Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Benno Blimpie response

Benno Blimpie response
Matt Weinstock


Reading this play made me feel like I was wallowing in someone else’s filth. Which I think is a valid emotional response—and one I feel that at least some of the audience members who see the play performed must have. Do lines like “I hadda run the vacuum cleaner to get the scales from his sores” and “you know, whatever cockroaches do in cunts” make anyone walk out? Is Benno Blimpie a play that, no matter how well-performed, could never receive a standing ovation—just because the audience would just be so grossed out by the end? The play is remarkably off-putting, to the extent that I’d guess a lot of audience members would shut themselves off and not react to it in any deeper way than “That was disgusting.” Perhaps the reality of having a padded performer who isn’t actually obese (or who, at least, weighs less than 500 pounds) play Blimpie would make the play more bearable, because you’d be constantly aware that the play was just a game of dress-up.
The funny thing about Benno’s revoltingness was that it made the less egregiously off-putting elements of the play seem comparatively sweet. I was charmed by the romance between Benno’s grandfather and the girl—especially the opening moments of Scene Six, where the lovestruck lines of the grandfather (“You very pretty for an Irish girl. I like you hair, it is so long and thick”) alternate with the girl’s frank observations (“You have bumps on your feet.”) Benno’s crushed-dreams father is probably the character I latched on to most—there was something very arresting about the image of a guy who played football and has stayed in shape living in a house where everyone else is overweight, crumpled, or aging. Of course, he has mental flaws (lives in the past) and he “can’t get it up,” but he still felt almost heroic. Since the whole play is through Benno’s eyes, this just may be how Benno sees him.

Questions
1. At what point in the play did you start to care about Benno? (If you ever did.) Are we meant to care about him, or be repulsed? (Since these memories are “presented” by Benno, do you get the sense that your reactions were deliberate on his part—i.e., when he wanted you to be repulsed, you’re repulsed, when he wanted to you pity him, you pity him? Or is he not that good a manipulator?)
2. Why does the Girl talk about food so much? (Almost as much as Benno, she seems to equate it with love and sex—like when she fantasizes about chicken legs, or seduces her cousin Donny by spilling meatball sauce on her dress.) Is Innaurato laboriously trying to weave the theme of food through the play, or is there a sincere connection between the Girl and Benno?
3. In Benno’s monologues, what purpose do the shifts between third person to first person serve? (Specifically, the monologues on page 18 and page 27.) Can a line be drawn between the two Bennos?
4. Why does the Old Man also show up as the butcher? Is there any significance, or is it just a matter of not wanting to pay another actor for such a brief appearance?
5. In Innaurato’s notes for production, he says he’s trying to “answer those questions in advance which, in my experience, have always come up regarding the performance of this play.” Why do you think he doesn’t include any advice for the actor playing the Father, though he writes about each of the other four characters? (Is the father meant to be played like a stereotype? Is there less depth to him?)

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