Curio Theatre Company presents Rachel Gluck's world premiere 'Antagonyms'

Andrew Carroll plays Jonny, an artist on the cusp of success yet still insecure. With his scraggly beard, ponytail, and general mopeyness, he’s a bit of a cliché. He's moving in with Mauve (Colleen Hughes), who interests his best friend Charlotte (Alexandra Spadoni) or, perhaps, incites her jealousy. Charlotte's a vivacious partier. When Mauve awkwardly reminds her they've met twice before, Charlotte blames her memory lapse on booze, her cure for the boredom of parties.

Enter Dorian (Alexander Scott Rioh), Mauve's sibling, absent for 15 years. His confidence and sexual aggressiveness threaten Jonny, disorient Mauve, and entice Charlotte. Buried secrets emerge.

Opposites repel

Rachel Gluck's first full-length play is certainly worthwhile. It’s smart and clever, funny in a verbally rich way, yet also full of meaty conversations about intense feelings and plausible situations, and drenched in smoldering sexual tension. The title, Antagonyms, isn't a word in Webster's but should be; it's an intriguing term for words with two opposite meanings. For example, the word "presently" can mean "now" and "later," as in "I am here presently" and "I will be there presently." It's a fascinating term for the contradictions in relationships, art, and life.

In Curio Theatre Company's black box space, intimacy is inevitable. Paul Kuhn creates two tight spaces: The bar's backroom and Charlotte's bedroom, very close to the audience. In fact, we enter through the set. Not surprisingly, given his extraordinary and underappreciated body of work at Curio, Kuhn's sets are both realistic and aesthetically successful, lit with noir color and shadow by Dom Chacon.

Too much of a dark thing

Director Jack Tamburri goes overboard with noir flourishes, however, apparently inspired by the script's references to Casablanca and each character's smoke breaks (and there are many), which he gives long operatic flourishes, but no actual smoke. Maybe that's dictated by the world we live in, where movies earn R ratings not only for extreme violence and nudity, but also for cigarettes. I really miss smoke on stage, how it interacts with light and affects actors' timing; faking it only highlights its absence.

Instead of glorious smoke tendrils snaking through streaky light, we get sound designer Liz Atkinson's heavy-handed noirish jazz and the actors' tediously choreographed poses, as well as some stagey tricks with entrances borrowed from a noir parody. The script doesn't support all this imposed business.

When the stakes rise, matters come to a dramatic boil, and stylized edge gives way to raw conflict, those scenes are curiously muted. In one major showdown between Charlotte and Dorian, he's blocked facing upstage, so we can't see him and he also hides her from much of the audience. Later, in the bar, Dorian hops onto a strange perch on a booth's back, where he awkwardly squats in shadow.

Fortunately, the performances in Antagonyms exceed their staging. Spadoni's Charlotte is a fascinating mess, alluring and mysterious yet vulnerable and needy, and costume designer Aetna Gallagher celebrates her in glorious retro chic. Mauve is the play's steadiest, most relatable character, often dismayed by the others' eccentricities and passions, and Hughes makes her heartbreakingly genuine. Carroll reveals the layers in Jonny, whose selfish jealousies give way to deeper tragedies, and Rioh likewise uncovers the sensitive person hiding behind Dorian's aggressiveness.

Congrats to Curio, which is including more and more new work by local writers in its eclectic seasons. Gluck has much to say, and she's just getting started; I can't wait to see what she does next.