Created and performed by Ronnie Burkett. Factory Theatre, to Feb. 26.
Puppet master Ronnie Burkett’s previous plays have dealt with AIDS, suicide and the Holocaust. So it’s no surprise that his latest work finds him taking on the end of the world. The gorgeously gloomy Penny Plain is partly a satire of doomsday scenarios and partly a serious meditation on what it means to be human—all done, exquisitely, with marionettes.
Penny Plain is a sweet, blind old lady who sits patiently in her living room while the outside world goes to hell in a blaze of environmental, economic and other disasters. We hear reports of the insanity from snatches of news broadcasts and get glimpses of it via the other survivors who come and go in Penny’s boarding house. They include a transvestite banker, a homicidal editor, two obnoxious American refugees, a suave talking dog who acts like a man and a traumatized teenage girl who pretends she’s a dog.
This show marks the 25th anniversary of Burkett’s unique Theatre of Marionettes and, in many ways, it’s quintessential Ronnie—raunchy and whimsical, scathing and tender.
There are flaws: The serene elderly central character and houseful of oddballs too closely resemble his 2000 play Happy. And while he takes a dig at editors, Burkett could use one himself—he might begin by cutting some of the shrill monologues by Penny’s antithesis, a vile old bag obsessed with excrement.
Still, Burkett’s dazzling gifts as a puppeteer haven’t dimmed in a quarter-century. His magic is enhanced by Kevin Humphrey’s delicate lighting and John Alcorn’s moody score. Penny Plain may portray an apocalypse, but it’s Apocalypse Wow.
