Theater review: Red Speedo by Theatre Exile
Please note: This article is published as an archive copy from Philadelphia City Paper. My City Paper is not affiliated with Philadelphia City Paper. Philadelphia City Paper was an alternative weekly newspaper in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The last edition was published on October 8, 2015.
"Everyone is willing to sell each other out, rationalizing their greed with twisted logic."
Brian Ratcliffe as Ray in "Red Speedo."
Theatre Exile
Theatre Exile
How selfish can people be? That’s the real issue driving Lucas Hnath’s drama, Red Speedo. Performance-enhancing drugs in the world of sports are just a backdrop for a taut, often darkly funny — in a laugh-while-cringing way — script smartly directed by Theatre Exile’s Deborah Block.
Brian Ratcliffe plays swimmer Ray, who on the eve of his Olympic trials is implicated in a drug scandal. “This is science,” naive Ray objects, comparing his juicing to the equalizing effect of affirmative action. Brother Peter — Keith Conallen, in another superbly committed performance — is Ray’s lawyer and manager, determined to sign Ray to a Speedo endorsement deal. Ray’s coach (Leonard C. Haas) claims the moral high ground, but has his own agenda: Ray’s success will fund his struggling team. Ray appeals to his ex-girlfriend (Jaylene Clark Owens), but she requires something, too.
The action occurs on Colin McIlvaine’s small swimming pool set, which provides real water and that unmistakable chlorine smell, and traps its on-edge characters on the literal water’s edge. Drew Billiau’s lighting and Christopher Colucci’s sound help suggest the pool’s vastness.
Everyone is willing to sell each other out, rationalizing their greed with twisted logic. “If I have money,” muses Ray, “then I can be like a real person.” The situation resembles an early David Mamet play, like Glengarry Glen Ross, as does Hnath’s hyperactive naturalistic overlapping dialogue, which Block’s cast performs with precision, passion and power.
Also Mametian is Red Speedo’s relentless build to emotional and physical violence: These aren’t just characters talking, they’re desperate people fighting for their lives.
Through Nov. 23, $37, Theatre Exile at Studio X, 1340 S. 13th St., 215-218-4022, theatreexile.org.
