Stupid Fucking Bird

The Pearl Theater's production of Stupid Fucking Bird, Aaron Posner's 21st-century riff/recreation of The Seagull, is well-directed, well-acted, well-designed, and a great deal of fun. Its meta approach, with actors speaking directly to the audience, silly songs, and a fresh point of view, brings energy to the familiar story. However, it does not add up to much, nor does it teach us something new about Chekhov's original play.

[spoilers below]
While Stupid Fucking Bird sticks loosely to Chekhov's plot, its cheerfulness does much to undercut the emotions of the story. Yes, Con's mother, the great actress Emma, will never give him the attention and support he needs, but Con is cut from very different cloth than the Konstantin of the original. Konstantin is a whiny loser. His play in the first act is the artistic equivalent of his yelling at his mother, "I hate you," and throwing a tantrum. (Not that he wouldn't be justified. That Arkadina is one lousy mother, as is Emma in Posner's play.) Con's play in the first act is similar, but Con himself is loquacious and outgoing. His constant interaction with the audience is the charming heart of the play. Similarly, the eventual happiness of Mash/Masha and Dev/Medvedenko undoes Chekhov's presentation of the traps we set for ourselves when we can't get what we want. Add to that Con's being alive at the end of the play, and Stupid Fucking Bird becomes considerably less tragic than its forebear.[end of spoilers]

So, what does Stupid Fucking Bird offer us? Well, it's a lot more fun than The Seagull, and as someone who has seen the original perhaps one time too often, it's a relief. There's something frustrating about Chekhov's characters and their stubborn unwillingness to grow, change, or simply get a clue. But beside entertainment--which is, of course, nothing to sneeze at--Stupid Fucking Bird offers little. There are no new insights, no great emotion, nothing in the way of catharsis. It's a light and amiable romp, which is also nothing the sneeze at. It just seems to want to be more.


Stupid Fucking Bird is directed by Davis McCallum. The cast  features Bianca Amato (Emma), Dan Daily (Sorn), Erik Lochtefeld (Trig), Marianna McClellan (Nina), Joey Parsons (Mash), Joe Paulik (Dev), and Christopher Sears (Con).

The creative team is Sandra Goldmark (set), Amy Clark (costumes), Mike Inwood (lights), Mikhail Fiksel (sound), and Katie Young (production stage manager).

Wendy Caster
(6th row center; press ticket)

Songbird

Songbird, the new musical by Michael Kimmel (book) and Lauren Pritchard (music and lyrics), directed by JV Mercanti, brings The Seagull to Nashville in the 21st century. The book is effective and the songs soar.

Erin Dilly, Kate Baldwin
Photo: Jenny Anderson Photography

There's just one problem: they don't add up to a musical. The entire score is diegetic, which doesn't have to be a negative, but in this case it is. Unlike Dreamgirls, where the diegetic songs act almost as character songs by matching the mood and situation of each person, Songbird metes its music out almost at random. There are few songs that could be sung only by that character at that moment. The result is a country version of The Seagull featuring people who happen to sing a lot. The whole becomes less than the sum of its parts.

But the parts are good enough that Songbird is still worth seeing, particularly with its excellent cast. Kate Baldwin, fine as the endlessly bitchy mother who cannot relinquish even one watt of the spotlight, sounds the best I've ever heard her. Considering that she is always wonderful, that is saying something. Baldwin nails the country sound, and I would gladly listen to her sing all night. Erin Dilly is also at her impressive best. Adam Cochran is heart-breaking as the son who would die for his mother's attention. Kacie Sheik nicely shows the cost of compromise as the Masha equivalent Missy. Bob Stillman is excellent as the diva's brother, trying to bring peace to the family, and it's fun to see him cast against type. The rest of the cast also shines: Ephie Aardema, Don Guillory, Drew McVety, Eric William Morris, and Andy Taylor.

The more I think about it, the more I would prefer to see an evening just of Lauren Pritchard's work, sung by those terrific singers. The Seagull plot kinda got in the way.

Wendy Caster
(8th row, press ticket)