Some of my favorite theatrical experiences have happened far, far from the usual proscenium theater. Many of the best plays I’ve ever seen have been in bars, or barns, or even graveyards. There’s something about the ritualistic quality of a group of people, huddled into a small, unusual space, watching a work of art, that tingles with unique energy. Since coming back to reviewing theatre, I had been chasing that feeling again, and the fine folks at Bottle Alley and director Trace Turner were more than ready to provide. When I stumbled into the greenhouse that was to be the stage of their latest production, a reimaging of their former hit “Wraith Radio”, surrounded by the scattered, outdated technology and aging paperbacks that make up Joe Kelley’s clever set design, simple fans trying their best to keep at bay the oppressive Texas heat, I could see wide, eager smiles on the faces of every member of that devoted crowd. As Bottle Alley’s fine fable of loss and grief played out, it felt less like a work of theatre and more like a communal ritual, a ceremonial rite bursting with youthful vigor and punk exuberance that left its audience sweat-drenched, tear-stained, and breathless.
“Wraith Radio” takes a surprisingly simple set up and creates from it something mesmerizing. We find ourselves in the bunker of Wraith, a soldier in an unknown war, obviously on her last legs, as she runs a radio program that may or may not actually exist. While the broadcast continues, figures from her past and present float through the space, leaving the audience wondering whether what we’re seeing is real, dream, or something in between. Muddying the waters further is the occasional appearance of death himself, a kind gentlemen whose reality is similarly unclear. It’s a bold work built on dream logic, flowing with an ethereal somnambulance that’s utterly engrossing.
With a structure this loose, without a solid heart at the center those frayed edges can easily come apart, but luckily Cassandra DeFrietas’ defiant, heartbreaking performance as Wraith more than does the trick. With a emotive fury and fine physicality she exhibits the pain and anger of a character kicked around by fate, while gripping hard to her own reality as everything around her falls apart. Though she’s often very serious through out, the actress shows an ability to bring out the few moments of humor with her undeniable charm, and the chemistry she is able to create with her ghostly lover played by Devin Finn is undeniable.
Devin Finn is given quite a task in “Wraith Radio”, as the audience is left to wonder just what Jessie, Wraith’s former lover, is exactly. Is he just a memory, an actual ghost in the space, or something even less literal? We see Jessie fade before us as the play progresses, and it’s a testament to the pure power of Finn’s talent that this loss feels absolutely palpable. Constantly fumbling, stumbling, and falling, he’s the very image of corrosion, the whisper of memory fading to nothing, the heartbreak of forgetting given physical form. Finn’s sensuality here is visceral, as her creates a closeless with DeFrietas that can be physically painful to watch.
Of all the characters’ who grace the stage of “Wraith Radio”, Rosemary McGraw’s Star may be the most emotionally intriguing. Though many of the members of the work remain a mystery, Star’s history is laid bare before us, and McGraw brings a melancholy to the work that sinks deep. When we first meet Star, we know she’s not going to last until play’s end. Her leg is tourniqueted, seemingly infected, and more than one discussion is brought up about when it’s going to be removed (there was a tension in the humid air of the theater over whether we’d see this occur on stage). McGraw is left with a lot to carry, whether it be the leg, the British accent, or her heartbreaking backstory, and it’s to her credit that she steals every scene she’s in. Indeed, her soul-rending monologue near the end creates the play’s most impactful moment, creating the perfect door to the play’s sorrowful finale.
With “Wraith Radio”, Bottle Alley has created something I’ve been yearning for for ages, the kind of collective fantasia that lingers in your memory. Bottle Alley has always sought to prove that you need neither budget nor space to create true works of art, and “Wraith Radio” brings that message in spades, creating with limited budget and a unique space one of the most memorable nights of theater I’ve had in some time.
Photo courtesy of Flashbax23 Photography.
AUSTIN ARTS WATCH 