Photo by Valerie Giacobbe
Photo by Valerie Giacobbe

A-Glow at the Fringe

Lisa Bardarson

Co-created and directed by Sarah Mitteldorf and performed by its collaborators Ashley Alter, Nina Giacobbe, Rachel O’Hanlon-Rodriguez and Samantha Rose Schwab the over-arching theme of the hour-long show Glow is technology’s impact on humanity and how it lures us with the temptation to connect.  Sadly, as the show clearly demonstrates, our fascination with technology invariably leaves us feeling achingly empty. Happily, though, this reviewer felt sated by the troupe’s successful tackling of these complex social issues.

The play begins as some of the actors respond to an impersonal yet familiar questionnaire. You know the kind: name, d.o.b., email address, password, etc.  When the actors are asked to describe their relationship status, things take a turn for the personal. They squirm with discomfort as they wrestle with the deeper meaning of the question. (What’s your status?  Married? Single?  Divorced? Homeless? GLBT?)  One actor responds with a hopeful and dreamy, “Yes” while another exclaims with cheery enthusiasm, “Self-sufficient but hopeful!”  I enjoyed the insight into their personas revealed through their vocal energy, a quality frequently annihilated in emails, texts and Twitter posts.

In one scene, two women are in a line at Starbucks, each engaged in separate cell-phone conversations.  When a predictable collision ensues the two coffee-seeking women are carried further into their separate worlds as they rant and complain to their respective half on the other end of the line.  In a universe far, far away an accidental collision like this might have yielded an opportunity for an “I beg your pardon” or a tip of the hat. Instead, we see the negativity that technology can push us toward if we aren’t  careful.

Two other characters emerge in a verbal tearing down of one another as a third, fairy-like character attempts to stop their venomous attack.  As if their putrid spew weren’t enough, the actors up the ante by writing insults on each other’s bodies in bold, black marker for all to see.  As witness, another dines on this visual feast while impassively eating an entire cake. 

In a repeated scene, two actors wander about the stage calling out, “Hello?  Hello?” They are as lost in cyber space as was Alice in Wonderland, looking for someone to connect with.  Will they see the light or just the lonely glow of a cell phone?

Glow (2013 FringeArts Festival), Kaleid Theatre  First Unitarian Church of Philadelphia, September 20-21, http://fringearts.ticketleap.com/glow/.

Share this article

Lisa Bardarson

Lisa Bardarson has been interacting with the Philadelphia dance community since the early 1980’s and has danced with South Street Dance Company, Dance Conduit and independent choreographers Philip Grosser and Jano Cohen, to name a few. Bardarson has received
numerous awards and commissions and served on the board of the Philadelphia Dance Alliance as well as Committee Chair for the Ellen Forman Memorial Scholarship Fund. She is a former staff writer with thINKingDANCE. Learn more.

PARTNER CONTENT

Keep Reading

Notes from Within Blank Placard Dance, Replay

Jonathan Stein

Protest, a living legacy and a committed practice

A young person with shoudler length red hair stands in a green long sleeve shirt hodling a blank white sign. onthe left a large mural of a female face looking up, and scales and lotus flower.
Photo: Amelia Candeub

Is Halprin’s postmodernism as radical today as it was in 1967?

Xander Cobb

Blank Placard Dance, Replay in Philadelphia

Dancers stand close together, forming a clump. They face in all directions, their bodies back to back, front to back, and back to side. Each one grips a wooden post holding high attached white posters. They wear bright yellows, purples, reds, blues, pinks, teals, and oranges. Some are visibly sweaty. Dancers facing the camera look serious and a bit fatigued. Glimpses of blue sky, clouds, a street, and city buildings fill the cracks between their blank signs.
Photo: Amelia Candeub