Theatre in Review: Beyond Words (Urban Stages)

	Bill Bower. Photo: Yoshio Itagaki

Bill Bowers calls himself a mime, but I'm not sure that the term does him justice. Yes, his current vehicle, Beyond Words, features a number of wordless sequences, as did his last piece, It Goes Without Saying, seen at Rattlestick Playwrights Theatre in 2006. But how many mimes do you know of who are such amusing raconteurs? It's a point worth dwelling on, because, even as a spoken- word man, Bowers is one of a kind. Solo shows about growing up gay and misunderstood are a dime a dozen, but Bowers' youth, spent in rural Montana , keeps him supplied with the kind of fresh, attention-getting details that many other performers would kill for.

"My grandfather was a gold miner. My father was a farmer. I am a mime," he announces early on, making clear that this is not going to be yet another tale of suburban angst. As a teenager, he gets a job in a local restaurant, where he becomes salad bar manager, a task that he invests with too much creative energy. "I actually made a state map of Montana out of Jell-O," he recalls with pride. When such activities make his colleagues nervous, he says, "Nora, my supervisor, asked to see me by the taxidermy display." This is also the rare entertainment in which the narrator recalls a childhood spent, in part, collecting deer pelts.

Do things just happen to Bowers or does he have a sharper eye than most for the eccentric details? You'll wonder during an uproarious passage describing his week as an artist in residence in Choteau, Montana, population 1,750. He is greeted by a dirt-covered farmer who happily announces, "Well, I do believe you are the first homosexual mime we've had here in town." On further investigation, it turns out that Choteau comes complete with an African drumming circle, a senior citizens clown brigade, and a community theatre putting on an indescribable production of Oliver! Somehow, one feels, such things don't happen to ordinary mimes.

And yes, when he isn't busy chatting us up about his singular experiences, Bowers exercises his talents as a mime, although, once again, he continues to surprise. Certain sequences, including a cowboy movie parody and a set piece about a factory worker with a passion for ballet, are closer to silent film clowning than standard white-face whimsy. (With his aquiline nose, piercing eyes, a face made of pure rubber, and a sly sense of humor, he seems a worthy successor to Bill Irwin.) Other sequences are more movement than mime, and appear to have been choreographed rather than created; this is especially true of one of the diciest sequences, about Matthew Shepard, which somehow manages to skirt being sentimentally exploitative, if only just.

But there's a natural delicacy and honesty in all of Bowers' work that allows him to tackle such material without making a play for easy tears. Beyond Words is a series of essays, both spoken and silent, on the subject of masculinity; it's drawn from a variety of sources -- the front page, Bowers' family history, the works of Sherwood Anderson -- and it is especially good at depicting how sensitive, unassertive spirits can be warped by the unyielding norms of Midwestern Protestant rectitude. In one quietly heartbreaking passage, he describes how an unbeloved uncle -- a chain-smoking old crab with an insult for every occasion -- was once a little boy with an all-too-noticeable attachment to a doll. When he attends school and the teasing of his peers becomes too brutal, we see him hanging the doll on the laundry line, beating it with an enormous stick. It's a devastating image of a soul being left mortally wounded, in plain sight.

In fact, the only reservation I have about Beyond Words is its highly episodic structure. Each piece ends in a blackout and Bowers leaving the stage, resulting in a certain amount of dead air now and then. The show would benefit from a more cohesive structure for the pieces. And it's not until the final minutes -- when, in a rush of events, we learn that Bowers has fathered a child and is soon to be married -- that you realize how good he is at deflecting the focus away from himself to others. There aren't many shows that would benefit from a more obviously confessional element, but this may be one of them.

Still, if the director and co-developer, Scott Illingworth, hasn't been able to help Bowers connect all the narrative dots, he has provided his star with a fine setting. Roman Tatarowicz's set is dominated by a series of oversized scenic flat frames, plus a handful of key scenic pieces, including a door, a window, and a vintage radio. Lee Terry's lighting fills the stage with warmly inviting washes of saturated color. David Lawson's sound design is a nonstop battery of effects and music -- the sequences in which Bowers channels bits of various television broadcasts are priceless --as well as a number of songs, sung by, I think, Suzzy Roche.

In any event, Beyond Words is an evening of honestly earned laughter linked to surprisingly powerful emotions; words, movement, and mime are yoked to remarkably striking effect. He can call himself a mime, but, in truth, Bill Bowers is in a category all by himself.--David Barbour