A frail woman sits in a darkly lit living room surrounded by glasses of half-finished liquids. The clock ticks in the background, and Lemon (Rebekah Ward-Hays) spends the last of her days entertaining herself with books about Nazis whom she finds refreshingly honest. As she puts it, everyone has a part of them that enjoys killing, only people in polite society never discuss it.
Matthew Reeder's adaptation of Wallace Shawn's play unfolds in the intimate basement stage of the Chopin Theatre. Sofas and tables extend the stage well into the audience space, furnishings that make the living room feel as comfy as your grandmother's nook. Gathered around Lemon's armchair, we hear stories from a childhood infatuation with Aunt Dan, whose life Lemon knows as well as her own.
Aunt Dan (a captivating Brenda Barrie) is far from a sympathetic character, but she allures the audience with a series of eloquent, logical arguments, which she uses to justify everything from Henry Kissinger's ruthless politic of dominance to her many dubious affairs. As a result, the show becomes less of a rant about power, injustice and the limits of human compassion; instead, it's a curious love story - and an absolutely unsettling account of an unlikely monster.
