Liz hailed the cab while covered with a cardboard fruit box and Vic and I cowered in the doorway of a noodle shop. It was not much longer until we were in the cab arguing with the driver about how to get to the Whitehall South Ferry station. He dropped us off by the docks and not the entrance- so we puddle jumped until we reached the slick open cube that is the station. As I jockeyed for tickets, Liz and Vic grabbed up our soaking coats and started to dry them off with the bathroom hairdryers. If the train station is the stage- our show had already begun.
The space is expansive with a fuzzy white natural light cascading in. The crowd thins and swells as passengers arrive and leave on the Staten Island Ferry. There is a bank of seats on risers at the far end of the terminal, a single headset slung over each one. Soon those of us gathered for Back to Back Theater's small metal objects are seated facing out at the people strolling through the station. We take our seats and as the soundtrack begins we start to hear a conversation coming from the crowd. The dialogue is fed to us through the headsets, we are vulnerable, quiet and poised.
The drama that enfolds is a simple one, two friends speak to each other in hushed tones about their lives, and as it evolves their conversation is interrupted. One friend takes a business call about a drug deal - and a nefarious lawyer tries to score some blow for an "important" event. The passengers and inhabitants of the ferry terminal are acting as extras, roaming around, drinking coffee, reading the paper, and trying desperately to ignore the 150 people staring at this secret drama in front of them.
Some tough characters walk right in front of our group - they are glaring at us, their eyes speaking volumes. As the story and sound (an undulating soundtrack of extended tones) frames our view of the station the anxiety level starts inching up. Although I know I am safe, I can't help but think that every ferry passenger who stops to take something out of a backpack is going to turn a gun on us, we are after-all on their turf. I keep thinking the actors might be in danger, or that someone might walk up to them and interrupt their scene with questions. In the end the two friends are left on their own - appropriately casting out the drug hungry lawyer and his manipulative shrew of a co-worker, the next ferry docks and another few hundred people stumble on us applauding the actors whom have lined up before us to take their bow. Pigeons fly through the station cutting through the scene which is both poetic and strange.
When I re-connect with my co-workers a few of us shed tears not sure why we are crying. Perhaps the show was about how the love between friends defines character more than how we make our money, or perhaps it was how small dramas are unfolding in front of us all the time, or perhaps it was about paying attention to our role in the world, where we stand- how we act amongst others and who we value. In the end it does not matter. We have been profoundly touched by this show and the multiplicity of meaning presented to us.
Kristan Kennedy, PICA
The space is expansive with a fuzzy white natural light cascading in. The crowd thins and swells as passengers arrive and leave on the Staten Island Ferry. There is a bank of seats on risers at the far end of the terminal, a single headset slung over each one. Soon those of us gathered for Back to Back Theater's small metal objects are seated facing out at the people strolling through the station. We take our seats and as the soundtrack begins we start to hear a conversation coming from the crowd. The dialogue is fed to us through the headsets, we are vulnerable, quiet and poised.
The drama that enfolds is a simple one, two friends speak to each other in hushed tones about their lives, and as it evolves their conversation is interrupted. One friend takes a business call about a drug deal - and a nefarious lawyer tries to score some blow for an "important" event. The passengers and inhabitants of the ferry terminal are acting as extras, roaming around, drinking coffee, reading the paper, and trying desperately to ignore the 150 people staring at this secret drama in front of them.
Some tough characters walk right in front of our group - they are glaring at us, their eyes speaking volumes. As the story and sound (an undulating soundtrack of extended tones) frames our view of the station the anxiety level starts inching up. Although I know I am safe, I can't help but think that every ferry passenger who stops to take something out of a backpack is going to turn a gun on us, we are after-all on their turf. I keep thinking the actors might be in danger, or that someone might walk up to them and interrupt their scene with questions. In the end the two friends are left on their own - appropriately casting out the drug hungry lawyer and his manipulative shrew of a co-worker, the next ferry docks and another few hundred people stumble on us applauding the actors whom have lined up before us to take their bow. Pigeons fly through the station cutting through the scene which is both poetic and strange.
When I re-connect with my co-workers a few of us shed tears not sure why we are crying. Perhaps the show was about how the love between friends defines character more than how we make our money, or perhaps it was how small dramas are unfolding in front of us all the time, or perhaps it was about paying attention to our role in the world, where we stand- how we act amongst others and who we value. In the end it does not matter. We have been profoundly touched by this show and the multiplicity of meaning presented to us.
Kristan Kennedy, PICA
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