"END OF THE WORLD PARTY" at Bailiwick Repertory
BY LUCIA MAURO
Early in Chuck Ranberg’s bittersweet comedy, "End of the World Party," Hunter – an old gin-loving gay man – quips to his younger friend and former lover Roger, "It took me this long to perfect superficial." One can argue that it takes the playwright about two hours to spin a tale of witty and wicked repartee that ultimately unravels into a bundle of shallow gay cliches. Popular off-Broadway, "End of the World Party" is receiving its Chicago premiere as part of Bailiwick Repertory’s "Pride 2002" series.
The plot is quite rudimentary. Six men – who really represent one-dimensional types (from the bon mot-popping Hunter and hunky predator Nick to Barbra Streisand-loving Travis and the neurotic Will who is addicted to anonymous sex) – gather at their rented Fire Island beach house the summer before the new millennium. The play’s bleak undercurrent is AIDS and how the epidemic has created an unnerving level of paranoia within the gay community – running counter to most of these characters’ desire to lead unfettered, non-monogamous lives or commit to long-term relationships without the specter of death hanging over their heads.
Ranberg’s theme couldn’t be farther removed from the realm of superficiality. But his predictable script, rife with embarrassing stereotypes and a giddily happy ending, undermines his more substantial message. In the play, Phil – a naïve and idealistic young guy from Minnesota who dreams of true love and marriage – serves as the catalyst for the elder Fire Island denizens’ nostalgic yearnings for an uninhibited pursuit of pleasure. Phil falls in love too easily and, in the show’s most touching line, ponders, "I wish I could put a condom on my heart."
Nick, the most muscular and promiscuous stud of the bunch, fervently rejects what he calls a newfound "hetero model" being adopted by gay men as a response to AIDS. This self-destructive workout god – whose alcohol-cocaine-sex addictions blur – also blames his dangerous tendencies on a dysfunctional home life. He spends much of the play using and abusing Chip – the youthful cherub-like beachcomber all the men lust after.
At the story’s core stands the newly aging Roger (but he’s only in his thirties), an actor-model in competition with Nick over Chip. His desperation over getting older sends him into an emotional tailspin – manifested in his idealization of Chip. When given a chance to speak, rather than just show his pecs, Chip doesn’t appear to have a single brain cell. Roger suggests taking him to Key West, where Ernest Hemingway lived, and Chip spacily replies that he didn’t know Hemingway was gay. Yet Chip complains that men are only interested in his body; and Roger wants to believe the two can cultivate a multidimensional relationship. As Hunter so acutely summarizes, Chip is like a gorgeous apartment with no furniture.
The other characters – or theatrical devices – are the touchy Travis, getting in touch with his spirituality following the death of his lover from AIDS; and the obsessive Will, who frequents the Meat Rack (a wooded area for anonymous sexual encounters) and nearly hyperventilates every time he gets a sore throat. Will fears he might be HIV-positive, but refuses to get tested. Framing the play is the tragically comedic one-man chorus, Hunter, a jaded alcoholic architect with a talent for witty barbs and banter.
Yet Hunter, while he’s been given some of the best lines, serves as little more than comic relief – and, furthermore, as a means for the playwright to draw attention to his own droll and clever humor (which wears thin after a while).
Director David Zak has assembled a generally believable but unbalanced cast. Patrick Rybarczyk provides the self-doubting Roger with the most depth that allows his vulnerability to emerge quite tenderly. Michael Hampton emanates fortifying energy as Travis.
Danne Taylor naturally prompts the most laughs as Hunter, yet his character gets stuck in a monotonous rut. John Franciso delivers an earnest but undeveloped portrayal of Phil. Cade Wenthe’s wiry Will remains at one hyper, almost goofily psychotic level. John Kahara does not transcend Chip’s boyish boy-toy perceptions. And Chris Kossen – who was no doubt cast for his sleek body-builder-in-the-making physique – strains to project as the jock strap-clad Nick. His attempts at an Italian accent are even more abysmal.
One of the more confusing parts of this production involves Nick’s overdose. A pantomimic aside leads us to believe he has died. So when he reappears at the end, it’s not immediately clear whether he’s an apparition or the real thing.
Unlike Terrence McNally’s more profound and sophisticated comedy, "Love! Valour! Compassion!," Ranberg’s "Party" fails to find that crucial middle ground between celebration and grief; rage and catharsis.•
"End of the World Party" runs through September 8 at Bailiwick Repertory, 1229 W. Belmont. Tickets: $20-$30. Call 773-883-1090 or log onto www.bailiwick.org.
