“We have free Ex-Lax after the show,” playwright Mike Fox announces cheerily during the intermission. He’s joking, of course. But the thought is appreciated, since never before has there been a play so much in need of an enema.
The Object of My Obsession is all object and no obsession. An obsession is a psychotic state in which the obsessed believes that his beloved will redeem his sterile and pathetic life. Boy Gets Girl is an obsession. Obsession is an obsession. The Object of My Obsession is the story of Warren’s (Ben Kingsland) unrequited love for Gretchen (Casey Keeler) who is, as we say, not that into him. It’s a story that’s repeated ten thousand times every night, in a thousand cities across America.
Or, really, it’s both less and more than that. It’s less because it’s unlikely that Warren actually loves Gretchen, whom he floods with his theories on classic rock but who he never asks about her small business or her MBA studies. It’s more because not only does Warren moon after Gretchen, but we are afflicted with the doomed love of Jamie (Charlene V. Smith) for John, a serial dater (David Robinson) and of Jessica (Ashley Hammond) for Ray (Baye Harrell), a serial bridegroom. The Maestro Coffee Shop, where they all work and play, apparently doubles as Heartbreak Hotel.
The acting is pretty wooden, which is easy to understand given the sogginess of the dialogue. “I didn’t know Goth girls drank coffee” Jamie snarls at a bewildered, lip-bestudded customer (Andrea McPherson). “He’s smitten like a kitten, as my wife, Helen, likes to say,” pronounces self-satisfied coffee-shop manager Stanley (Ted Ballard), apparently to distinguish from his wife Philomena, who is presumptively less familiar with smitten kittens. And Gretchen, having received Warren’s business card, proceeds to read it back to him, as though she fears that he has forgotten his own accomplishments.
She’s reading, incidentally, from a Metro Card, one of the technical side’s several fabulous faux pas. Another is to have a big bottle of Ex-Lax (looking suspiciously like Deer Park water) sitting on the counter for most of the first Act. Although it helps set up the Big Joke late in the Act (I bet you can’t guess what it is!) I imagine it doesn’t help to sell very many jumbo frappuccinos or those little coffee-house pizzas.
Writing awkward dialogue and small talk is an art. Writing a play which is 80% awkward dialogue and small talk is an atrocity. Eventually this gas giant of a play boils down to some pithy, new-agey observations from Stanley, the essence of which is that Warren should be himself. Had this advice come from the Dalai Lama, or Dr. Phil, or that Kung Fu guy Keith Carradine used to play it might have been more credible but coming from Stanley the Coffee Guy it just didn’t have that swing, if you know what I mean. Moreover, it was wrong: the last thing Warren needs to do is to be himself, since he appears mostly to be a whining doodoohead. He should learn to be better than himself.
Some nice instrumentals from a tight band (Carl Larsen, David Buskell, and Zach Ladd) periodically punctuate this mess; I looked forward to these interludes as a desert traveler looks forward to a cool oasis. Toward the end of the play Kingsland, who has a serviceable if underpowered voice, does a couple of pleasant numbers with them.
From his biography, playwright Fox appears to be working hard to improve his skills and raise his work product to a professional level. He should do the equivalent to this script. Until then, though, The Object of my Obsession will continue to be the locus of my objection.
- Running Time: 120 minutes, including one fifteen-minute intermission.
- Tickets: The Object of My Obsession
- Remaining Show: Sat, July 26 at 7:30
- Where: Capitol Hill Presbyterian Church, 201 4th Street, SE
Wow. Just wow. Mr. Potty Mouth, Mr. Potty Treanor. Really? You have no clue what you’re talking about, do you? Nope. You don’t. Mike is a good friend and collaborator of mine. We did sketch comedy together. He inspired me to try stand up comedy. His ideas and his dialogue are ground-breaking, hilarious, and innovative. I’ll bet you’re the sort of person that thinks sit-coms are funny, particularly the ones where a pre-recorded, canned laugh-track is readily available.
And Ms. McPherson is right – I can write circles around you, too. Observe:
1. The hocus of your ‘perfection’.
2. The pocus of your inspection.
3. The locust up your rectum.
4. asdfghjkl
And so on.
Oh, by the way, #4 demonstrates that it took more effort, tact, integrity, and brains to run my fingers across the keyboard than it took for the ‘crock [us] of your rejection’. It’s reviews like yours that make real artists doubt themselves.
See, we artists have a voice inside our heads that tells many of us that our art is not good enough.
So I say, bravo, good sir, for echoing that voice. It takes a real artist to shitpan the work of others…
Oh, wait. Um, have you created any? Art, I mean?
A novel? Sreenplay? Haiku? Filthy limerick on a bathroom wall?
Food for thought, good sir, food for thought.
I saw the play and enjoyed all the characters and story. I know these people from somewhere–oh, yah, the coffeeshop. Nice going! A fun jab at heartbreak and re-invention.
it’s too bad you’re not a good enough writer to be hired to review more riztier, high budget fringe festival plays. as a writer, i could write circles around you. condsider finding another way to make your bread and butter … here’s a suggestion, why don’t i take your job?
i thought the play was spectacular. i’m concerned that you were so wrapped up in all the mistakes that every new playwright and director makes, that there was no room in your miniscule brain to process the enjoyable parts of the play. i suppose you were the pale man, sitting alone in the corner, not laughing; the only one not laughing. i thought David Robinson, Baye Harrell and ME, Andrea McPherson, did a spectacular job with sustaining the more comedic moments in the play. perhaps you should see the play again; dvd’s will be on sale in a few weeks, i’ll send you one. thanks for the pubilicity mr. treanor. (i will not capitalize your name for obvious reasons)
oh, and bestudded? did you assume that, since i was “Goth Girl,” that i had piercings on my lip? look again, sir. and next time, be more thurough in what you think you might see or hear and your writing will be up to par … just maybe.
again, thanks!
I would like to thank Tim Treanor for posting his review on DC Theatre Scene. Even though this show wasn’t Treanor’s cup of tea, more people know about it because of his review. I will make sure that I can find a quote from this review and put it on the the plays’ web site or a future production flier.
I choose to value the opinions of the other people who saw it. The show is very close to life and when I wrote the piece, I wrote it from the heart. While there were things about the show that were not perfect, the audience still laughed and clapped in between scenes. I see that as a good sign. Some people find realism boring. That’s fine.