The Shape of Things

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

Overly confident, drained of all emotion, Evelyn steps over the ropes as though she owns the world, much less the statue she has come to scrutinize. So begins Neil Labute’s The Shape of Things produced by Hunger Artists Ensemble Theatre at the John Hand Theater.

Stacey Nelms and Brian Landis Folkins in The Shape of Things. Photo by Isaac Palma-Ruwe

Labute takes a microscope endowed with a sharp razor to adult relationships to George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion with a not-so-charming twist. Hunger Artists, under the direction of Joan Staniunas, picks up that microscope and explodes it onto the stage with a stunning cast of four: Stacy Nelms, Brian Landis Folkins, Deni-Marie Warren, and Jack Wefso.

An art student working on her thesis, Evelyn knows exactly what she wants to do and why. Nothing will stand in her way. Nelms gives Evelyn that sharp, tainted, deliberate, calculating look that both scares and intrigues. Not an open book, Nelms sees to it Evelyn can’t be read past the Table of Contents.

Adam tries. A security guard for the museum, Folkins plays Adam as most see security guards wandering the halls of museums and office buildings, looking impressive in their uniforms, but creating huge question marks as to their ability to avert any serious mishap. Undoubtedly there are many very capable security guards out there, but the image does exist. Folkins, perhaps through the magic of mirrors, has the image down pat.

No one is supposed to go beyond the rope he tells Evelyn. She knows. Initial conversation becomes clipped, funny in a tragic sort of way. Adam reveals himself to be totally inept not only with his job but as a man. He stumbles over his words, freaks when he sees a spray-paint can in her hand, and stumbles over asking her out.

Sean Cochran designed the stark set with four stools used in a variety of ways by the characters. Shading the stage are large red wall hangings strategically placed. In several short scenes, the action moves smoothly from one place to another with self-identification.

Somehow Evelyn and Adam fall in love.

Sparks fly when they connect with Adams’s once upon a time roommate and best friend, Phillip, (Wefso) and his self-contained lady-like doormat fiancˇ, Jenny (Warren). Warren captures the lady-like doormat persona to a tee. From her dress, her posture, her always wanting to say the right thing at the right time, and her willingness or fear, as the case may be, to let Phillip speak for her.

Filled with “gustoed” bravado ever so full of himself, Phillip lives under the impression he knows it all. Wefso pumps him up to the point of explosion. Evelyn takes him on, Jenny remains silent. Adam squirms.

Adam begins to change. He loses weight by working out (that’s where the magic of mirrors comes in), he changes his hair style, he has a nose job, and he even lets go of a tan corduroy jacket he’s worn for four years. He confuses Phillip. He confuses himself, but he’s so in love with the manipulative Evelyn he can’t see the forest for the trees. She holds all the demonstrative moves of being very much in love with him.

This play is going somewhere and it’s not down the happy bunny trail or even into the happily ever after state of married bliss. This is about man’s inhumanity to man, about ego conniving to get what it wants however, whenever it takes. It’s about growing up, as Jenny does. It’s about explosive emotions, psyche blindness, jumping to conclusions, and accepting naive explanations, and being in love for the sake of being in love without scrutiny. Riddled with some outrageously funny lines, one laughs, and then thinks Whoa! The lines is funny, the situation tragic. All four walk the road of delayed disaster.

To give the ending away would be a mistake and ruin the jolt of truth.

Kay Shelton’s lighting design walks side by side with the four characters, the explosive confrontations, and the quiet justifications. Kristen Krieg’s costume design sets each character apart in their own world of bullish behavior, and blinded belief. Luke Terry’s sound design fits joltingly and snugly within the play’s concept.

On the one hand it might appear Labute went to extremes to prove a point, but with careful examination, he proved a point without going to extremes. The shape of things create shapes of things cultivating false expectations, disguised hopes, glued on rose colored glasses, insecurity masked with bravado, confusing needs with wants and wants with needs. That’s the shape of things.

An air of mystery fondles its way into provoking mind thoughts interspersed with humorous lines and situations leaving one to ponder why these four hang out together.

With Staniunas’ sharp perceptive direction, and the high quality of the cast, the play moves at a strong clip. This is definitely a production that should not be missed.