Dada is dead, or so the audience is informed by one of the figures in white makeup and shabby suits. On his orders, we stand, while he's in the process of angrily explaining why we should immediately leave. At the back of the stage, an unrelated commotion is in full swing, setting the tone of uncomfortable audience participation and choreographed chaos.
Everyone stayed, and we were rewarded with an evening of surpassing strangeness. It would be hard to find a show onstage in Chicago right now more gleeful in both its disregard for the rules of narrative coherence and its enthusiasm for provoking and insulting the audience. The entire cast attacks with nonsense, shrieking songs, and bizarre poems. None of them are identified by name except for Jen Ellison as Dada Dabo, leader of the revels, but all are expert at the tricky stylistic balancing act of this production.
Some vignettes are funny; others are unpleasant and distressing. For a little over 90 minutes, we are living in Dada, and for about the first hour it’s an incredibly exciting experience.
Unfortunately, the show lacks a through-line, so scenes that are individually fascinating and engaging begin to wear thin about 30 minutes before the play ends. Despite this, one doesn't often have the opportunity to see such a sustained and entertaining attack on the audience’s usual expectations. It’s a dangerous world onstage at the Storefront, and those willing to take the risk will find the evening rewarding, despite its flaws.
Reviewed by Centerstage!
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