By Carolyn Hayes Harmer

Article: 9573; Posted: April 12, 2015 at 12:00 p.m.

For viewers who prefer depravity and discomfort in their art, the new production of Philip Ridley’s “Tender Napalm” at The Ringwald Theatre lives contentedly at that rare intersection of hard-to-watch and can’t-miss.

The play, by provocateur Ridley fits right in with the Ringwald’s often-confrontational fare; four years ago, the playwright’s apocalyptic “Mercury Fur” scandalized audiences to much fanfare and sold-out crowds.

As the lights come up, a half-dressed woman and man (Meredith Deighton and Michael Lopetrone) are in the middle of an intimate conversation, talking dirty about each other’s bodies. But rather than kittenish foreplay, their sexual words have violent connotations. The assaulting, literally penetrative nature of the content is meant to be distressing; even the characters seem unsure how comfortable they are with their role-playing from moment to moment. It’s the first in a series of question marks about these unknown people, their history, and their ultimate purpose.

The production design offers similarly little in terms of context: skeletally painted surfaces by scenic designer Alexander Leo Carr are downplayed by dissonant orange-green lighting by Brandy Joe Plambeck. Without any tangible sense of place or character, the play offers nothing but this single relationship in what appears to be a complete vacuum. Long monologues drop clues like breadcrumbs as the man and woman whisk each other off on tangents, either recalling separate memories or departing from reality entirely to a shared desert-island fantasy, commenting on the imaginary “view.”

In the absence of plot or objective, the success of the show can be chalked up to tone and performance, both of which are appropriately eerie. Lopetrone gets caught up in his storytelling with coked-out enthusiasm, bounding unconstrained around the space with exaggerated, stylized physicality (splendidly overseen by special movement designer Jill Dion). In Deighton, readiness and unwillingness commingle more subtly; the actor revels in moments of sweetly smug confidence, but also shows tiny, telling cracks when her coping mechanism fails her.

For all their raunchy talk, tandem competitiveness, and overwriting of each other’s fictions, the actors overwhelmingly convey support throughout their interactions; whatever has them seeking this suspended animation, it’s shared. As their trains of thought begin to gather steam and converge, patient viewers begin to get more of an inkling of the underlying concern. But Warrow’s direction wisely kicks away hard from the source of trouble, making the relentless pursuit of escape all the more powerful as things come into focus, bringing jarring moments of conception.

A deliberately perplexing piece like “Tender Napalm” calls for some kind of caveat, but not necessarily for its risqué content. This is not the play for a casual viewer seeking light entertainment; rather, it rewards viewers who are prepared to key in and trust that its maddening ambiguity will have some kind of payoff. Indeed, careful attention is amply rewarded here, as all kinds of details eventually come full circle — a testament to the incredible depth of empathy that can be attained without explicit understanding.

SHOW DETAILS
Tender Napalm
The Ringwald
22742 Woodward Ave., Ferndale
April 11–May 4, 2015; Saturdays and Monday evenings at 8:00 p.m., Sunday matinees at 3:00 p.m.
Price: $20.00 for Saturday performances, $15.00 for Sundays, $10.00 Monday nights
248.545.5545
www.TheRingwald.com