Review: A Brief Narrative of an Extraordinary Birth of Rabbits at Salvage Vanguard [Theater]

The "what we perceive is what we bring about/become" angle is better left, in real life, stuffed in the mouths of those assholes who forgo bathing in order to finish reading The Secret. It weakens what was an otherwise credible, engaging conversation and spurs one to consider the speaker's planet of origin and dedication to crystal collection. In a theatrical context, it's both more accessible and acceptable as it can be symbolically literalized; we see the effects and the proof of the theories in action, making the ideas more plausible. It also, in the case of A Brief Narrative, can make for quite the spectacle.

At its core, C. Denby Swanson's musing on the hoax birth of 18 rabbits (and rabbit portions) by Mary Toft is a tour along the existential, absurdist delta formed by the veins of Sartre and Albee. "Hell is other people"- and "we become what we are expected to be"-type commentaries bloom and flourish onstage, leaving a bittersweet, lingering redolence. Imagination and myopic hope are the weapons of the factions here, and no one is unaffected by the force of the others' desires. Vagina puppets happen, as do animorphism and slide shows of rat masturbation. The truly stand-out quality of Extraordinary Birth is its penchant for narrowly averting death (or, at least, an onslaught of eye rolls) while multi-tasking. Certain cheaper and indulgent bits (like a bawling musical interlude and mildly irksome doctor puppets) are deftly excused with panache at the last possible moment. Swanson defies death throughout the piece, juggling themes on a tightrope made of heartstrings while directing a choir of characters eager to be. When she trusts the strength and elocution of the voices she's crafted, the piece is alternately mellifluous and jarring. However, Swanson doubts the volume of certain voices and, unsure that the audience is rapt, periodically pushes the characters and their attached thematic commentaries to emphatically reassert themselves unnecessarily.

The main objective here is clearly communication and outreach, one well facilitated by a mostly stellar cast and ambitious direction. Clear stand-outs are Robin Grace Thompson and Halena Kayes as sisters Mare and Kitty who imbue the preposterous with imperative and deliver dizzying soliloquies with a power that could almost reorganize genetic make-up. Also piquing are the Nurse (Nitra Gutierrez) and Stork (Josh Meyer), dual narrators who are most frequently charged with translating convoluted stage action and dialogue, as well as making the passive speech (descriptions of historical cases, biological fact, etc.) electric. With a flurry of winks, nods, and nudges, they convey that the line between the imagined and the real is, when the heart gets involved, blurred. And that's the thing here: When considering this smart, well-intentioned play, it's important to realize that its tricks aren't disingenuous. Everything here is meant to reveal something, however baffling the method might be. Rarely is sleight-of-hand so honest.