"WAX & WAYNE," Local Infinities at National Pastime Theater
BY KELLY AIGLON
Local Infinities’ production of "Wax & Wayne," a visual theater piece in which characters use various forms of wax as a metaphor for creative identity, won raves at the Oerol Festival in Holland, where it played to consistently sold-out crowds. The show really befit the festival, as the Netherlands is historic ground for more experimental, site-specific spectacles. One can only hope that "Wax & Wayne," a production that’s both multilayered and abstract, will be embraced in the same way here.
Upon first entering the National Pastime Theater, which is decidedly more of a workshop-looking space than traditional theater, two of the performance’s key figures are poised in anticipatory stances. A painter, Charlie Levin (one half of the Local Infinities outfit), sits pensively in front of a glass canvas. The other, musician Tom Howe, waits near a hodgepodge of found objects --a bicycle wheel, plastic piping, an old record player -- that soon become amazing instrumental tools.
The other character in place before the story unfolds is Meghan Strell (the other half of Local Infinities), rightfully referred to as "Wax." Strell, poised statue-like, is encased in wax -- her only
accoutrements being a white headpiece and flimsy wrap-around skirt. Unflinching and strangely beautiful, Wax remains in position long enough for the audience to wonder if she is merely a well- crafted stage prop.
The story of "Wax & Wayne" plays out slowly, allowing the actors’ creative impulses to rise and fall in quiet rhythm. Levin gets to work on her see-through canvas using, of course, wax as her painting medium. She stops to pause and contemplate her work; it’s a piece of art that will morph many times during the 70-minute production. Howe, for his part, plays his "instruments" (think wine glasses with varying amounts of water) as methodically as if he were creating an irreversible soundtrack. And, in a way, he is.
A narrative begins when Larry Underwood ("Wayne") enters the scene. Wearing a lab coat and scurrying around the stage at a frenzied pace, Underwood appears to be playing the role of a madcap scientist. But what he’s trying to embody is relatively unimportant. Instead, it’s the relationship between Wax and Wayne --a give-and-take of power, emotion and, ultimately, mortality – that’s the real focus here.
As Wax slowly comes to life, she sheds her wax layers at random moments. (Strell’s movements each night and the room temperature undoubtedly contribute to the rate at which her white shell flakes off.) Wax becomes more human, experiencing the glory of touch, sight and taste. And Wayne, played with incredible aplomb by Underwood, does quite the opposite. Intrigued by the idea of becoming a stoic, non-thinking being, Wayne strips down and is eventually dipped in a 140-degree vat of wax.
The climactic moment falls a bit short as Wayne emerges with just one-fourth of his body encased in the white, sticky stuff. But this is not the fault of the actors or director John Musial. When you’re working with temperamental substances, like wax (or dirt, rope and light, all of which have been employed by Local Infinities in the past), the result is likely to vary every time. This is perhaps the biggest allure of "Wax & Wayne"; one can never fully predict what will play out, no matter how scripted the stage directions are.
Candles, used frequently in the production, blow out. Pieces of wax slough off from Strell’s character at untimely and intermittent paces. Levin, at work on her masterpiece, throws wax on her canvas -- and one could never guess how the drops are going to fall. Even Howe, making eerie and astounding music from the corner, leaves his melodic results up to chance (how can you truly know the aural result of blowing air through a six-foot pipe?).
These random, fleeting moments make "Wax & Wayne" crescendo and fall, much like the creative cycle it intends to comment on. In turn, there are equal doses of humor and shell-shocked drama. What we end up with, both physically and metaphorically, is balance. Wayne has become a rigid wax
figure, and Wax has become an animated human. And while Levin has created an awe-inspiring painting -- a multicolored canvas that the audience is just beginning to appreciate -- Howe’s music has stopped.•
Local Infinities’ production of "Wax & Wayne" runs through August 25 at National Pastime Theater, 4139 N. Broadway. Tickets: $15. Call 312-560-7051 or log onto www.localinfinities.com.
Contributing Critic Kelly Aiglon is the senior editor of "WHERE Chicago" magazine, for which she covers arts and entertainment. She also writes about theater for the "Chicago Tribune," "UR Chicago," "PerformInk" and "Footlights." Kelly can be reached at kellyaiglon@hotmail.com.
