Day eight: East 10th Street: Self Portrait with Empty House

My first one-man (or woman) show here! I love to see one-person shows, because sometimes they're AWFUL and sometimes they're incredible. This one was definitely more toward the incredible side of the spectrum, although I wouldn't use that extreme of a word to describe it. Instead, I'll say...engaging, humorous, thoughtful.

It's written and performed by this man who lives in New York, Edgar Oliver, and it seems almost completely autobiographical. All it is really is he walks into the middle of the stage, and 8-10 uplights shine on him the whole time as he tells the story about how he came to living in his apartment on E. 10th St., and what it's like to live there. I think that's why I liked it. It wasn't one of those one-person shows where they're awkwardly miming or talking on the phone...things that you might as well just cast other people to get across. (I know some work, but not the ones I've seen.) Instead, it's just this probably mid-sixties man who clearly wants to share his story, so he does. Really simple, and as a result, engaging almost the whole time.

His whole play could absolutely be read as a book. In fact, I'd probably rather read it as a book if it was anyone else but him performing it. There were a few times I got distracted and didn't pay attention to parts of his story, but it wasn't like I was itching to get out of there. I was simply relaxed in the moment, and the next time he said something funny, I'd snap back into it.

I'm not positive exactly how much is autobiographical (and I wonder how much he's sure of that, himself), but at the bottom of the program, he dedicates the show to all the characters he mentioned in his story, so I suspect it's at least based on truth. But something tells me it's more than just that. The show had the refreshing feeling of a man who is not hung up on anything he's experienced, but who simply takes great enjoyment in recounting it all. Part of the story revolves around a young man he was in love with. He describes it artfully, in that this part does not take over the show as love stories often do, but the audience can still begin to comprehend the gravity of the experience.

When I was in the bathroom after the show, I heard a woman say to another, "That really wasn't your kind of show, was it?" That seemed weird for her to say, and I couldn't figure out why. But then I realized, since the performance was so open and genuine (and clearly about his life), it seemed like it couldn't be judged by anyone other than himself. It's like me telling you about my day yesterday, and you saying, "I really don't like how you told that." It's legitimate, but it just doesn't matter. Moreover, judgment about the way I told it probably wouldn't be the first thing you'd jump to. In the woman's defense, I wouldn't necessarily call East 10th Street a play, exactly, but that ended up not mattering much to me after the first two minutes.

Also, the song that played at the beginning and the end was beautiful. I'm going to email them to find out what it was...I'll put it here if I figure it out.