A frozen treat with some hints of good humor

PATRICK MCGARVEY/YH The Iceman cometh, and he doeth little while he pontificateth much.

You work at an ice skating rink in Kitchener, Ontario. You've got the night shift, and you keep a log of the evening's events by speaking into a tape recorder. What is it you think about, sitting alone in a cold wooden shed, waiting for the temperature to drop so that you can flood the rink with a new layer of ice?

This inquiry is precisely the kind of dubiously profound question that this weekend's Cabaret show Minus 1 explores. Featuring Peter Novak, DRA '98, dean of Trumbull College, Minus 1 is an original one-man show written by Sunil Kuruvilla, DRA '99. The one-hour production takes us into the mind of Tom, who has been working at the rink for eight long years.

Tom is a lonely man, alternately poetic and simple, ruminating on everything from the color of warmth to the eight reasons why he likes his town. Through his verbal log entries, we learn Tom's thoughts on every subject from suicide to graffiti to women, catching glimpses of his life and his dreams in the process.

Director Rebecca Bayla Taichman, DRA '00, does a competent job with a play that might easily have slipped into pedantic theatrical tricks, ruining its potential power as a character study. Under her subtle guidance, Minus 1 is for the most part understated and deceptively simple. She establishes a consistent rhythm, alternating between long, meditative monologues and explosions of action and emotion.

The small rugged set (designed by David Swayze, DRA '00) and costumes (Aaron Bryant, DRA '99) act as perfect complements to the small, suggestive schematic
of the play. The shed, complete with a broken toaster oven, a hockey stick hung
over the door, and a single bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling, provides an
aptly disheveled backdrop for Tom's
extended monologues. The lighting by Marcus Doshi, DRA '00, is especially good, marking both emotional and physical moments with subtle clarity.

Novak plays the role of Tom admirably, with a familiarity that transcends an often sparse script. Simultaneously likable and pathetic, Novak's Tom rarely slips into caricature, He successfully portrays a Canadian character who is stereotypical neither in voice nor manner. Novak's practiced physical acting also demonstrates Tom's stiffness and his general sense of awkwardness, translating into a progressive slump as the hours tick by and Tom becomes more fatigued. His exhaustion is made palpable in the narrow confines of the Cabaret; we share both his malaise and his vision.

The play itself is a creative, if uninspired, exercise in absurdism. If there are moments when Tom does not appear completely consistent in his speech patterns, these are balanced by several genuinely poetic segments of the script. Tom is a thoughtful creature, and his observations on the small details of life inspire both laughter and quiet appreciation. Unseen fellow employee Abe provides a comic element, and Tom's repeated observations regarding his employer's girlfriend Lisa are both poignant and endearing, although they occasionally descend into cliché. The tape recorder is an effective device for fueling the play's action and makes a winking reference to the tape recorder in Beckett's Krapp's Last Tape, a staple of absurdist theater.

Tom spends his shift waiting for the temperature to drop. But the thermometer outside reads negative one degree Celsius and will not budge. At one point, Tom remarks, "Tomorrow will be better. It'll be colder." But the cold that Tom feels goes much deeper than the measure on a thermometer, and the numbness that provides an escape for his feelings is not sufficient to freeze his unfulfilled desires. A man who works at an ice rink but cannot skate, Tom is in many ways unable to experience all that he wants. His paralysis becomes an existential bleakness that is paradoxically inspiring in its lucidity.

Late in the play, Tom remarks that there are three things people can't help looking at: accidents, zits, and Zambonis. Regardless of the validity of the observation, an addition should be made. This weekend's production of Minus 1, while perhaps not as exhilarating as a six car pileup on the highway or as smooth as the ice behind a Zamboni, is certainly worth a look.

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