Odd Man Out

Tweet

Imagine, if you will, being in a space with no light, not a glimmer, not a sparkle, total blackness surrounded by people experiencing the same loss of visual orientation. You can hear. You can smell. You can feel. No matter how hard you strain, there is nothing to see, only blackness, and the certainty of the unknown comes with it. With claustrophobic intensity, you are alone in your imagination of what awaits you in the dark.

Odd Man Out is written by Martín Bondone and directed by Bondone, Facundo Bogarín, and Carlos Armesto. It is a 10-hour flight to Buenos Aires, Argentina, while listening to the life story of a blind Argentinian jazz musician on his way to his birthplace from New York City. It is a story of wonder, fear, loss, discovery, and love, all wrapped in a cloak of darkness. It is a tale illuminated by all the senses except sight. It is a show worth experiencing as an exemplar of the art of dramatic performance in the grand tradition of theater.

It is an immersive theatrical experience that puts the audience into the role of a blind person who must navigate the world without sight. It forces one to pay close attention to the spoken words and the other sounds in the speaker’s area. In this production, the focus on hearing what is said is heightened with the addition of odors and tactile sensations such as a misty expression of rain, a splash of water from a pool, or, in the case of this story, a moment in a terrifying interrogation.

Allowing one’s imagination to give structure to a story was the major component of radio drama before the advent of television. The different articulations and accents of the actors defined the characters and the sound effects filled in the mental picture of the action. As good as the broadcasts were, and some were extraordinary, the sound still came from only one location, and there were no environmental cues, such as odors or tactile sensations.

Odd Man Out takes what is essentially a radio drama and puts the audience within the physical context of the story. You can hear the characters moving. You can smell the flowers in the garden or the blooming tree in the yard. You can hear and feel the rain. It is a sensory augmentation of what was once only an aural experience. Smelling a rose is no longer an act of imagination but one of immediacy, and that enhances the suspension of disbelief that an audience undergoes to make them actual though passive participants in the action of the story.

The show starts in the lobby, which is presented as the waiting lounge at an airport. The check-in provides the seat assignment, and the lounge has a bar and comfortable seats while waiting to board. When the boarding begins, it is done in groups of four with the flight attendant in the lead and each of the passengers having their hands on the shoulders of the person in front of them while being led into a pitch-black space. The performance space is in profound darkness, with not even the glow of an exit sign, usually a fixture in every theater. It is a moment of profound disorientation with a once reliable sense disappearing.

After everyone is settled, a standard pre-takeoff flight announcement is made, and the audience hears a conversation involving Alberto Rinaldi, an Argentinian-born, New York City-based jazz musician. It is revealed that he is on his way to Buenos Aires after forty years of living in New York. The play is about his life from the time he was a child. It masterfully shifts from the dialogue in the airplane to flashback conversations in the various locales of the story. Each scene change is accompanied by odors, sounds, tactile sensations, or a combination involving all senses except sight, putting the audience into the immediacy of the action. The reason for Rinaldi’s return to Argentina is not revealed until late in the story, adding a layer of mystery.

The ensemble’s performances are primarily verbal, although the actors can be heard to move from time to time. It is, in essence, a radio drama with elements added to help the audience complete a mental image of the action. Pablo Drutman’s vocal characterizations of Alberto as an old man and a young man create two distinctly different aspects of the same character. It is a first-rate performance. Bree Klauser and Agustina Cedraschi perfectly embody three characters, Clara, Julieta, and Alberto, as a child. Since the stage is dark, it is impossible to know which character each plays. Clara is Alberto’s love interest from when he was a child, and Julieta is a woman on the plane who is conversing with Alberto.

Andrés Montejo’s principal character is Christian, the man sitting next to Alberto on the flight who, with Julieta, is the trigger for Alberto’s tale. He gives a solid, supportive performance in that role, along with other voices of unscripted characters. Mauricio Marte is primarily two of Alberto’s friends from his youth. He does an excellent job embodying them and adding additional voices as needed. Lorenza Bernasconi gives solid performances as the two crucial older women in Alberto’s life: his mother Mabel, and his music teacher, Doña Elsa, Clara’s mother.

Voice characterizations were the stock and trade of radio actors in the years before television. Now, this skill is most often used in animated films, with few people knowing who the actors are behind the character’s voices, even when the names are listed. None of the ensemble in Odd Man Out would be able to play multiple characters if the lights were on. In the grand tradition of voice characterization, they brought to life a story of love and survival without needing costumes, sets, or special lighting.

Odd Man Out (extended through August 24, 2024)

PITCHBLACK Immersive Experiences, in association with Radio Drama Network

Shiner Theatre at the Sheen Center for Thought & Culture,  8 Bleecker Street, in Manhattan.

For tickets, visit https://feverup.com/m/178702

Running time: two hours without an intermission