Mike Mariano

Like tens of thousands of Americans, I spent Monday night watching two hours and forty-five minutes of robots!

Wait, not those robots. I saw Mac Rogers and his Universal Robots!

Mac’s new play (which he generously invited me to) is a loose adaptation of Karel Capek’s R.U.R. (Rossum’s Universal Robots) that mixes Capek, his contemporaries, and real-life Twentieth Century history into the narrative. Mac is at the top of his game here; the play deftly handles issues of faith and prayer, robot ethics, and the first stirrings of the second World War. Hitler’s Germany essentially killed the real life Capek. Mac’s play has robots fighting Nazis!

This is a truly epic play performed by a dedicated, wonderful cast. Mac’s previous play Hail Satan (soon to return at the Fringe Festival in August) had a truly stunning close to its first act, changing all expectations for the second. Universal Robots has a multitude of these moments, growing the end of the human race out of breezy talk in a small Prague bar. It works so, so well. I’m really glad I saw it.

Note: Mac’s Universal Robots is not to be confused with a live radio presentation by the same name (and some of the same concepts), currently at Ontological-Hysteric. It is also not to be confused with the Universal Robot Band, creators of one of my favorite disco songs, “Barely Breaking Even.” I’ve got to get some for myself.

Second Stage Theatre made the mistake of handing out gel bracelets prior to their Monday performance of Sarah Ruhl’s Eurydice. (Verdict: too Yalie!)

Why was it a mistake? Is it wrong to support “Living American Playwrights”?

No. It was wrong to give me the opportunity to twist and snap a piece of plastic against my wrist for ninety minutes. I’m such a child!

Let’s hope they don’t leave any bubble wrap near my seat during Coast of Utopia….

I attended a performance of Marisa Wegrzyn’s The Butcher of Baraboo this evening. The verdict? I’ll quote the raving, rabid Wegrzyn fans sitting to my left. “I love Killing Women! She’s not naturalistic! She’s just not! Why make it naturalistic?!”

But the production’s sins weren’t all director Ivey’s. My pet peeve: there was far less bloodshed on the stage than in the audience. As always, the audience was primarily the elderly (though a youthful couple in front of me had a combined age far younger than any of the moldy rock music played throughout). And Second Stage Uptown’s McGinn/Cazale Theatre, with its steep, railing-free stairs and compact seats, is hardly the friendliest place for the aged.

During intermission, these results played out like the Stations of the Cross, with senior patrons stumbling and wiping out on their way to the bathrooms. It was painful to watch. Someday soon my own body will give up on me. Please let Scotty beam me to my seats by then.

Bonus Morbidity: This theatre is named after John Cazale, better known to film fans as Fredo Corleone! Cazale died a horrible, painful, and young death from bone cancer. So cheer up, septuagenarians! You may be wiping out in his theatre, but at least you outlived Fredo!