The Flick is set in a small cinema in Worcester,
Massachusetts, with three complex characters in low-paying jobs: two male ushers
and a woman with green hair who runs the reel-to-reel projection booth. The new
usher Avery (Kyle Beltran) is black, sensitive, a student and cinephile living with a father who teaches at Clark
University. Rose (Nicole Rodenburg), the projectionist, shares an apartment, is in default on
college debt, and rarely makes eye contact. Maybe it’s the script or the director’s
fault, but Rose remains an island even when she comes on to one of
her co-workers.
The usher Sam, age thirty-five, lives at home and is the unselfconscious type who stands with his mouth open while he thinks. Sam, too, is a cinephile, who believes Avatar was a great movie. Danny Wolohan is courageously real and stunning in the role, even as he wrings out the mop in a bucket and scrubs the floor. What a sensational actor.
The usher Sam, age thirty-five, lives at home and is the unselfconscious type who stands with his mouth open while he thinks. Sam, too, is a cinephile, who believes Avatar was a great movie. Danny Wolohan is courageously real and stunning in the role, even as he wrings out the mop in a bucket and scrubs the floor. What a sensational actor.
The well-lit set is perfect, with worn pink seats, ugly gold
and brown walls, and stained, white pebbled ceiling panels. It is ambitious in
this era of speed to do a long-format play, and Annie Baker’s creative risk
lead to a deserved Pulitzer Prize. At three hours with intermission, The
Flick is longer than a movie. Baker tortures her audience a bit with the frequent
sweeping up of popcorn off the floor, and the scaly rash on one of her
characters’ neck and back, and the many real-time pauses. Darkness contrasts with
light-hearted music from François Truffaut’s
Jules and Jim.
The meatball slider at the Little Owl |
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