Years ago, the humorist Roy Blount Jr. observed that a cat wasn’t enough like having another person in the house, whereas a dog was too much like having another person in the house. He didn’t offer an opinion on the domestic congeniality of otters, hermit crabs or rabbits.
For that, one can turn to Ethan Lipton’s “Red Handed Otter,” now in a local premiere at A Red Orchid Theatre. This shaggy-dog tale, directed with dead-eye precision by Dado and performed with endearing gusto by a cast of five, contrasts the current personal circumstances of security guards at a housing complex in a nameless city with their memories of animals who imprinted upon them in one way or another.
It opens with Paul (Guy Van Swearingen) and Donald (Luce Metrius) listening to Dawn Upshaw’s solo in Henryk Gorecki’s “Symphony No. 3,” in which a mother mourns a child murdered by Nazis. Paul’s loss is more prosaic; his 17-year-old cat, Jennifer, has finally lost the last of her nine lives.
Donald tries to empathize by relating the story of the title beast, whom he cared for as a child until the baby otter was old enough to swim away.
That’s something Paul hasn’t been able to do. He acquired Jennifer when he thought he’d be working “six months, tops,” at his job, but the months have stretched into years. To make matters worse, Donald is now dating Paul’s ex, fellow security guard Angela (Ashley Neal). Paul could use a break. What he’s not so sure he needs — despite the pronounced opinions of his co-workers — is another cat.
Anyone who has enjoyed the rare pleasure of a night away from a nocturnal creature demanding victuals at Too Early O’Clock will understand Paul’s mixed but articulate emotions on the subject, and not just because, when it comes to Jennifer, “If you just look at it objectively, we’re talking about one of the best cats in history!”
Commitment — to a job, to a relationship, to a friendship, to an animal — implies both stasis and sacrifice.
Change is something that doesn’t come easily to Lipton’s kennel of thwarted creatures. (Jim Moore’s gray-washed set, featuring metal grates and square surveillance screens, looks like a cage more than a cube farm.)
In addition to choleric Paul, upbeat Donald (who counters Gorecki with Donna Summer) and ambitious Angela (the only one who, like the baby bunnies who figure in her contribution to these off-kilter animal stories, breaks away from the workplace litter), there’s also Estelle (Mierka Girten) and Randy (Bob Kruse). The latter two enact their own harebrained courtship rituals. These are nearly undone when Randy (he of the hermit crab — “the perfect combination of a wet and dry pet”) finds out about Estelle’s petless history.
“What kind of a person would go their whole lives without loving an animal?” Kruse’s red-faced Randy bellows — to which Girten (who, as is often the case in Red Orchid shows, excels at providing the sanest voice in the nuthouse) replies “People! We had people!”
This is slight fare, to be sure. But those who chuckle at photos comparing the physiognomy of dogs to their owners will surely find much to recognize in Lipton’s affable and often funny portraits of people who find succor in how they care for smaller creatures.
A section where the entire cast tries to mimic a growling rabbit is one of the most blissfully silly ensemble interludes I’ve seen in a while. And unlike other playwrights who use dead animals as a metaphor for unspeakable human cruelty (ahem, Martin McDongah!), Lipton’s stories reveal the bruised but rabbit-soft hearts of people who desire little more than basic creature comforts, wherever they stumble upon them.
Reid is a freelance reporter.
REVIEW: Red Handed Otter at A Red Orchid Theatre
3 STARS
When: Through May 24
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Where: A Red Orchid Theatre, 1531 N. Wells St.
Running time: 90 minutes
Tickets: $30-$35 at 312-943-8722 or aredorchidtheatre.org