'Cowboy' rides nowhere

As the legend goes, one long hallucinatory night Sam Shepard and Patti Smith sat down at a typewriter and banged out a pseudo-biographical play, calling it Cowboy Mouth. It emerged to the light of day in the experimental theater world of the early '70s, with little discernable plot and what might be termed a general level of incoherence. Not much has changed in the past 30 years.

REBECCA ROSENTHAL/YH 'I'm a cowboy. Pit it in your mouth.'

Now, there's much to be said for experimental theater—the destruction of boundaries, dialogue-like poetry, and beautiful imagery are among its many attributes, and at times, Ryan Iverson's, SY '02, production carries this mantle well. When, in the course of the show, it's announced that a star has "gotta be like a rock-and-roll Jesus with a cowboy mouth" one can't be quite sure what is meant, yet knows the statement is powerfully accurate. Sadly, the script itself doesn't hold together nearly as well as its individual, poetic lines.

The play centers on Slim (Ben Woodlock, ES '02) who has been lured into a seedy motel room by Cavale (Allysha Powanda, CC '03) with a promise of rock-and-roll stardom that has yet to materialize. At times Slim wants to leave, at times he wants to stay, at times he wants her to tell him story after story, delving deeper into her fantasy world. At times he wants to have sex. It's an exhaltation of rock and roll, lobster, and dead crows. Other than that, coherent summary is hard to come by, with the play instead choosing to work as a highly symbolic springboard for large thematic questions.

That's too bad, considering that it is in moments of visceral anger or elation that the show works best—in other words, moments in the extreme. Woodlock's energy, be it physical or verbal, is commanding, and Powanda's frenzy works well in counterpoint. As they crawl, roll, drag or throw themselves around the set one is riveted by pure dynamism—riveted by a moment seized.

But there are many quieter moments to the play, and in these it begins to feel dated and incoherent. Most of the time, there just isn't enough to hold onto. Cavale's frequent tender musings for a dead pet crow are distancing. Repeated fights and abrupt, barely explained changes in temper become unnerving.

It's unfortunate, because the set is phenomenal—the very essence of a ratty, old motel room. Its trash piles and dirty, unkempt bed seem absolutely authentic. And both Woodlock and Powanda have dynamic physical presences—a necessity in this show.

A fantastic entrance, near the end of the play, of a third character—the Lobster Man (Dave Croke, ES '02)—brings in a wealth of new energy. Though he utters only a few short unintelligible lines, Croke manages to be mesmerizing. Sadly, the same can not be said for Cowboy Mouth itself.

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