Kitchen Dog’s Radiant Vermin enervating, sharp satire

Jill and Ollie are are a sweet, congenial young couple, with a baby. They introduce themselves to the audience, confessing they have done terrible things. They certainly don’t seem nefarious. They have been living in a dangerous part of town, where the crime rate is high, and everything’s in ill repair. They receive a letter offering a free home and cannot believe it’s on the level. Then, Miss Dee, a very purposeful (though convivial) woman appears at their doorstep. She is wielding a contract, and gives them all the details. She seems to know all about Ollie and Jill. Miss Dee explains that Jill has such impeccable taste, they are willing to give them a brand new home, if she will decorate it, for promotional purposes. Jill is over the moon, but Ollie is skeptical. Jill pleads on behalf of their unborn child, saying that they must keep him safe. They both sign.

What follows next is a bizarre, intriguing parable about the nature of altruism, upward mobility and caring for the indigent. Playwright Philip Ridley has conceived a cunning trap, by using a charming, adorable couple like Ollie and Jill. They are eminently likable and guileless. Perhaps they even are us. Set Designer Clare Floyd DeVries has built an entirely white, generic set, with a row of small identical houses. All the better to blur any distinction between the dark heroes and ourselves. We accompany this friendly, struggling couple as they slowly, almost innocuously descend the ladder into atrocity. Whenever Ollie seems to waver, Jill uses the welfare of the baby for leverage. Like the family in D.H. Lawrence’s The Rocking-Horse Winner, no matter how much opulence they attain, it’s never enough. Unlike Jill and Ollie, we can see their souls are in jeopardy, long before they can.

Like the best theatrical narratives, Radiant Vermin, slyly makes its point, but not in so many words. Jill and Ollie appear as angels of light, but even when they beg for understanding, we know that ship has sailed. Like Miss Dee, Philip Ridley can be very persuasive. He may overplay his hand a bit, at the very end, but nothing can diminish this subversive, intense allegory of empty values, the bourgeoisie and the rapacious impetus of acquisition. Like the witch who lives in the forest, Ridley feeds Jill and Ollie loads of candy from his delectable gingerbread house, until they are queasy, but hooked.

Jake Buchanan and Kristen Lazerchick are nothing less than remarkable, in their performances in Radiant Vermin. Ridley has written two demanding roles, in which they must pantomime, quibble, panic, and take on all the other roles, except for Kateri Cale, who plays Miss Dee. The garden party, with its multiple personae, and rhythmic anaphora, is an exercise in poise, chaos and hilarity. Ms. Cale brings an unnerving vivacity to Miss Dee, the deceptive real estate maven. She smiles like a Cheshire Cat, and brings new meaning to disingenuousness.

Kitchen Dog Theater presents: Radiant Vermin, playing October 4th-28th, 1918. 2600 North Stemmons Freeway, Suite 180, Dallas, Texas 75207. (214) 953-1055. admin@kitchendogtheater.org

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