What’s that joke about Jackson Pollock—the punch line is whatever you say it is? Annie Dorsen’s cute but pointless Democracy in America sits in a similar ken. The “project” began last fall when the audience at Joe’s Pub was told they could pay whatever they like—a few dollars, a few thousand dollars—for words or phrases, design elements, personal or political messages, or absurd non-sequiturs to be interpolated into the script. In fact, whatever people paid for would be the script.
Dorsen, perhaps more familiar currently as the director of Broadway’s Passing Strange, admits in her program notes to being inspired by de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America, which more than 150 years after its initial publication can still offer powerful insights into the American psyche. Sent stateside by the French government to investigate how republican government was functioning, de Tocqueville was both puzzled and intrigued by how, even in spite of what Dorsen calls “the self-interested and competing actions of lots and lots of individuals,” a nation could manage to still cohere and thrive. Searching for a theatrical mode by which to address de Tocqueville’s query, Dorsen also launched buydemocracy.com, thus ensuring that anyone with a dollar and a dream could partake in a literal auctioning off of stage time and space.
Ideally, then, Democracy in America would have been a colorful democratic experiment, one with a capitalist hue. Practically, though, the work is derailed by the sheer arbitrariness of its disconnected pieces.
As an LED screen scrolls the moments people paid for and their prices (check your program, too, for it lists everything in order), actors Okwui Okpokwasili, Anthony Torn and Philippa Kaye play their “roles” with all the perfunctory and unimpassioned acquiescence of minimum-wage Wal-Mart workers. Preston D. wants a fart sound? Thanks for $5, pal. And thanks to you, Philip C., for $8 so the phrase “Parker Posey is the worst actress ever” could be heard. How sweet of Heidi R. to pay $75 so the name Claudine could be cooed 20 times; how equally sweet that Torn kisses Kaye’s arms between murmuring each one. And hey, Jason W.: thanks for shelling out $10 for 33 1/3 seconds of silence.
Remember when Le Parker Meridien charged $1,000 for a “zillion dollar omelet”? Well, John C., of perhaps more modest means, coughed up $100 for us to hear his parody of “Que Sera Sera”—“Que Suri Suri,” with paeans to Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes—out loud. And as for you, Gregory M., was it really worth paying $200 to have a tapioca-filled duck fall from the ceiling to the floor and explode? Don’t worry: It wasn’t as disturbing as Nathan P.’s request. For $5, he paid for “The word ‘nigger’ did not start will not end with Seinfeld’s Kramer…it started and it will end with one person only…you!!!” to be spoken. That’s the same amount Daniel S. paid for a plastic dinosaur to receive an onstage rim job.
Anyway, back to Dorsen’s program notes, for there’s something disingenuous about her claim to being uninterested in commenting on “the state of our nation, our culture or our politics.” For one thing, as not all the actions in the program were performed, we can assume there’s some selection process behind the work. Also, by featuring two Abu Ghraib images (one labeled “This is theater,” one labeled “This is not theater”), Dorsen validates Erika M.’s $100 expenditure and perhaps exposes a bit of her own ideas as well. That’s at least preferable to having none at all.
Through April 20. P.S. 122, 150 1st Ave. (at E. 9th St.), 212-352-3101; $20.
Dorsen, perhaps more familiar currently as the director of Broadway’s Passing Strange, admits in her program notes to being inspired by de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America, which more than 150 years after its initial publication can still offer powerful insights into the American psyche. Sent stateside by the French government to investigate how republican government was functioning, de Tocqueville was both puzzled and intrigued by how, even in spite of what Dorsen calls “the self-interested and competing actions of lots and lots of individuals,” a nation could manage to still cohere and thrive. Searching for a theatrical mode by which to address de Tocqueville’s query, Dorsen also launched buydemocracy.com, thus ensuring that anyone with a dollar and a dream could partake in a literal auctioning off of stage time and space.
Ideally, then, Democracy in America would have been a colorful democratic experiment, one with a capitalist hue. Practically, though, the work is derailed by the sheer arbitrariness of its disconnected pieces.
As an LED screen scrolls the moments people paid for and their prices (check your program, too, for it lists everything in order), actors Okwui Okpokwasili, Anthony Torn and Philippa Kaye play their “roles” with all the perfunctory and unimpassioned acquiescence of minimum-wage Wal-Mart workers. Preston D. wants a fart sound? Thanks for $5, pal. And thanks to you, Philip C., for $8 so the phrase “Parker Posey is the worst actress ever” could be heard. How sweet of Heidi R. to pay $75 so the name Claudine could be cooed 20 times; how equally sweet that Torn kisses Kaye’s arms between murmuring each one. And hey, Jason W.: thanks for shelling out $10 for 33 1/3 seconds of silence.
Remember when Le Parker Meridien charged $1,000 for a “zillion dollar omelet”? Well, John C., of perhaps more modest means, coughed up $100 for us to hear his parody of “Que Sera Sera”—“Que Suri Suri,” with paeans to Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes—out loud. And as for you, Gregory M., was it really worth paying $200 to have a tapioca-filled duck fall from the ceiling to the floor and explode? Don’t worry: It wasn’t as disturbing as Nathan P.’s request. For $5, he paid for “The word ‘nigger’ did not start will not end with Seinfeld’s Kramer…it started and it will end with one person only…you!!!” to be spoken. That’s the same amount Daniel S. paid for a plastic dinosaur to receive an onstage rim job.
Anyway, back to Dorsen’s program notes, for there’s something disingenuous about her claim to being uninterested in commenting on “the state of our nation, our culture or our politics.” For one thing, as not all the actions in the program were performed, we can assume there’s some selection process behind the work. Also, by featuring two Abu Ghraib images (one labeled “This is theater,” one labeled “This is not theater”), Dorsen validates Erika M.’s $100 expenditure and perhaps exposes a bit of her own ideas as well. That’s at least preferable to having none at all.
Through April 20. P.S. 122, 150 1st Ave. (at E. 9th St.), 212-352-3101; $20.
