Fringe 2014

Fringe, Reviewed: White Rabbit Red Rabbit

"No one forgets it's a show, and no one thinks that we're witnessing a critical mortal moment."

[ theater ]

White Rabbit Red Rabbit, by Nassim Soleimanpour/FringeArts

Attended: Sun., Sept. 7, 7 p.m., Christ Church Neighborhood House; closes Sun. Sept. 21, 3 p.m. 

A different actor at each performance reads for the first (and last) time, the true life story of a young Iranian. Will you really listen?

WE THINK:

That's the issue: will we really listen, will we really be there, will we accept the situation? In classrooms, we call it "the willing suspension of disbelief," the mental trick of faith that allows us to invest fully in a situation even while we know it's a fiction. It's what allows us to cry in sad movies and feel scared while reading horror novels.

Or, in this case, to buy fully into the situation devised by the playwright.

Soleimanpour creates an intriguing scenario: a different actor for each performance is given the script, in a sealed envelope, in front of the audience. The lines and actions are all there for him or her to say and do. Anyone who's ever witnessed cold reading auditions probably shudders at the prospect, but in the hands of capable actors -- and FringeArts has assembled some of Philadelphia's best -- we can't help but anticipate a lively, spontaneous performance.

But the device is more than a gimmick; the playwright uses it to test our willingness to let go of our back-leaning, arms-crossed, "put on a show for me" reticence and dive into an unusual situation involving a social experiment and a fatal choice. I don't want to give too much away, because Soleimanpour wants the audience, like the actor, to enter blind and to trust. He wants the experience to move beyond amusing theatrical chicanery to a genuine life-or-death situation.

Alas, it doesn't work. No one forgets it's a show, and no one thinks that we're witnessing a critical mortal moment. Some were willing to risk a little audience involvement -- sit in the first row if you want to participate -- but at Sunday's performance, no one crossed that line Soleimanpour draws separating show and life.

In fact, on Sunday evening, two senior women in front of me not only chatted and giggled through the show, but approached the actor afterward -- disregarding instructions not to -- to tell him that they kept their eyes open when we were asked to close them, and therefore knew a key piece of information. They seemed very proud to have figured out the artifice, showing no empathy for the character the script created or for the actor's efforts -- to them, it was just a puzzle to solve.

To me, their behavior epitomized something wrong with our Twitter-happy society: instead of allowing ourselves the genuine risk of feeling involved, we stay in critical mode, safely dissecting the experience while it's occurring instead of actually embracing the experience.Yes, though I am a critic, I abhor on-the-spot criticism during an event; one must actually fully attend and participate before analyzing, we can't do both simultaneously.

I was certainly engaged and intrigued by the situation, and thought a lot about the nature of theatre, about our willingness to obey and conform (people did exactly what they were told, except when it came to their cell phones -- what does that mean?) and, of course, about our modern American wariness cloaked in know-it-all-ism.