Washington Ensemble Theatre lopes along with Smudge, closing tonight at 7:30 p.m. Playwright Rachel Axler has Daily Show and Parks and Rec credits (and Emmys) to her name, but this off-Broadway script has a decidedly darker tone, more in line with the anxieties of Rosemary’s Baby.
A young couple are expecting, but the stork delivers something not quite…anything, and they are left to deal with the afterbirth. New dad Nick (Ash Hyman) takes to his offspring right away, doting on the creature, and coaching it with strengthening exercises for its single eye. But mom Colby (Carol Thompson) oscillates between fear of and anger towards her limbless bundle of patchy fur.
The three-actor black comedy is rounded out by Noah Benezra, who if anything is underused. He has a manic energy in delivering his rants that is lacking whenever the plot returns to the matter at hand. The “baby” is played by a bassinet-turned-incubator replete with tubes and heart monitor beeps. Perhaps that’s why the chemistry of the cast is not quite right, with one of the actors running a shade behind the other two, or behind an inanimate object.
As is often the case at WET, the real star of the show is the set. Every play in the small space–it’s not called the Little Theater for nothing–must figure out how to use the tiny stage, and that’s often one of the most intriguing aspects about approaching a new play from The Ensemble. This time around, Devin August Peterson makes another memorable set within a set (within a set?) that manages to elegantly serve several functions at once. It’s no filling-the-stage-slowly-with-water, but it demonstrates a wit that the rest of the production lacks.
But back to the domestic horror story. Is it hysterical fantasy, postpartum depression, the delusions of parental expectations and fulfillment, or an extended allegory on disability and special needs? Yes. Probably a little of all of the above. And in its vaguery and openness, it loses any chance for deeper meaning. If it’s not about something, it is kinda about nothing. Just a smudge.