Here's an interesting live event that integrates film and stage. Film reviewers have commented that certain productions create characters so real that they climb right out of the screen. Well L. Birch literally does. In the film - bearded, on the stage - bald and uniquely lit, Birch seeks desperately to free his love who is being held captive on some sandy shoreline in the images on screen.

The screen flickers in 1920's silent film style, highly-contrasted, black and white. However, the shaky camera and often jump-cut sequences, make getting used to the production as rocky as the beach. Fortunately, in their tribute to silent films, the producers include a loving humor and we as the audience are able to laugh a little at these quirky characters amidst the seriousness of love lost. Ultimately, we're captured by the charm.

No words are ever spoken, but printed across the screen, again in silent movie style. In the place of verbiage, music more than rises to the task of entertaining our ears. A moody expressive piano begins and then is joined by a sweet section of strings. It's a beautiful composition and the theatre realizes it with a fine sound system. Eventually, the tracks become varied with bits of songs and more new-age sounds. (I was disappointed to find no credit information for music composition.)

Writer/Director Randy Sean Schulman explores various ways for his character (Birch) to interact with the stage and screen intermittently. At first, it's exciting, eerily surreal, but as the production continues, becomes less so. He uses a sort of slow modern dance and his apt face to express feelings of love, common to all of us. He's quite endearing. We root for him. But in the end, unless I've missed something (and I certainly may have), I'm left wondering what greater message has been displayed here.

That said, let me praise the cleverness. I adored the idea of using more than one projector, sometimes casting shadows, sometimes not, this added to the eerie feel. Also, Birch's "helmet" and arm apparatus are gorgeous inventions of light and wire. And then, in the midst of this intriguing head adornment, if we look close enough, we see a small wheel, an old 8mm-film reel, slowly turning behind a magnified light. Beautiful, brilliant, an echo of the film motif, perhaps a hint at the idea that what we think or see is just ourselves projecting. (Or am I over psychoanalyzing?)

Oh, and great brochure art by Shaun Barrios.

-- Books by Author/Illustrator Ross Anthony --