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A CurtainUp Review
Maria del Bosco A Sound Opera (Sex and Racing Cars) by Les Gutman
We hear precious little from the mouths of the trio. Most of Foreman's text is delivered via recorded voices intoning statements that are repeated, layered and mixed with a collage of sound, some musical, some not, to form another remarkable whole. He calls it a "sound opera". What we see onstage is, by Foreman standards, a simpler tableau of shattered and shattering images, but it is those voices that ultimately resonate, their contained aphorisms drumming out Foreman's message and dictating, or so it might seem, his characters' actions. The real is what destroys you. Make contact with the real and it destroys you. The only way to be comfortable is to be dead. Delay of gratification is gratification. Silence is not golden. That time passes is marked by ever-present clocks, one of Maria del Bosco's most emphatic motifs. But what time is it? The play ends with a maxim that offers us Foreman's take: "Resist the present," we are told. It's an imperative that attaches to the characters, but it's also a primer for the audience as well. Enjoyment of Foreman's plays -- this one is as engaging as it is entertaining -- demands that we relax our theater-going muscles, letting the sights and sounds (which abound) seep into our subconscious rather than seeking out some present-tense, linear explication. Foreman, the clarity of whose vision is enhanced by his service as not only writer and director but also designer of his shows, has a way of attracting remarkably sympatico collaborators. Juliana Francis, who is fast becoming a staple in his plays (this is the third of his last four shows in which she has been featured), is stupendous as his prima ballerina here; the other two women are equally good, and even the gaggle of young men who back them up are impeccable. Together, the produce an end-product ever bit as finely tuned as the most expensive Swiss version of all of those clocks Foreman has on display. LINKS TO REVIEWS OF OTHER RICHARD FOREMAN PLAYS Paradise Hotel Bad Boy Nietzsche Now That Communism is Dead, My Life Feels Empty
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