This ran in the now defunct Houston’s Other. It’s a wild artifact to consider, but I’m posting it here and now because Wayne noted the play itself was TWENTY SEVEN YEARS AGO, and that seems impossible. Time, man. It’ll get ya.

(also, n.b. that my snark about Marie & Bruce eventually led to a rather deep relationship with IBP. Life’s funny.)

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DATE: 5/14/99

Play: La Turista by Sam Shepard at the Atomic Cafe

Directed by Wayne Wilden

The Atomic Cafe continues to please me, and not just because there’s an Elvis shrine in the ladies’ room. No, really; my date assures me it’s quite a sight. Last Friday night, my companion and I found ourselves tempted by good TexMex and bizarre theater in the warehouse district once again.

This time around, the resident company tackles Sam Shepard’s La Turista, under the direction of Atomic Cafe proprietor Wayne Wilden. This almost surreal piece centers on a couple (Salem and Kent, played by Cafe regulars Michelle Edwards and Daniel Treadway) gone walkabout in nebulous portions of Mexico and the southwest. Though an early Shepard piece (he was 23), it feels fresh rather than naive. A strong script makes this one look simple, but the wrong actors could easily make a mess of the oddball monologues that pepper the dialog. No such problems surface here. The principals are as solid as can be. The playbill notes Edwards’ continued presence (“does she ever leave?”) but her turn here is some of her best and funniest work. Treadway, too, is predictably solid and quirky – his main moments in the first act are hilarious monologues, first in skivvies and later dressed as a cowboy; his second act final sequence makes the most of his physical talents, evoking a sort of Lyle-Lovett-with-amphetamine-psychosis feel.

The first act finds our heroes in Mexico, where they suffer from both sunburn and, inevitably, the eponymous intestinal malady La Turista. While frantically seeking relief for burn or bum, their room is unceremoniously invaded by a native shoeshine boy (Chris Joslin) who, in true interloper fashion, turns the action on its head. Joslin, also a veteran of Cafe performances, shines in a role that could easily overtake a less experienced hand. And I’m not just saying this because his parents were sitting behind me. His stage presence is unmistakable, though in this show he could have used a bit of direction to keep from going over the top in a place or two.

Joslin’s entrance prompts Kent and Salem to dive for the covers in an attempt to hide from the filthy native youngster. (They are, at this point, clad only in underwear, so I suppose it makes a bit of sense). The site of Edwards’ hand emerging from her bedspread furiously waving cash whilst Treadway wonders “is he gone yet?” from beneath his own blanket is a fantastically and hilariously absurd image. With their fear, Shepard is clearly having some fun at the expense of middle class tourism, but it’s fun to watch.

Eventually, Kent succumbs to his twin maladies and collapses on the bed – only to be hilariously tended by a witchdoctor (Stephen Barnett) in a sequence narrated by Joslin, who temporarily transforms himself into a high-strung Aussie naturalist commentator a la the Discovery Channel. Joslin tends toward the frenetic in this sequence, which could be toned down a bit without suffering, but it’s still funny as hell.

The first act is largely punctuated by the aforementioned bizarre monologues. The subjects vary, from modern life to witchdoctors and beyond. In the first act, these are largely delivered by Edwards or Joslin, and never failed to produce cackles from my companion and I. In particular, an early riff by Treadway’s character on fourth degree sunburn morphs into a sultry dance in center stage as both Salem and Kent writhe half-naked in the grips of their sunburn.

The second act is stranger, and that’s a good thing. Our wandering couple find themselves back in the U.S., in a similarly shabby southwestern motel room. Kent has fallen ill with some mysterious sleeping sickness, and Barnett returns to the stage as a long, tall, Texas-style country doctor. Accompanying him is his boy, Joslin. As they minister to Treadway – and frighten Salem in the process, as they may or may not have cut the phone wires on the way in – the situation becomes simultaneously more surreal and more dangerous. Treadway’s character endures a number of bizarre circumstances through this sequence, including a pacing therapy undertaken while the doctor naps. Treadway stumbling across the stage, supported on either side by Edwards and Joslin, becomes a beautiful physical comedy vehicle. His stage fall, a bit later, provoked nothing short of howls. To be honest, however, that is only the beginning to the high weirdness to follow.

To explore the second act too far would be unfair to both potential audience members and the company, so I shan’t go further. I intend for you to see this show. Even on opening night, this cast was tight and solid, and Shepard’s script is dead-bang funny. Frankly, in my experience with the Cafe, anything featuring Edwards, Treadway, or Joslin is likely to be worth your time (the recent Marie and Bruce notwithstanding) – but this show makes my short “would see again” list. Don’t miss it.