The happening was an indiscernible event that even survivors of the “Love Generation” found difficult to define; though they all claimed to recognize one when it “happened.”
The evening begins with a tableau, designed by Brittany Blouch and Diane Dwyer, of a small white table and chairs, blue and yellow cups and saucers atop the table, a leafy blue plant beside it and dangling from one of the chairs— and most importantly perhaps in establishing the man’s suffering through the blood of humanity’s martyrs — a red coat.
Upstage of this is its dark mirrored reflection, a recreation of the smaller tableau but in the dismal grimy gloom of a colorless shadow, darkening the murky shade of a very black blackness.
Kinsherf’s Coat is elusive – an enigma fashioned as a rounded Rubik’s cube hid in Donald Trump’s tax returns, wrapped with bright blue brown wrapping paper, baked in a recipe-less lasagna, hid within a box of Cracker Jacks, then buried in the unsounded depth of Kim Kardashian’s cleavage.
Freud ascertained the theme of Kinsherf’s Coat as supporting the Biblical adage “All suffering painth.” (34:18 II Brook of Shield)
All great theatre asks great questions – Should Hamlet avenge his father? What the hell is keeping that asshole Godot? Paper or plastic? Who is afraid of Virginia Woolf and what’s up with that bitch?
Kinsherf’s Coat strives to ask those eternal questions – What is life’s meaning? Why is there death? Who buys a fruit cake for a birthday gift? Those questions that have followed man’s long journey from the festering, fetid scum of the primordial swamp onto the Trump presidency – but I repeat myself.
With Kinsherf’s Coat we seek the penetrating perspective to plum the puzzling prism of the human persona of purloined pain and percolated passion. We cry aloud into the emptiness of our souls and all we hear is the echo of the Almighty’s aerocolpos, reducing us all to fate’s ingler.
Conceived by producer Brian Wallace and of course the legendary John Kinsherf; we are like Poe’s majestic bust of Pallas with the raven perched upon us.
And in the end we have nothing…nothing but bird crap in our coiffure.
The horror…. The horror.
For giving me the gift of a child’s laughter, then throttling it before my eyes a PLATINUM MEDAL.
♦ ♦ ♦
(NOTE: ** Not to be confused with M. Knight Shaveandahaircuttwobits’ silly thriller The Happening about homicidal ferns.)
Kinsherf’s Coat is a Fringe 2017 extension
June 29, 2017 @ 8:00 pm at
1078 Lillian Way in Hollywood
For Tickets and Additional Information:
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