A Brightly Shining Moon

I experienced a sinking feeling during the first fifteen minutes or so of Moon at the Bottom of the Ocean, the new play by Bryn Magnus from the Curious Theatre Branch, now playing at Chicago Dramatists.  The situation seemed dated and frayed at the edges: A scraggly bearded, deeply neurotic urban schlub named Paul (Jeffrey Bivens) who fancies himself a “literary novelist” but never seems to finish the novel he claims to be working on hires a detective to stalk a far more successful fellow writer who’s just won a MacArthur fellowship (aka the “Genius Grant”) in order to learn the “secret” of his prize-winning prose.  

The detective is an excessively assiduous young woman (a very droll and beautifully controlled performance by Julia Williams) who seems to double as a psychologist and has her own brand of strangeness: Her methodology for discerning the other writer’s secret is to spy on him at the coffee shop he frequents and make notes on his every gesture — taking a sip of coffee, steepling his fingers, brushing the hair out of his eyes, and so forth — in search of a “pattern.”  This, of course, is absurd, akin to comprehending the beauty of a gazelle that’s bounded beyond your field of vision by stooping to examine the long-gone creature’s spoor. 

But this is a work of theatre with hidden depths.  The writer is a complex and conflicted fellow who relates to the detective his nightmares of being pursued by iridescent zombies that have the voice of Ratso Rizzo (the archetypal urban schlub from the movie Midnight Cowboy.) He has more pleasant dreams, too, like discovering, in the palm of his hand, a transparent, dime-sized toad that has swallowed a ladybug.  This image — of the gemlike ladybug fully visible within the toad — hints at the surprises, and the buried beauty, that this excellent play slowly reveals.  So too, does the poetic title.  (The title could be interpreted as “light hidden in the depths” or “light shining from the depths” depending on how you view the growth of the characters over the course of the play.)

Paul’s wife, Leslie (Vicki Walden) happens to be a server at the same coffee shop that the writer frequents.  She also seems to be a tired stock character from many other plays and movies — the practical, grounded, rather drab and ever-supportive wife who believes in her husband’s dreams but must constantly remind him that, in the words of the poet Delmore Schwartz, “in dreams begin responsibilities.”

But Leslie isn’t just a housewife.  She is a singer too (Vicki Walden’s voice is supple and soulful.)  And, like the detective, she has a gift for surveillance.  The interactions among all three of the coffee shop denizens (we never actually meet the other writer, a fellow named Lebenow) become the source of some rich humor and unexpected twists, as the play, directed by Jenny Magnus and “co-piloted” by Charlotte Lastra, blossoms out to become far richer than what we were led to believe in the opening moments.

There is a particularly painful and insightful moment at the end of the first act which reminds us that, in an intimate relationship, neurosis can be contagious.  There are a number of other surprises and revelations in this twisty play, as well as some violence that’s visited upon the stubborn and irritating but dedicated and deeply faithful Paul.  It’s difficult to say much more about Moon Under the Ocean without giving away some crucial plot turns, but it’s a deep and thought-provoking evening of theatre, complete with original music inspired by the Hurrian Hymn, or the “ur-song,” the oldest melody known to humankind, discovered in cuneiform inscriptions on shards of clay tablets dating back to the 14th Century B.C.  (The original songs are by the play’s two female leads.) Moon at the Bottom of the Ocean’s bow to the ancient past is apropos at a time when the immediate future of the American independent theatre is being called into question; as long as companies such as the Curious Theatre, and playwrights such as Bryn Magnus, continue to create and innovate, the torch of art and music will remain illuminated.  

Highly Recommended

Reviewed by Michael Antman

Presented by the Curious Theatre Branch at Chicago Dramatists, 1105 W. Chicago Avenue

Tickets are available at www.CuriousTheatreBranch.com

Additional information about this and other area productions can be found by visiting www.theatreinchicago.com.