My overall impression
Tony Frankel, theatre critic for Stage and Cinema here. Had someone other than Michael Shaw Fisher directed his new play The Barking Pig, it may have been easier to ascertain if the script even has potential. Ultimately, Mr. Fisher can not be dismissed as a writer – in fact, his script barks with potential, but the direction lacks nuance and focus.
The idea is superb: seven unique characters (who just happen to congregate in a small town bar at the same time) receive a phone call from escaped convict Victor Helms, announcing his plans (via a creepy, piggy poem) that he is on his way to murder one of the patrons. While waiting for the porcine Godot, Fisher’s characters take us on an existential journey that is occasionally funny, but enigmatic and ulitmately annoying. There is a mish-mash of styles on hand – including horror, sci-fi, thriller, and theatre-of-the-absurd – that are all fascinating arenas to explore in a dusty old bar, but most of the acting is pushy, inauthentic, loud and belongs in a sketch comedy show, not a play. If we don’t believe them, how are we to believe the dialogue?
When the performing was professional, the play took on a much-needed air of seriousness. Teresa Wierzbianska, who played Izzy, picked up a guitar late into the proceedings and began to sing: it is a voice that literally makes one sit up and take notice; her voice is unique, dusky, strong, earthy and powerful – I advise anyone to remember her name. (Sadly, her acting chops are not as strong). J. Scott finally arrives as Victor, proving that a wonderful portrayal can make Fisher’s other-worldly dialogue more than palatable, it can be downright exciting. Frankly, Thom Vacca, who portrays the town Sherriff (known as “Constable” Terry Rutter) personifies why we wish The Barking Pig had ended much sooner: he has no INTERNAL life whatsoever, and does not make choices condusive to creating a character. (One line saying that the Constable is fat does not justify that big pillow stuffed into his shirt – Vacca didn’t even bother to physicalize the corpulence of his character.) The other actors vacillated between some interesting choices and vocal decibels higher than that of neophyte junior high actors.
This is a perfect show for a Fringe Festival: for very little financial investment, Mr. Fisher can rest assured that he has talent as a writer and a great idea to pursue. But he is neither a theatre director nor a casting director yet. This script needs to be taken more seriously – as do the entire proceedings. In fact, we are encouraged to take a swig of our own beverages (not included) every time someone on the stage says, “To Jake!”; this makes me wonder if Mr. Fisher wants to stay on the fringe, performing for innebriated college students. It is advised that he check-in with himself and hone his vision as an artist.
