Theatre in Review: The Pigeoning (HERE Arts Center)

	Photo: Richard Termine

Not since Alfred Hitchcock sent Tippi Hedren strolling down a dark corridor into a dark room filled with angry avians has there been so much fine feathered mayhem as you will find in The Pigeoning. Robin Frohardt's eccentric, yet consistently hilarious, piece makes use of a battery of theatrical techniques to tell a singular tale of man vs. bird.

It's clear that something is up when, entering the theatre, you discover an office safety manual at your seat. (As someone who once endured years of slavery to a big corporation, I can say with authority that it looks alarmingly like the real thing.) Similarly, the stage is blocked by a sign announcing "Welcome Employees to the Annual 'Safety in the Office Training Conference.'" As the show begins, a television is produced and we are treated to "a 27-part series" on "maintaining a hazard-free workplace." What follows is a riotously exact sendup of an employee training video, circa 1981, complete with big-haired, deadpan female narrator ("We have to get rid of corners") and inept recreations of dangerous moments in office life. (Frohardt wrote the video with Erica Livingston and Daniel Burnam.)

Once the video is over -- no, we don't get all 27 parts -- puppet theatre takes over, as we are introduced to Frank, a nerdy, middle-aged office worker with hair pasted to his forehead; big, thick glasses; and a perpetual frown. (The puppets were built by Frohardt and Jesse "Roadkill" Wilson.) You could call Frank, who is clearly one of life's losers, fastidious; he spends inordinate amounts of time cleaning his desk -- and when I say "cleaning" I mean to the point of carefully scraping dust off the top of his nameplate. Enjoying an outdoor lunch, he wipes the park bench before sitting on it. As he eats, he is visibly distressed by a full garbage can, buzzing bees, and some rather forward pigeons. In fact, those pesky birds are hard to shake; soon Frank is back in his office, looking disturbed as a pigeon sits on the sill, rapping his beak on the window.

Frank consults an office manual titled "Defining and Reporting an Interspecies Conspiracy," and sets out to document the pigeons' subversive activities, using a Polaroid camera, a movie camera, and a listening device. With a drive not seen since Wile E. Coyote last tried to trap the Road Runner -- and with equally futile results -- Frank devotes himself to his task. Meanwhile, one has to wonder: Why does one pigeon appear wearing a deep sea diving helmet? What about that canoe and oars? And what is the message that pigeon is tapping out on the telephone wires?

Frohardt and her collaborators create Frank's tiny, paranoid world down to the tiniest detail, building to scale remarkably realistic objects such as the aforementioned cameras; the Polaroid even ejects a tiny photo. Later, there is a miniature slide show of Frank's documentary bird photos. Frank's poker-faced expression makes his many calamities -- pratfalls and a near electrocution among them -- all the funnier; the production is a signal demonstration of how expressive puppets can be in the right hands. Equally ingenious is the rendering of puppet pigeons; it all comes together in a nightmare sequence in which Frank finds himself flying with the flock and later fleeing from an enormous pigeon rendered only by a pair of large bird feet. There's also a wildly imaginative moment with a pile of garbage that rises up out of a trash can to menace Frank. And when Frank's worst nightmares come true, in a way he never anticipated, forcing him into a battle with the elements, a deft company of puppeteers makes it all happen with remarkable skill.

Other key contributions include music by Freddi Price, lighting by Heather Sparling, voiceovers by Livingston, and puppeteering by Burnam, Nick Lehane, Lille Jayne, Andy Manjuck, and Rowan Magee. Marked by a brief running time and plenty of ingenuity, The Pigeoning is a clever cartoon for grownups and also entirely suitable for the smarter children in your house. If you happen to be feeling weighed down by holiday sentiment, it will provide a lovely countervailing blast of black comedy. Robin Frohardt is a real find. --David Barbour