October 26, 2006

The Devil and Billy Markham

(or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let Satan Save My Soul)
By Justin Quinn Pelegano

True story: Satan is coming to SoHo. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll run and pay your respects to the Big Guy. Believe me, your loyalty will not go unrewarded. That’s right, Daddy Darkness is in a deal making kind of mood. Get this: He’s selling you – us -- one full hour of breathtaking, captivating, balls-to-the-wall, spark plug in your gut synergy, energy, alchemy…the man is offering up the finest theatre to hit this joint in a good long time. And all you have to do, dear minions, is show up, open up, and grab a brew. It’s all in the Amen, people. Preach on…

…not for nothing, but I’ve been seeing theatre in NYC for twenty-four of my twenty-nine years and, look, it doesn’t take a genius to realize that the stage, or any art for that matter, comes in all shapes and sizes. Ask any lifer and they’ll tell you there’s theatre that leaves you with a good case of the chats; theatre that leaves you with an even better case of the chills; and there’s theatre that just leaves you leaves you and fast (we call that “fluff”); there’s theatre that inspires you to create; theatre that alters you in some inexplicable, subtle, and unexpected way; and then there’s theatre that’s so god awful it makes you want to race out into the street and offer yourself up to the front bumper of a speeding truck (we call that “crap”…and/or “musicals”).

This past year I’d been way too privy to the last, and it was putting me off the entire medium. So much so, in fact, that I had basically sold my hopes to HBO. Yes, I turned my back on what had long lived in my blood – live performance – because every production I sat for, every show, every play that promised to be brave, in the end, settled for lazy and safe. What had once lifted me up was now pissing me off. Or worse, boring me to…zzzz. With both feet out, I worried I’d never return to the theatre. But I said good riddance anyway. And then The Devil and Billy Markham saved my soul.

I wasn’t exactly dragged to the tiny black box that is The Workshop Theater Company. I admit, there was a faint buzz going around this August. You have to see this! And the story behind the play helped compel me up off my ass. The Devil and Billy Markham: published as an epic poem in a 1979 issue of Playboy Magazine. Later refined into a solo one-act play. First produced on a double bill with Mamet’s “Bobby Gould in Hell” at Lincoln Center in 1989. Raunchy, jumpy, and very adult. Written by, get this, Shel “Giving Tree at the Sidewalk End” Silverstein. To be honest, they had me at Playboy. I bailed on my boycott and made a night of it with fingers crossed and expectations neutral.

Thank ya, Jesus! Uh, I mean, Mephisto. I sat in awe for sixty of the most thrilling minutes of theatre I’d ever bared witness to. Swear to Satan, you could have jabbed a pitchfork through my cheek and it wouldn’t have distracted me from the electricity up on stage. And I have director Thomas Cote and the peerless performance of Brit Herring to thank for that (the show, not the pitchfork). I refuse to ruin the story of The Devil and his back alley barroom deals by trying to describe it here. Just know that Silverstein’s rock-a-blues yarn is a gift of dark humor, sexuality, and deep fried desperation. And with Cote and Herring translating it to the stage, Billy Markham is nothing short of revelatory. Herring breathes fire from start to finish and is so all-out committed it makes you wish every working actor could and would borrow his courage, if even for one performance.

“Before I went out there opening night, I had the flop sweats, “ Herring admits. “[Billy Markham] is by far the scariest and most challenging thing I’ve ever done. I was petrified.”

Amen! That’s exactly what I’m talking about and exactly what I’d been missing. Show me an artist willing to put it all on the line and you’re showing me theatre that cannot be ignored. And while Billy Markham is set up structurally for a one-man tour de force, it is by no means – to borrow a phrase from Herring – “actor gymnastics”. Under Cote’s direction the show is seamless. Organic. Putting yourself in the presence of this wickedly entertaining tale means giving yourself over to the full-on ride. There’s nothing half-hearted about it.

No doubt that’s why The Devil and Billy Markham got picked up by the SoHo Playhouse for an extended run this Fall. It’s a good long way to come for a show that began in a closet-sized rehearsal room; for a show with a necessarily compact production schedule. It’s a long way to come for Brit Herring who found theatre at age five (watching his mother choreograph drama at U. Texas) and has been working it hard ever since. It’s the hunger to send something rare out into the world – damned be the obstacles – that makes this production great. And I don’t use the word lightly.

“I had no idea what people would think,” says Cote. “I just knew we had something.”

There’s far too much talent here for me to believe it was all just a roll of the dice, but I take the point. Mounting a play that speaks to you, and through you, is always a gamble. Not all passion translates to an audience. But the boys behind Billy Markham pull it off. They cast one hell of a spell that doesn’t ease off until blackout. They restored my faith in the power of theatre.

So listen, the Devil’s got a deal for you: He’s selling you one full hour of breathtaking, captivating, balls-to-the-wall, spark plug in your gut synergy, energy, alchemy…the man is offering up the finest theatre to hit this joint in a good long time. And all you have to do is show up and play. Game on.

The Devil and Billy Markham is at The Huron Club @ The SoHo Playhouse
15 Van Dam (3 blocks south of Houston, between 6th Ave. and Varick)
Fridays and Saturdays only, October 27 through December 19
For tickets and reservations call 212-691-1555 or visit sohoplayhouse.com

Online | www.devilandbilly.com

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