Adam Rapp's debut play Nocturne impressed me so much that I'm hesitant to write Animals and Plants off as a self-serving jumble of loosely-related ideas about searching for identity, betrayal in friendships and some other nonsense. There must be concrete answers as to why particular lines or scenes are included, and as to how they relate to the other scattered themes in the play.
Pre-curtain, a screen fills the length of the stage, on which a campy postcard-style picture of Daniel Boone with the words "Greetings From Boone, North Carolina" is projected. I fill my theatergoing partner in on the basic plot: Two guys are sent to Boone to exchange money for drugs. She tells me, "It's true, drug trade is big there because of college students." I give kudos to the playwright for coming up with an accurate basis for his storyline and settle down into my seat as the house lights go down. Our conversation contained the only rational statements made for the next two hours.
The screen rises to reveal a themed motel room featuring pictures of Daniel Boone and his dog, with various expeditions and abductions depicted life-sized across the walls. A bed occupies much of the stage, and empty pizza boxes are set in piles. Snow is seen streaming diagonally past the window of the hotel room and on the fuzzy television screen set up on the dresser -- the redundancy of which is the subject of one of the few laugh-out-loud moments in the play.
Dantly (Will Lebow), the elder of the two characters, is sprawled lethargically on the bed, head propped on the backboard. Get familiar with this scene -- he rarely moves for the remainder of the play. On the contrary, his polar opposite Burris (Ben Evett) never stops moving or talking.
The scene is wonderfully set up, and the possibilities for comedy seem endless. Burris wears a Kid Rock muscle tee and boxers, with silver hoops in each ear, and his hair is dyed an unnatural blond. Floppy tan socks complete the look. But despite absurdly comic situations that follow -- Dantly injuring himself by sticking an ice scraper down his pants -- the only laughs that come are nervous titters at the lewder lines ("I shaved my ass this morning").
The duo continues discussing a variety of subjects, several of which focus on their body and bodily functions. It becomes known that they have been working together for ten years -- a decade, Burris spells out for Dantly. Burris often flings language around, and it is apparent he likes doing so. Whether or not he is accurate is another issue (he defines "truculent" as "booger-y translucence"), but he speaks with utmost confidence in his knowledge. The banter continues, ebbing and flowing as Dantly aims to place himself higher than animals and plants on the hierarchy of life. Amongst the queries of existence and the crises that Dantly incurs through the play are countless exchanges about penises, Right Guard, getting laid, and drug use.
The central point of the play is that Dantly feels he is a void -- he is certain that he takes up no room inside anybody's head. And he knows that there is a void in his pants that he tries to continually occupy with something, whether it be an ice-scraper, a remote control, or a loaded gun. Despite his attempt to fill his time with girls and with words, he has no control over these personal vacancies, such as the one that his tooth left when it inexplicably came out of his gums. His memory is likewise full of holes -- he has difficulty remembering the name of "that plant that grows in the desert," or even his age.
Conversely, Burris is confident, goal-oriented, and knows exactly what is down his pants, as is indicated by the red bull's-eye target on his briefs, enhanced by a sock. He boosts his presence by being overactive -- he scuffles with the pictures on the wall, uses the Ab Roller, and swigs beer.
The remainder of the play involves bear bongs, a failed seduction of Burris, a mysteriously dangerous Burning Man, and a surprising twist when Dantly controls not only his fate, but Burris' as well. You won't "get it" when you walk out of the theater, and you may not even enjoy your night, but Rapp's skilled writing examining the dark underpinnings of human identity and inquisitiveness will haunt you in the hours or days to come.
Animals and Plants, The Hasty Pudding Theater (Harvard Square), through April 15, Tickets $25 - $59, 617-627-8300, 2 stars.
