From Little Red River
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Theatre Junction Grand
Friday, February 29 - Saturday, March 15
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Little Red River starts off so well. Harry Smith 's (Steve Turner) motorcycle breaks down in the middle of nowhere, and he's picked up by Charlie and Tenfoot (Mike Tan and Peter Moller), two potentially interesting characters in a “piece of shit pickup.” The unlikely trio sets off to an inexplicably placed roadside hotel, where Harry meets Rose (Raphaele Thiriet) and falls in love. Harry then reveals to the audience that shortly following his first encounter with Rose, he was accused of murdering her and later acquitted.
The story of Harry's life — and consequently the story of his murder trial — unfolds in a series of narrative segments, songs, interpretive dances and many combinations of the three. Conceptually, it's a sharp, original way of telling a story with enormous emotional potential. In practice, it's an ultimately vapid waste of talent wrought with far too many arthouse clichés.
What's most disappointing about Little Red River is its abuse of the obvious talent involved. The musical segments are — when weighed entirely on their own merits — rather good, with also-actor Ian Kilburn providing excellent vocals to also-sound designer Moller's score. The dance portions are an athletic marvel. The sets and costumes are minimal while still maintaining an impressive esthetic appeal. The story, however, is awful, and all of its performance art appendages end up feeling like empty eclecticism designed to obscure its banality.
Stop me if you've heard any of these: A woman is sexually abused in a mental institution. A boy is forced to dress up like a girl by his mother. A prostitute with a heart of gold changes the life of a gruff man with a troubled past. A man dreams of murdering the woman he loves and then himself, so that they can be together in the afterlife. Life is hard on the streets. For all of its desperate emotional provocation and pseudo-Brechtian posturing, Little Red River contains far too much simplistic, derivative tripe to reach the intellectual bar it has clearly set for itself.
Necessary criticisms aside, River isn't entirely a waste of time. For those who can forgive a poor story in light of very solid audio and visual appeal, it has certain gestalt. In this way, the show is kind of an anti-action movie. There isn't much to slake the appetite of anyone hungering for intellectual or emotional resonance, but damn if it isn't pretty to look at. Still, the same effect could be achieved tossing a decent album into a visualization program, dimming the lights and burning some incense.
