‘Wink’ @ Second Thought Theatre
Photos by Evan Michael Woods
—Jan Farrington
I like a play—not always, but at energizing intervals—that doesn’t wrap itself up in a neat bundle. One that leaves you on the sidewalk after the show, shaking your head and grinning: What was that?
Jen Silverman’s absurdist black comedy Wink is just such an animal. Making its regional premiere at Second Thought Theatre—directed by Jenna Burnett with a cast that’s the cat’s meow—Wink turns a stodgy domestic trope (bored husband and wife, wondering where the magic went) into a wild adventure about scratching and clawing your way to the life you truly desire—however odd that life may seem.
And a little cat shall lead them.
Though at six feet or so, Garret Storms as sexy, slinky, straight-talking Wink the Cat looms larger than that. Rescued from the streets by wife Sophie (Lauren LeBlanc), Wink has become an obsession—her pet, her security blanket, her beloved. This irritates controlling husband Gregor (Omar Padilla), who tries to cut Wink out of Sophie’s life. Only their mutual shrink, the less-than-helpful psychologist Dr. Frans (John M. Flores), knows what Gregor is up to, and he doesn’t share with Sophie.
If this is good marriage counseling, I'll eat my cat (er, hat): Frans seems unconcerned that the couple’s early feelings of attraction have “gone away” and left them sad. About their feelings, Dr. Frans advises a sensible course of action: ”Smash them down”—and try a nice vacation.
The rest of the plot, which wanders like a cat exploring a new neighborhood, is about how Sophie and Gregor don’t take the doctor’s advice—and end up, giddy with new emotions, in spots that suit their very different visions of a life lived well.
I blame Wink, who lurks around them all, exuding the glamor of the untamed id. He’s the stick of dynamite that blows up their dull, tidy world.
Frans is the only one fully aware that Wink is still around, but Sophie and Gregor feel the vibes. Storms is startlingly feline—rippling into a lazy stretch, rising suddenly from behind a couch, kneading a pillow with hands like talons. A street cat with one good eye, he watches the humans with cool interest, and is blunt to declare that his ways are better than theirs. “I sleep where I want. Shouldn’t you?” he asks Frans.
Gregor wonders if his fascination with skin and fur and wildness is leading him toward an “electric awareness” of his capacity for violence; just thinking about that seems to improve his mood. And with Wink gone AWOL, Sophie has unsettled dreams/visions of sounds in the night, and an invading, ravaging terrorist...who might perk things up for her. Even the doctor runs timidly wild, taking off socks and shoes in little strip-tease movements—to let his feet feel the ground. He’s egged on by the dangerously charming Wink, of course, who doesn’t see the point of clothing.
Justin Locklear’s suburban-house set design somehow belongs to both the couple and the shrink, though they never comment on the home share, which may be more psychological than real. (There only one stairway to an unseen bedroom, and they all use it—even the cat.) The exterior lines of the house are rimmed in color-shifting lights by Niels Winter, who also has a knack for pops of dramatic lighting, especially of cats and humans at a patio door.
The four actors lend Silverman’s dialogue a nice edge of drama and surprise—even when (as is often the case) we don't know where this cat-tale is going. You may well have a very different take on what playwright Silverman is doing and saying with Wink—and doesn't that make for exciting theater?
WHEN: June 26-July 13, 2024
WHERE: Bryant Hall (Kalita Humphreys Campus), 3400 Blackburn, Dallas
WEB: secondthoughttheatre.com
