Poor Judge from Pig Iron Theatre Company
A quietly virtuosic and heartfelt cabaret featuring seven Aimee Manns
Poor Judge
Pig Iron Theatre Company
created and performed by Emily Bate, Alex Bechtel, Josh Machiz, izzy sazak, Jackie Soro, Dito van Reigersberg, and Juston Yoder
concept by Dito van Reigersberg
directed by Eva Steinmetz
continuing at the Wilma through September 22
Highly Recommended
A return to form for Pig Iron, and triumphant return for Dito van Reigersberg, who conceived of the show prior to a leukemia diagnosis in 2022.
Poor Judge is a tribute to Hollywood magic and Aimee Mann, a warm-hearted ode to when you have to figure things out on your own. Funny, sad, and warm. This is a dance theater cabaret that is, despite those three words, quietly virtuosic.
Dito van Reigersberg enters from stage left in a denim jacket and takes the stage. Barefoot, wearing a denim jacket and corduroy pants, he arrives at the mic, shaking his head “no.” “Aimee Mann is haunting me,” he says, and tells us a story about a breakup. His presence commands the stage. Six Aimee Manns enter, carrying folding chairs. One of them brings Dito a blonde wig and glasses. He puts them on, takes off the jacket and he, too, becomes Aimee. The band has taken their places. Music.
“I can’t do it
I can’t conceive
You’re everything you’re trying to make me believe
‘Cause this show is too well designed”
The story he tells keeps returning, told by a different Aimee, and the details change a little. It gets enacted for a film. It keeps evolving with each telling, until it’s completely different and there’s a film noir spy story being shot. But at its core, it's still the same story. “How, how am I different?” they sing, layers compounding between the scenes and the songs, with seven of the same person who all have their own stories of breakups and bad jobs. We all have our betrayals and tragedies.
Never rushed, always precise, the seven Aimee's glide through the 75 minute show making complex scene changes seem easy, seem like magic. I admire the level of craft here.
The songs are all great, of course, with fresh and unexpected new arrangements by Alex Bechtel, ranging from a full band, to just an instrument or two, to a capella.
Steinmetz‘s finds new staging for every number, and every scene between the songs. The moves—the work—required to get from one to another are pure theatrical magic, at least when they're not also Hollywood magic. There's no moment that becomes about moving big set pieces around, even when it's in the middle of a scene. Never calling attention to itself, there's a confidence and matter of factness about it which makes it all the more lovely. There is no trace of showboating.
Pig Iron makes it look simple. And often, it is, like when one performer guides another in an oversized costume off stage, or when all the musicians play while laying on their backs (which is simple, until it isn't). At other times the setups are complex, as when miniatures are being shot on video on one side of the stage, complete with miniature backdrop, and live-projected on the other, while the actors play the scene.
Or it's both simple and complex at once. Like a scene where Dito dances a duet with a surprise that I refuse to spoil. There’s the profundity in the mundane, and in the quiet work of accomplishing this show.
The magic is in no small thanks to the lighting design by Maria Shaplin, which keeps the focus even on the shifting and sometimes wide-open set by Maria Feuereisen. Several numbers are accompanied by dance routines with effective choreography by Chelsea Murphy. Nikki Delhomme’s costumes render each Aimee distinct among their sameness.
Poor Judge is heartfelt, gorgeous, and moving. As I try to finish this review, recalling opening night, I am deeply moved (distracting!) It’s also a timely show for Pig Iron, as the company is trying to figure things out following the abrupt closure and bankruptcy of University of the Arts, still soliciting donations for their bridge fund. They’re figuring it out on their own. You've got to figure it out on your own. We've all got to. Sometimes it takes a great breakup song to get over it and back on your feet. Sometimes it takes the remembrance that you’re not alone, that no matter how different we are, we’re the same; that someone out there has felt that thing you’ve felt, and they made it through.
I’ve made a playlist of the songs featured in Poor Judge for you.