THE FOOD CHAIN, Pygmalion Productions Theatre Co., Browning Theatre, Ogden, through Oct. 19 (399-9214). Running time: 1 hour, 35 minutes (no intermission).
OGDEN — Lurking somewhere in this montage of dirty words (there are quite a few) and fairly graphic sexual content (descriptive dialogue and some sensual groping), there are five completely dysfunctional characters all searching — usually in the wrong places — for answers to their various conundrums.
"It's a riddle," explains Amanda to Serge near the end of the play, when he has a perplexed look on his face after she uses the world "conundrum" to describe what's happening in her life.
When Pygmalion Productions says this play is for "adults only," it's absolutely right.
But Nicky Silver's script is also outrageously funny and insightful, especially when it zeroes in on peoples' fragile psyches.
There are five characters, all of whom end up being connected through a series of wild twists and turns.
Amanda Dolor, a high-strung and anorexic poet, calls a New York City crisis hotline to report that her husband has been missing for two weeks, casually mentioning that they've been married for three.
The hotline operator, Bea, is an abrasive and outspoken woman with problems of her own. She's also miffed because she's been bumped to the graveyard shift after one of her callers jumped out of a window.
When Amanda mentions that her ex-boyfriend recently committed suicide, Bea asks, "Was it last Tuesday or Wednesday?"
Amanda replies that it was a few weeks earlier, and Bea says, "Oh, good, it wasn't my fault."
In the hands of the wrong director, or with an inept cast, "The Food Chain" could easily be a mess. Silvers' script is cutting edge, with a razor-sharp "absurdest" slant, and it takes just the right mix to make it work.
Jerry Rapier (of Plan-B Theatre Company) is guest-directing a well-honed ensemble of very good players.
Barb Gandy is well-cast as Amanda, who rambles on and on, occasionally painting herself into a verbal corner. Like the others, she harbors a deep, dark secret.
Nancy Roth is hilarious as the easily offended crisis hotline operator. If someone's having problems, she can match them with woes of her own. So deal with it.
Larry Ganz has the weightiest role in the show as Otto Woodnik, a huge, blubbery, overweight tornado, spinning wildly out of control. His constant nibbling on junk food in his tote bag might make you hungry. (When his father was on his deathbed in the hospital, Otto pulled the plug . . . not on the iron lung; the TV: "It's so rude for a patient to be watching television when they have visitors.")
Chris Stauffer, who fits the bill, plays Serge, a preening, coldly aloof and handsome runway model for Calvin Klein underwear. He's gay but swings both ways.
Then there's Amanda's husband, Ford Dolor, played by Equity actor Joe Welsch. Ford is the strong, silent type. Mostly the latter. He mumbles "uh-huh" a couple of times but mostly does walk-ons.
Somehow, all of their disparate entanglements are sorted out — more or less — at the end.
Sensitivity rating: Considerable profanity, sexual dialogue and sensual activity; there is no nudity.
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