by JAYNE M. BLANCHARD
THEATER CRITIC
St Paul Pioneer Press
April 9, 1996
Margolis Brown's "Vanishing Point" is exquisitely deliberate and spellbinding, a grandly visual and aural work that, curiously, resonates in the soul rather than the eyes and ears.
Not that there isn't a tsunami of things to look at and hear. Director/choreographer Kari Margolis creates, four distinct meditations on the paths we traverse and the baggage we carry, each with its own distinctive palette.
"Vanishing Point" begins with a weary businessman (Tony Brown), a Sisyphus in a gray flannel suit, who worms his way across the floor, eventually making his way to a set of ladders, which resemble an economic chart.
Alternately inspired and defeated by a soundtrack that includes motivational speeches by Dr. Norman Vincent Peale and Vanna White, Brown clambers up and down the ladders, dragging his briefcase along with him.
Brown's Willy Loman-esque journey is contrasted with a nomadic group, who appear to have walked out of the sea and don't know where to go next. Their dark wanderings are interrupted by a busload of gaudily dressed tourists barreling around the stage on rolling office chairs. Everything about them is coordinated - hats, shoes, gloves, coats, jewelry - except the details of their trip. They seem to be having a loud ball just going around in circles.
The next suite is shiveringly beautiful, rendered in stark black and white. Sets of characters, clad in crisp traveling outfits, explore the exterior trappings of travel - the hope and optimism you feel initially with a suitcase handle in your hand; the bone aches experienced when you realize you packed too heavily; the joy of being reunited with loved ones and the disappointment of not being met at your final destination.
The third suite begins with the ensemble costumed in earth colors, numbers affixed to their backs. Utter exhaustion oozes from every pore as they maneuver the rolling chairs in tired, lazy circles. There's a brief burst of energy as "Vanishing Point" does a winning parody of country music, with the troupe hilariously acting out the schmaltzy lyrics.
By the end of this segment, you don't know whether you're watching a dance marathon or victims in a concentration camp, but it's mighty disconcerting and affecting to see these people dance as if their lives depended on it while a bored, rich couple slowly circles them on rolling chairs and a cafe table.
"Vanishing Point" ends with the troupe lining up, lemminglike, to join Brown on the ladders. They are dressed to travel - hats, gloves, shoes - except that they're wearing slips or boxer shorts. Their faces are a splendid blur of emotions (disappointment, fear, elation) as they take their places in line.
By this time, the audience has been hypnotized by the repetition, by the precision and impeccable control of the Margolis-Brown ensemble. To see them so naked and uncertain at the end of "Vanishing Point" is devastating.
Watching the characters approach the ladders with a mixture of hope and resignation, one can only wonder: At what point of the journey am I?
WHAT: "Vanishing Point"
WHEN: Through Sunday
WHERE: Southern Theater, 1420 Washington Ave. S., MpIs.
TICKETS: $15