Friday night I went to see one of the last nights of Steve Yockey‘s Octopus. (Please note that he’s “Steve” and not “Steven,” so he can join the “Tim” and “Sam” and “Joe” club.)
When the play started, I thought I was in for a night of realism, one of those “this could have been on TV” kinds of shows. Really well-acted, but not very theatrical. Little did I know. The show actually does a fantastic thing of slowly becoming more and more surreal and theatrical and amazing.
And it’s handled perfectly. There’s just a little moment of “Huh?” And then back to normal. And then a little weirder. And then a little weirder. And soon there’s a scene at the bottom of the ocean, and water filling someone’s house, and we’re into territory that I personally really dig: things that could only happen in theatre.
Brilliant direction by Kate Warner, awesome set by Eric Flatmo, and tight acting by the entire company, with a special call-out to Patrick Alparone who’s been all over Impact Theatre’s stage and does a predictably perfect job here.
After the show, M and I hung out with Enrique in the Magic’s lounge and had a few beers while we talked about grad school, corporate jobs and the similarities between travel writing and playwriting. (Waiting around for a long, long time after you’ve written something before you finally get to see it being the main thing.)