It takes some work to watch Blackout Songs. The kind of work you do when you’re three sheets to the wind and attempting to perform a complex task, like walking across the street or carrying on a conversation. Joe White’s aptly named, Olivier Award–nominated play depicts a series of encounters between two young people, identified in the script only as “Him” and “Her,” who begin a tortured romantic relationship after encountering each other at an AA meeting. Told in nonlinear, fragmented, and often confusing fashion, the story is hard to get a handle on. But it’s worth sticking with it.
When we first see her, the woman (Abbey Lee) is coolly scanning her surroundings while leaning against the table of coffee and cookies. It’s clear this isn’t her first time in such a place. Then the man (Owen Teague) staggers in, in bad shape. He’s nervous, his hands are shaking, and he can’t control his stammering. Nonetheless, she strikes up a conversation, clearly interested in him despite the fact that he’s obviously struggling.
In the next scene, set sometime later, they meet again at the same place, only his neck brace is gone and he’s in much better condition. She claims not to remember him, or the night they spent together, which he naturally finds insulting. But they rekindle their romance, and we eventually learn that he’s an art student.
And later, we see him as an artist, one who has paintings being shown in a gallery which he proudly shows off to her. And so it goes—through a series of encounters that take place over an unspecified period of time and that may or may not reflect reality. In their first meeting, for instance, she tells him she’s discovered a tooth in her pocket. Later, there’s a scene in which she pulls a broken, bloody tooth out of his mouth with a pair of pliers (it’s as hard to watch as it sounds).
The episodic work features a series of memorable vignettes, such as when he cajoles her into sneaking into a church to steal some communion wine. The free-flowing dialogue is fast-paced and elliptical, and often difficult to follow. But it nonetheless proves frequently impactful, as when he brutally asks her, “You know we’re just drinking buddies, don’t you?”
The play sustains our interest thanks to the memorable characterizations and superb work by the two actors, both of whom are true up-and-comers in film and television. Lee has appeared in such films as Mad Max: Fury Road and the Netflix series Black Rabbit, while Teague has garnered raves for indie films including Montana Story and To Leslie, as well as for his turn as a chimpanzee in the blockbuster Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. Both seem to be making their theatrical debuts here, and their performances, under the strong direction of Rory McGregor and seen up close in the very intimate theater, are physically and emotionally visceral.
Scott Pask’s minimal set design serves the abstract narrative well, while Stacey Derosier’s lighting and Brian Hickey’s sound design and music are integral to the proceedings.
Blackout Songs proves a bit repetitive at times and probably would benefit from some paring of its 95-minute running time. But there’s no denying that it packs a powerful punch.
