I saw "A Behanding in Spokane" for the third time last night. And I have tickets for Wednesday. This is the rare instance when a play gets under my skin the way a powerful musical score does.
A musical has moments of deliberately lifted feelings. Why do they dim the lights, step downstage, and begin to sing instead of speak more anyway? The feelings are much to contain with mere speaking; that's the idea anyway, no? Think Jean Valjean, which will it be? Continue his prosperous life--or condemn another man to slavery, "Who Am I? Can I condemn this man to slavery? Pretend I do not see his agony? This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgment in my place."
By song's end Valjean has declared himself to Javert, "Who Am I?...2-4-6-0-1!!" I walked around with that score on a loop for I don't know how long. Long. I could not, nor did I want to really, dispel that score from my head.
My record for seeing any play, musical or not, is 12 times. You will not likely guess which one, it's Savion Glover's "Bring in da Noise, Bring in da Funk," the rap, tap musical. Eleven goes to "Les Miserables," and "A Chorus Line." I even saw "Hello Dolly" three times--and I was 12 years old!"
The urgency to go back, without a score. "A Behanding in Spokane" is Martin McDonaugh's new play, he of the Irish noir trilogies Leenane and Inishmaan. It's his first set in America, but firmly in his gonzo-sort-of Irish tales (gory, dark--gonzo).
"A Behanding in Spokane" is super lively and entertaining belying the darkness below. I would have seen it exactly once if it weren't for Christopher Walken. Walken is giving the bravura performance of a lifetime (and that is saying something).
The story follows Walken's character, who lost his hand 47 years ago during the commission of a gruesome crime, and has been obsessed with finding the hand ever since. He lives on the margins; pretty far out on the margins of human interaction, morality, or sense of humor for that matter. He says the darkest possible thing, in a way you can only imagine Christopher Walken ever delivering. You can't not laugh, but you're like, "Oh, shit." Mr. Walken is giving a master class in timing and delivery.
I am a huge Christopher Walken fan (who isn't?).
And, for instance, if you want to skip to the funniest part of the movie, "The Aristocrats," just go the part with Kevin Pollack relating the filthy joke as Christopher Walken had told it to him. I am hopelessly under Walken's spell in Behanding.
Sam Rockwell is no slouch either, never is, as the beleaguered, off-the-wall receptionist at the hotel Carmichael lives in. Zoe Kazan is a surprising unsung addition, she's great.
I can't recommend this enough. The play lasts a brief 90 minutes. Opens strong, grabs you by the throat, drags you around for the next 89 minutes, and boy are you glad it did.
Ron Gallen
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