Adolescent "Fun" and games at the Cabaret

What do you do on a typical Thursday night? In the world of Denny (Scott Reeves, DRA '97) and Casper (Joe Reynolds, DRA '97), not much. Fun, playing this weekend at the Yale Cabaret, gives us a glimpse into one night in the pointless life of two hormonally-charged, excitement-seeking, and tragically bored teenage guys. In doing so, it attempts to explain how bored adolescent suburbanites get sucked into the pattern of alcohol, drugs, and violence.

The night begins as typical weekday nights do, with Denny seeking out Casper at home, to "just hang." Their skater-grunge conversations are so painfully accurate you wonder if you've just been sucked back into junior high. Amidst unbearable boredom, they seek out--surprise, surprise--girls. They're teenage guys, after all. And where else can suburbanites go but the world of Muzak, plastic benches, and fake rubber plants terrifyingly known as "The Mall." There, Denny and Casper are so bored, they must conjure scenarios of video-game-like violence, pumping themselves full of bullets as they shoot at imaginary guards. These creative fun and games provide a glimpse at personalities that will grow more violent when the boredom becomes unbearable.

A light romantic interlude is provided for in this relatively desolate play; where else but at the local Bob's Big Boy with the oh-so-cute Mary Tyler Moore waitress. It is here where we most acutely sense the youthfulness of these characters, as Denny and Casper exchange typical guy-chat. The nervous giddiness of a guy wanting to ask a girl out is so palpable you want to yell, "Just ask her, you dolt!" It's hilariously entertaining, but the Bob's Big Boy scene seems to be misplaced in an otherwise cohesive show. The plot moves along logically despite this somewhat random point of romantic tension, and the scene does add substance to the characters, as difficult as that can be in a Bob's Big Boy.

The plot begins to follow a darker path when Denny first attempts to score drugs for himself and his friend. Denny attempts to score from the movie theater ticket-taker, who he thinks owes him a favor. When they go to the designated spot nobody is there. The party is over. Instead, they find Absolut Vodka, and a sad alcoholic named Larry, who promises to buy them sex. Denny is psyched, and meanwhile Casper follows Denny's lead half-heartedly, not quite wanting to participate, but not wanting to seem like a wuss.

What follows is a predictable drunk driving accident that is de-emphasized enough to avoid preachiness. Unlike a CBS afterschool special, the scene is so neutral that it allows the event to stand on its own without any obvious moral analysis. Their search for drugs leads them to alcohol, prostitutes, and violence. In the end, Denny's rage comes to an unspectacular climax--an anticlimax, actually, for a tragic character with a pointless life.

Reeves as Denny evokes the seeds of aggressive violence planted in a witty, hard-edged teenager who seems to have a good heart. Denny possesses a hilarious sarcasm and wit that seems to be a defense to deeper pain. We know only that his family fits the tragic archetype of alcoholism and dysfunction. As with the drunk driving incident, the issue is wisely avoided to keep from becoming cheesy, trite, and cliché. Neither is it used as an excuse for the violent rage that seethes out of Denny. As the suburban dream turns from boredom to violence, Denny has no plans, no hopes, and no vision for the future. He lives for the present, and finds he can't even have that. He wants to do something--anything, as long as it's more than what he is doing now.

Reynolds's Casper is more of the dopey sidekick; the Sancho Panza to Reeves' Don Quixote. As a supplement to Denny's role, Casper thinks ahead: he considers going to trade school or joining the military. Suppressing many of his own feelings, he reluctantly goes along with Denny's escapades, knowing they're wrong but feeling an allegiance to his friend. He is the naive and innocent standby, who is either too dumb to realize the tension in a situation, or smart enough to diffuse it. In a way, he's a voice of moral reason, too meek and passive to stand up for it. He doesn't want the drugs, he doesn't want the alcohol, he doesn't even really want the sex. He just wants to jack off, and for him that'll be a fun night.

The play crams 10 scenes into an hour and moves quickly, not at a hurried pace, but in a realistic rhythm that doesn't linger too long when a point has been made. The sets and costumes, like the writing, are sprinkled with bits of exaggerated realism so as to make them immediately accessible. Special credit should be given to the production's excellent sound design. Ranging from awful mall Muzak to rockin' Bruce Springsteen, the audio aspect of the show successfully depicted the mood of both the scenes and the characters.

On the whole, Fun provides a sad glimpse into lives of adolescent boredom and serves as a warning of where it can lead. In the spirit of Trainspotting and Kids, minus the violence, gore, and shock, it attempts to dissect the path to drugs and violence and the effects of adolescent indifference.