Don’t try to find a moral in this story, warns the narrator of “Wolves,” Steve Yockey’s dark retelling of Little Red Riding Hood now playing at Redtwist Theatre. If you happen to stumble across a moral, you may be closer to this tale than you’d like to think — and it’s not a nice one.
This ominous prologue opens a grim fable about a young man whose escalating paranoia ultimately explodes into violence, manifesting the very predator he fears. Redtwist artistic director Dusty Brown’s production of this psychological horror story is bloody, claustrophobic and surprisingly funny at times.
Joshua Servantez stars as Ben, a young gay man who has moved from a small town where he didn’t fit in to a big city where he still doesn’t fit in. Lonely and isolated, he forms an unhealthily codependent relationship with Jack (Gardy Gilbert); when we meet them, the two are no longer lovers but still roommates.
The narrator (Monique Marshaun) is no mere storyteller but weaves in and out of the plot, whispering into characters’ ears and sowing seeds of doubt. When she’s not interacting with them, she pauses the action from time to time to provide sardonic commentary.
In the opening scene, Ben tries to convince Jack to spend an evening in rather than going out by himself to a local bar. Although it’s never fully explained why, Ben has developed a debilitating fear of the city at night, seeing it as a vast forest filled with dangerous animals such as wolves. Only by staying inside their small apartment will they be safe after dark, he is convinced. After a bitter argument that accidentally turns to blows, Jack finally leaves, wearing a red velvet top with a hood (costumes by Madeline Felauer).
When Jack brings home a socially anxious but seemingly sweet man whom he insists on calling Wolf (Michael Dias), Ben’s precarious mental state unravels even more at the perceived threat from this stranger. He rocks back and forth on his bed, clutching the duvet and listening to music while the couple gets to know each other on the couch in the next room.
All of this takes place on a sparse set designed by Rose Johnson and dominated by red and black. A bed, couch and liquor cart are the only furniture we see in Ben and Jack’s two-bedroom apartment; although Ben considers it a haven, there are few creature comforts in his home. The narrator’s corner of the stage is decorated with a tree made of red yarn, evoking the play’s fairy-tale inspiration, and on another wall, a large ax hangs suspended by the same yarn — a blatant Chekhov’s gun if there ever was one.
When the gun goes off, so to speak, Ben becomes a killer who is convinced that he is still the prey, fighting the voice in his head and wringing his hands with Lady Macbeth-like guilt. The horror elements are ratcheted up in the end, with red lighting and strobe effects designed by Piper Kirchhofer and disturbing performances from Servantez, Gilbert and Dias. Beware of sitting in the splash zone up front; you may leave with a souvenir spot of stage blood.
“Wolves” was the second spooky show I saw last weekend, after Kokandy Productions’ Chicago premiere of “American Psycho: The Musical.” Both feature protagonists who can’t cope with modern urban life, one nursing homicidal fantasies and the other paranoid delusions. As the narrator of “Wolves” says, some people simply don’t know how to behave when confronted with the world — and some don’t realize that about themselves until it’s too late.
Neither Patrick Bateman nor Ben is particularly likable, but I find the latter more pitiable. His is a cautionary tale about the power of fear to overwhelm, paralyze and engender violence. Aren’t history and current headlines full of such stories on both individual and collective levels? Sure, the narrator warns against looking for a moral — and by all means, if you see yourself in Ben, please seek help — but it’s the sign of a good horror story that it holds up a mirror to the darkest parts of ourselves or at least makes us wonder what could drive us to such extremes. As I emerged from Redtwist’s black box theater blinking at the afternoon sunlight on a warm October day, I knew I’d be thinking about this one for a while.
Emily McClanathan is a freelance critic.
Review: “Wolves” (3 stars)
When: Through Nov. 5
Where: Redtwist Theatre, 1044 W. Bryn Mawr Ave.
Running time: 1 hour, 15 minutes
Tickets: $30 at RedtwistTheatre.org