- OTHER MEDIA
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- SF Weekly March 25, 2007 (Nathaniel Eaton)
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- This play, as its subtitle suggests, is a one-man Beckettlike riff
about "nothing," written by the incomparable Will Eno. The script
was a finalist for the 2005 Pulitzer Prize, and this production, directed
by Marissa Wolf, is solidly one of the best pieces of theater I've ever
witnessed. So much so, it leaves me speechless. That said, let me first
riff some honest, yet terribly clichéd, adjectives: mind-blowing,
confronting, difficult, heady, hilarious. If this sounds like hyperbole,
let me then quote from Charles Isherwood's review of the Off-Broadway production
from The New York Times: "astonishing ... audacious ... grabs us by
the throat ... a small masterpiece." So really, what is this show
about nothing really about? A young man (the thrilling Jonathan Bock) stands
alone on a blank stage. He delivers, in a measured and controlled Rod Serling–esque
tone, a stream-of-consciousness monologue about the horror and beauty of
being alive. It's menacingly funny. Bock makes serious eye contact with
the audience, breaking down the fourth wall and asking questions. Don't
worry, you don't have to answer — they're rhetorical, aren't they?
The guy seated to my right captured it best: "This show has all the
emotion in that moment before a first kiss ... or a fist fight." It's
brilliant.
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