Written by Steve Martin
Directed by Tod Kimbro
Performance Space Orlando
Carl F Gauze
Well, I have to admit it. I’m a WASP. Oh, sure, there’s a 12-step program, or I could claim to love that velour soul sound of James Brown and the Motown homies. But it’s all a lie, and there’s no way around it. In fact, I’m just like this new, clear family munching dinner off the pink-themed dinette, talking love, and floral arranging and oral sex. The cast of WASP is a seething mass of inner secrets and subtle desire. Just take good old Dad. He’s not just the repository of religious knowledge and a connoisseur of piebald lawn jockeys, but the possessor of truly dark inner secrets. Mom not only whips up a mean mango Jell-O mold, but secretly communicates with Voices who assures her about the meaning of love, and why leaving dad might not be a good idea. After all, Voices is omniscient – she scored an 85 on the final, and any thing above 80 means you know everything. Junior hangs with a freaky space man, and Sis has some truly interesting fantasies while in choir practice. See? We people of non-color post-Catholic DWM extraction aren’t all THAT boring.
Well-paced and slightly surreal, this production bopped along to a Yma Sumac and Pseudo Elvis sound track. Cast vocals often overwhelmed the confines of Orlando’s funkiest venue, but the segues were clever and the action slipped seamlessly between the cardboard cut out characterizations of Real Life and the poignant, all-too-close-to-home Fantasyland. Steve Martin (arrow-through-the-head guy) is not well known as a playwright, and perhaps just as well, as the non-linear relations and fast switches from dream to reality can make your head spin.
Consider his play a luxury item — it will annoy your friends when they find out you saw it and they didn’t..