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'Bette and Boo' marital bliss?
By Julia Dahl
It's difficult to communicate when you're completely insane--especially if you
live in Christopher Durangland. Everybody's talking and nobody's listening and
then you die. Such is the case in The Marriage of Bette and Boo, playing
this weekend at the Yale Cabaret. In the grand tradition of 'Dentity
Crisis, Durang gives us the uncut, unpolished, uncensored life of two
families who make the Bundys look functional.
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| PATRICK MCGARVEY/YH |
| 'The Marriage of Bette and Boo' at the Cabaret |
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The play begins with the marriage of Bette (Brooks Ann Camper, DRA '98) and
Boo (Sean Libby, DRA '00). The "I do's" are exchanged in front of both
families, and Bette and Boo leave for their honeymoon. Soon afterward, Bette
becomes pregnant, and, like all expectant mothers, she muses over possible
names for her baby. Bette settles on Skippy, after her favorite movie,
Winnie the Pooh, and decides that all subsequent children will also have
Pooh Corner-inspired names: Tigger, Eeyore, and Pooh. Trouble is, Bette's
babies keep dying.
Each time Bette is about to give birth, both families gather at the hospital,
poised and ready with hand-puppets and squeaky dolls; then the doctor enters,
throws the baby to the ground and pronounces it dead. All this upsets Bette
greatly, so she tries again, and again, and again to have more children.
Meanwhile, Bette's infantile sister Emily (played wittily by Claudia Arenas,
DRA '99) is institutionalized and her husband Boo takes to the bottle.
The play revolves around Bette, who traipses around the theatre in her wedding
dress and black platform heels. She is a woman desperately in need of love, yet
completely unable to cope with the realities of marriage. As Bette, Camper
carries each scene in which she appears and grapples almost effortlessly with
an amazing range of emotions. Her face never lies and her energy is completely
electric throughout.
Libby's Boo is the only nearly sane character, so it's no wonder he turns to
drink. Bette brings him again and again to a priest, insisting that he sign a
contract promising to give up drinking. Yet with the babies dying left and
right and the parents into S&M, he falls off the wagon every time.
The weakest characters in the show are Bette and Boo's parents. All are
"wacky," but in a terribly, mundane way. The one exception is Bette's father,
Paul, who mumbles incessantly as if he had marbles in his mouth, but even this
is little more than a cheap gimmick and becomes tedious. Although overdone,
Paul's handicap does suggest Durang's theme of the impossibility of human
communication. Bette and Boo just can't seem to get it together.
"I'm tired of feeling alone talking to you!" Bette cries just before she
decides to divorce him. There's so much going on inside everyone's minds that
they can't see what's going on around them. In one particularly entertaining
scene, Bette's family comes to the house for Thanksgiving dinner and Emily
spills gravy on the carpet. Boo tries to vaccum the mess as Bette screams and
screams. "I just want to get it through his head that you don't vaccum gravy!"
she whines, tired of fighting.
Two performances worth mentioning are Eve Cuadrado, GRD '03, as Bette's
cynical sister Joanie and Mark Novm, DRA '00, as Bette's son. Cuadrado's role
is small and confined mostly to put-downs and come-backs, yet she shines and
picks up more than her share of laughs. Novom, however is so uncomfortable on
stage that I almost felt sorry for him.
Director Mahayana Landowne, DRA '98, makes beautiful use of the Cabaret space,
though I often felt as though I was attending an indoor tennis match as the
players shuffled back and forth between sides of the performance space.
If Durang is anything, he is consistent. The show maintained interest and
energy throughout and the audience seemed genuinely amused.
Back to A&E...
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