COIL Festival: Mac Wellman's "Muazzez" opens at The Chocolate Factory

Actor Steve Mellor sits at a small table and gazes at the audience with his doughy, oblong face and initially deadpan expression and begins to spill a torrent of words. This verbal current flows fast, faster, fastest without cease--miraculously, without tongue-twisting--and, at times, will rise to a level of dark bitterness. That Mellor--occupying The Chocolate Factory's earthly space as well as imagined interstellar space strewn with asteroids--introduces himself as an "abandoned cigar factory" with "a zygodactyly foot" is only part of the fun of Muazzez, a 45-minute monologue derived from short stories by known word wizard Mac Wellman.

"There's no drift to my thought," Mellor/Wellman tells us. "My thought is a rooted thing." Sure. No drift but definitely a well-greased sci-fi sequence on the move and speeding you along with it, scrambling your brain along with Wellman's mythopoetic play and scramble of words. We're invited to envision the high Eulalians of whom nothing is known except that they "builded" the cigar factories. We learn of the "primal radial symmetry" of "a series of spokes or spokey type spindles radiating from a deep and frosty central secret," which sounds kid of tasty. There are "non-self hedges and the hegemony of the self's perfect picture of the world" and something Wellman calls the "ambulatory frightwig of unappetizing complication," which strikes me as a useful insult to hurl at the next person to cross me. Yeah.

I am completely won over by this "succession a stratigraphic variorum," this "placing of jars and jarring of places" and Mellor's virtuoso performance that charges and populates nearly bare space with the high Eulalian magic(k) of words.

A COIL Festival co-presentation of Performance Space 122 and The Chocolate Factory, Muazzez runs through January 17. For complete schedule and ticketing details, click here.

The Chocolate Factory
5-49 49th Avenue, Long Island City, Queens
(map/directions)

On The Dream Express way to your heart

The Dream Express started with the sip of a drink, the wail of a distant train, and a kind of yelping, high-lonesome, tumbleweed song. The Chocolate Factory hosted a "journey to the end of the night" with its upstairs theater marvelously, if tackily, re-purposed as an honest-to-god cabaret for Obie-awardees Steve Mellor ("Spin Milton") and Deirdre O'Connell ("Marlene Milton"), known as, they kept telling us, The Dream Express, along with co-conspirators Len Jenkin (writer/director) and John Kilgore (composer).

At first glance, the formerly-married Miltons--hulking, vaguely surly Spin and slightly tipsy, vaguely slutty Marlene--looked like the kind of people you'd want to keep at arm's length. Please, god, do not let either of them come down off that stage and start messing with us. By the end of the roughly 90 minute act, a mashup of songs and stories, you'll find that you've relaxed. You've chuckled some. You've pondered some. You've learned to trust that Spin will rise from his keyboard, now and again, without actually assaulting anyone. What's more, the Miltons and their consciousness-streamings have managed to work their way under your skin. You've been seduced by Marlene's adorable, gutsy charm and roused by Spin's gusty vocal power. Who else has the skills to segue from Olivia Newton John to "A Whiter Shade of Pale" without inflicting terminal whiplash?

As the Miltons' dearly-departed "Uncle Wolfie" would say, "Make 'em laugh, make 'em cry, make 'em kiss ten bucks goodbye!"

In this case, it's 15 bucks and worth every single penny. Go see The Dream Express at The Chocolate Factory, Tuesdays-Saturdays  through December 19 (No performances 12/15-17). For details, travel directions and ticketing, click here.