Sex in a time of technology

In the case of community theater in Portland, subtlety has become a lost art. Well, that is a bit of a generalization, but it is certainly the case for Third Eye’s latest endeavor of Dylan Hillerman’s Grand Guignol (pronounced Grahn Geen-yol). A play comprised of four original one-acts, it falls heavily on the recent fad of ironic graphic gore and sex, and falls flat in terms of entertainment.

Taking a cue from the macabre theater of France during the turn of the 20th century, Grand Guignol does nothing to foster an appreciation for the silly, overtly violent and sexual nature of the pieces that made it a must-see in the past.

The four one-acts are composed of ridiculous plots, such as one devoted to a couple finding out that their online lovers are actually their parents at an anonymous swingers gathering, anchored with lame death and sex jokes and gratuitous use of the word “fuck.” I am all for using the word “fuck” in theater, especially during violent and sexual scenes, but its use, most of the time, is completely unnecessary in Grand Guignol.

When the stories of the four plays, roughly half an hour each, aren’t going into cranky New Yorker mode, most of them don’t explain enough to let the imagination really take hold. Such is the case for the last piece, entitled “Silicone Death Cult,” which just went too far as it tried to make as many weird connections to humanity’s use of technology through the rape of an online whore and a man that works with robots (or at least I think that was the idea).

The best of the quartet was “Under My Skin.” Despite its lack of plump plot points, it has the best payoff with a zombie-like fellow ripping the head off another guy. Of course, it is at the very end of the production, which may be the only thing that is true to form to the performance type’s predecessor—in that Ira Kortum (who incidentally is also the writer of the piece) knows enough to leave the one truly satisfyingly sanguine moment till the very end of the production.

The acting, for the most part, doesn’t help the shoddy writing. A few notable performances include the work of Jeff Gardner as a horny married man and murderer, and Tana Miller as Master of Ceremonies. As talented as she is, and as fitting the part is (Miller is also a burlesque dancer), there are some very simple things that could have given Miller’s performance more impact, such as putting a spotlight on her while leaving the rest of the stage and the audience in the dark. Lighting has always been less than ideal for the Back Door Theater, but Miller’s turns into torturing stage hands and cackling incessantly would be far more entertaining if the scene was set for all eyes on her.

Dylan Hillerman’s Grand Guignol does not do its original creator justice. From the meandering dialogue to the elementary acting, it falls short of its own grand expectations to arouse, disgust and amuse.