For the first time in her life, Lisa has been the rejectee in a relationship, and she’s unfamiliar with the horrible sensations. She finds herself left without a sense of purpose. She decides to join the Crime Fighters and their hunt for Dr. X. While on patrol with Nina, she learns that Nina has an obsessive infatuation with Dr. X—one that may compromise her teammates and their vow to bring him to justice.
Lisa, however, won’t take no for an answer and goes to Peter, baring her feelings for him just as the Nurse has gotten the courage to ask him out. They sweep past her, giddily caught up in their renewed relationship, and Nurse is left to seek consolation in doughnuts. The relationship, however, is strained by her secret identity as a Crime Fighter and his obsession with his artificial heart. As they sleep, Dr. X attempts to make them his next pair of victims, but Lisa awakens and calls the Crime Fighters. They defeat Dr. X, but before they can take him in, he injects himself with poison. Peter leaps in and saves him through field surgery, giving him an artificial heart and saving Dr. X to face justice.
While in the hospital under guard, the Nurse enters, and we learn that she is the woman with “a face like a plate” who left him. He still loves her, but she rejects him yet again. When Nina takes her guard shift, Dr. X takes advantage of her infatuation with him and escapes, hiding in the hospital’s infrastructure. Meanwhile, Peter still insists on undergoing surgery to replace his own heart with an extra artificial heart that he developed, but before the surgery, Dr. X emerges from the ceiling and kidnaps him and performs the heart transplant that Peter has been wanting.
When Peter awakens after a successful surgery and sees Dr. X, he shouts for a nurse, and Nina enters. She and Dr. X recognize one another, and this time she attacks him without hesitation. The other Crime Fighters, including Lisa, are drawn to the fight, but their only hope is the Nurse. She’s the one person who can stop Dr. X. After a truly spectacular final fight, Dr. X is captured and imprisoned in a mental ward, and Peter and Lisa reunite and commit to trying to build a relationship. The play ends with Dr. X in a straightjacket shouting at them all from prison:
Remember how you looked at me that first time? The patient had died. Everyone will die. Until you come back to me, everyone will die. No one should have to feel like this. Why don’t you love me? Why? Why?!!! It’s nothing but suffering. Everyone should share it. No one should be happy. You hear me?!!! You hear me?!!!!!!
Once again I am in awe of Flux’s ability to pull together some of the best acting talents, creating a brilliant, tight ensemble. No one gave a throw-away performance (as can happen in some pieces), and the interplay between Crime Fighters Aja Houston, Rachel Hip-Flores, and Becky Byers created a quirky yet serious group of strong women. Marnie Schulenburg and Chinaza Uche, as Lisa and Peter, provided a solid center for the deeper aspects of Szymkowicz’s script by merging the humor with an engaging vulnerability.
There were, however, a few standouts—one being August Schulenburg as Dr. X. I’m used to writing about Schulenburg as an artistic director and playwright, but I had not seen him on stage. For once, I am at a loss for words. Schulenburg made Dr. X pitiable, creepy, hilarious, and well, . . . insane. I have to say my favorite moment, one which illustrated Schulenburg’s attention to detail, involved a “re-creation” of a crime. As the Crime Fighters stepped through the events at a crime scene, it was re-enacted for the audience. Dr. X stood at the window, syringe in hand, watching the lovers sleeping inside. Schulenburg kissed the syringe, licked it, then drew it down his body with an over-the-top sensuality, ending in a truly hilarious pelvic wiggle. It was deliciously sick—exactly what one would expect of Dr. X, yet something not every actor would uncover and portray.
Of course, I have to admit a fondness for the insanity that is Becky Byers (Dog Act, The Honeycomb Trilogy) on stage. Her portrayal of Nina, tough yet delightfully girly in her flouncy miniskirt, remained a subtle, engaging presence until she melded it with Schulenburg’s own special brand of over the top. The scene between the two finally giving in to a moment of debauchery in the hospital room was genius. Ratcheting the reactions between one another, the two managed to create the most entertaining (and delightfully wrong) love scene I’ve ever witnessed. Having their moment alone in the hospital room where Dr. X has been handcuffed to the bed after his capture and heart transplant, Nina gives in to her baser desires for the villain. Schulenburg and Byers trade off lines and physical proximity slowly, humorously, and edgily probing the characters’ desires—a little coyness here, a little BDSM there—until Dr. X handcuffs her to the bed and escapes.
Another standout performance came from Susan Louise O’Connor as the Nurse. O’Connor was brilliantly geeky and unsure, playing to the comedy inherent in the scene but never going too far unless necessary, as with the “Doughnut Intervention” (never get between a thwarted woman and her Krispy Kremes) after her rejection by Peter, and the rather spectacular jump-kick to take out former lover Dr. X. While her portrayal of the Nurse’s bizarre relationship to Dr. X and her comic infatuation with Peter certainly created well-deserved laughter, she did give the impression of a strong yet vulnerable woman who just couldn’t seem to catch a break.
Scenic designer Will Lowry kept the black box space simple with only a dark lattice of pipes and connectors overlaid with windows hung at the rear of the stage as a general backdrop. A few windows contained black and white photos of lovers lying together, Dr. X, and the Crime Fighters. Lowry innovatively painted the floor with abstracted building perspectives giving the impression of simultaneously looking up and down within a comic book interpretation of a cityscape. The set pieces denoting scene changes were likewise simple—a doorframe (apartments/hospital), a wheeled metal table (exam table/bed). All of this moved quickly and seamlessly, which kept the flow of action moving.
Stephanie Levin’s costume designs had a lovely ad-hoc quality that one might associate with self-made crime fighters, but these still coordinated with the overall feel of the production design: simple, pulpy, graphic. The superhero attire—part glamazon and part retro comics—was easily concealed with the simple nurse uniform of their alter-egos. The uncomplicated look of both set and costumes allowed the acting and script to stay in the forefront where it belonged.
Director Kelly O’Donnell and fight choreographer Adam Swiderski do several things right in Hearts Like Fists. First and foremost, with such talented actors, O’Donnell maintains a light touch, shepherding what I would imagine—given the actors involved—was an exercise in controlled mayhem. She and her cast did what I always appreciate on stage: they pushed character representation as far as possible within the bounds of Szymkowicz’s exceedingly insightful and amusing script. Swiderski, too, added a level of knock-down, drag-out, hand-to-hand combat.
What I appreciated as the best innovation was the use of what the program listed as “ensemble.” These two actor/crewmembers (Jennifer Somers Kipley and Chester Poon) were the special effects. In the tradition of bunraku stage techniques, the two dressed in black and assisted in making the costume and scene changes. However, rather than allowing them to disappear, they stepped in and out of the action, always present and noted but never a complete distraction. They filled in as stage extras, and in their campy cat burglar attire they added a certain panache to quick scene and costume changes, catching or tossing clothing as necessary. But, and here’s the part that delighted me and got my attention, they made Swiderski’s fight sequences amazing by adding the necessary pulp flair to the fights.
Swiderski’s choreography progressed beautifully in real time with kicks and punches exchanged, but at certain key points in the fight, the actors would switch in to slow motion, exaggerating the delivery of and reactions to the punches and making them delightfully comic bookish. As if that weren’t enough, he added a level of Hong Kong action film wire-work to the fights. The trusty ensemble members would come out and assist the fight participants with dance lifts. The use of the lifts with the slow motion affectation gave the fabulous
impression of ridiculously high and long kicks and spin kicks. At one point in the action, Dr. X throws two syringes in the hopes of killing both Lisa and Peter. Schulenburg’s slow wind up and throw was augmented as Kipley and Poon emerge from behind him, each taking a syringe and gracefully moving them toward the lovers who also slowly duck backwards, at which point the actions returns to speed. I can only say that the entire idea was sheer brilliance and an innovative, successful approach to representing conventions of the genre.
Aspects and manifestations of love as well as defenses against it find reference in the actions of the characters. The Crime Fighters, Peter, and Lisa all look to their careers as substitutes for love and protection against broken hearts. Rather than risk themselves in this respect, they pour themselves into what they do in order to give themselves purpose. Their fists/hearts are figuratively closed to fight against a sense of pain and loss. Dr. X embodies the more extreme end of the loss, yet as his one night stand with the Nurse illustrates, his “occupation” closes him off to any other possible relationships. He only wants her, and at least part of his loss derives from holding her too closely:
DOCTOR X: I’m going to hold you forever. Forever.
NURSE: You’re hurting me.
DOCTOR X: Shhh. Shhh.
NURSE: Ow.
DOCTOR X: You’ll learn to like it. I save people’s lives with these hands. These arms. You’ll learn to enjoy whatever they do.
NURSE: Oh. Ow. Oh.
DOCTOR X: I learned when I was young, if you want to keep something hold it tight and never let it go because if you don’t keep your things close, someone will come and take them away. I won’t let that happen to you now that I’ve found you.
His inability to keep an open hand and heart leads him to insanity because of his rejection. He loves the Nurse more than she loves him—for her, it’s a one night stand. Yet as painful as this is to him, he behaves the same way when Nina reveals her feelings for him. This time someone else cares more for him than he does for them. There is a continual shifting reciprocity between the actions of the characters, and it’s only when they learn how to open both heart and hands that they can move forward.
Granted, realistic personal relationships are not the fodder for the average comic book hero. The most notable exception would be Alan Moore’s Watchmen. Its exploration of heroes and their interpersonal relationships, particularly the triangle involving Dr. Manhattan, Silk Spectre, and Nite Owl, is the obvious precursor to Hearts Like Fists, focusing on the human beings behind the masks. On the other hand, Batman, in particular Arkham Asylum, gave us the psychological grounding for a supervillain’s criminal pathology. Utilizing these traditions, Szymkowicz has created a distinctly fun and yet very insightful examination of love and violence (albeit of the comic book variety) without becoming maudlin, overly metaphorical, or leaning too much on his artistic predecessors.
Our hearts are like our fists in another respect; we fight against having relationships, leaving relationships, and letting others go when it’s time. Thankfully, we don’t all turn into Dr. X, nor do we decide to become costumed vigilantes in an effort to repurpose ourselves and find meaning for our lives. That doesn’t mean, however, that it isn’t messy, complicated, and damn hard to figure out what to do or what to risk and when. Lisa has it right when she tells Peter, “We have to balance the joy now with the possibility of sorrow later.” No guarantees. But it’s really hard to prevent a fall or pull yourself back up when all you can make is a fist.
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Jen Gunnels lives in continuing reciprocity of theatrical delights.
The Crime Fighters: Nina (Becky Byers), Sally (Aja Houston), Nurse (Susan Louise O’Connor)
Jazmin (Rachael Hip-Flores), Sally (Aja Houston) & Nina (Becky Byers), striking a pose. Photos by Isaiah Tanenbaum.
Sally (Aja Houston), Nurse (Susan Louise O’Connor) & Peter (Chinaza Uche)
Nina in mortal combat with Dr. X (August Schulenburg)
Lisa (Marnie Schulenburg) & Nina (Becky Byers)
At the Mountains of Madness by H.P. Lovecraft, read by William Roberts
Redhill, Surrey: Naxos AudioBooks, 2012; $28.98, 4 CDs; 5:03:40
Dracula’s Guest and Other Stories by Bram Stoker, read by Rupert Degas
Redhill, Surrey: Naxos AudioBooks, 2012; $34.98, 5 CDs; 5:41:36
reviewed by Peter Rawlik
As part of their Classic Fiction line, Naxos AudioBooks presents several title of interest to fans of speculative fiction including Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues under the Sea, Oscar Wilde’s “The Canterville Ghost,” Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, H. G. Wells’s The Invisible Man, and even Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast trilogy. Of the genre, two selections may serve as barometers of the range and character of these productions. The first is an unabridged version of H. P. Lovecraft’s classic story of science and horror, At The Mountains of Madness, while the second is the posthumous collection by Bram Stoker, Dracula’s Guest and Other Stories.
Lovecraft’s long tale of an expedition to Antarctica and the alien horrors discovered there is read by William Roberts, an American actor born and raised in Oregon and California. While normally I would not concern myself with a person’s origin, in this case it is relevant. In his reading, Roberts projects an accent that to my ear makes him sound British, rather than of New England origin, creating something of a minor distraction—the narrator of the tale is definitely a Massachusetts native. Despite this, Roberts does an excellent job with the pacing of Lovecraft’s tale and is careful not to allow the various events to affect his reading. After all, the story is being told a significant amount of time after the original events by a scientist who is striving to convince his peers of something fantastic and terrifying that should be avoided. Thus, any deviation into hysterics or madness would be detrimental to his case. In this, Roberts and his producers should be given credit, for it would have been easy to take an entirely different route rather than preserving the more formal, well-controlled, almost passionless presentation of Lovecraft’s text.
The tale is a first-person narrative and thus lends itself well to the spoken word; indeed one can almost imagine the stodgy old Professor William Dyer desperately relating his story to some equally dour and doubting colleague. The recording is a simple reading with each of the twelve chapters announced by Roberts without music or any other type of audible notation, but once again this is very fitting to the story at hand.
In contrast to Roberts, Rupert Degas is a British actor who has a long history of doing voice work for video games and animation. Degas’s performance is more animated and emotional than Roberts’s, for he provides all of the speaking characters with their own distinct voices and mannerisms. This in itself is most impressive, for while the majority of Stoker’s characters are British, there are also Germans, a Texan, and a number of denizens of Paris of varying classes, all with appropriate accents. However, unlike the production of At The Mountains of Madness, the Stoker adaptation comprises the title work and eight shorter pieces, and without any music or other transitional note, it is sometimes difficult to immediately grasp that one story has ended and another has begun.
While Stoker is best known for Dracula, this collection of shorter pieces is relatively obscure. The longest piece, “Dracula’s Guest,” has been identified as an excised first chapter of the novel. In it, an unnamed Englishman on his way to Transylvania stops, against all advice, to explore an abandoned town near Munich. He experiences a series of improbable and supernatural events that culminate in his rescue by a detachment of soldiers dispatched for the sole purpose of saving him. That the soldiers have been sent following a communiqué from Dracula is only ominous given the events of the novel; on its own the tale is little more than a tease and somewhat unsatisfying.
The remaining eight stories, however, are more than satisfying. Many, particularly “The Squaw” and “The Burial of the Rats,” are effective at building suspense and terror without the use of any supernatural elements,
instead utilizing a genuine and palpable fear of feral cats and hordes of hungry rats. Rats also play a significant role, albeit a supernatural one, in “The Judge’s House,” which, while firmly rooted in the tradition of tales dealing with the vengeful spirits of evil men, is in places very similar to Lovecraft’s better known “The Rats in the Walls.” It would not surprise me if Lovecraft’s work had been influenced by this particular piece.
Despite some shortcomings that may be entirely a matter of personal taste, Naxos has produced superior works in a manner that complements the source material. Those interested in alternative presentations of classic works should be highly satisfied with these versions.
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Peter Rawlik lives in Royal Palm Beach, Florida.
Pariah by Dan Abnett
Nottingham: Black Library, 2012; £24.99 hc; 317 pages
reviewed by Alec Austin
Dan Abnett is the best military science fiction author working today.
NYRSF January 2013 Issue 293 Page 5