different directions over the course of its 80 minute runtime. He zags, gently, when a zig seems natural. An accordion appears from a BBQ. But he knows what he’s doing. What could have been a fairly mawkish thinkpiece on his early life in a Chicago suburb, and his parents marital and later health issues, is instead an engaging and fun romp through various stories and memories that help us consider the small things in a rather big way.
His monologue, in the form of a variety show revue, is more of a mixed media experience. Recordings of older folk discussing complex thoughts of place and belonging are overlaid at times. His piano numbers are emotive, and a patter song about his past fights accompanied by himself on accordion and an audience helper on a reception bell is a triumph. He finds it in himself to do a tolerable job of contortionism.
All of this is in service of exploring the real meanings of how we organise things – people and populations, thoughts, memories and our own consciousness. What and where is core, and what can be relegated to the periphery. It’s a thoughtful and idiosyncratic presentation, performed with a chaotic array of props on a tiny stage and projections on three panels throughout to emphasise, illustrate and enhance his stories.
Karper seems a natural raconteur. His structure of stories is lovely, and his charismatic way of telling them brings us easily into his world. Some sections are, however, dragged out to an unnecessary degree – see the combination dance/trombone recital. There’s a world of emotional rich material here. Cutting some of that indulgent fluff would uncover it and make this pleasant, strange, hour and 20 mins a great one.
Runs until 25 June 2022
