by Christopher Soden

Port Twilight is one of the most original shows I have ever seen.

Enjoying its world premiere at Undermain Theatre, Len Jenkin’s Port Twilight or The History of Science (A Chronicle of Folly, Wisdom and Madness) is a mélange of showbiz routines and techniques, a montage fobbing itself off as hodgepodge, but it coalesces and after all, half the fun of collage is the illusion of disparity. Orchestrating four different narrative threads interlaced with song, dance, metaphoric ruminations about the quirky, mystical town (a more jaded version of Grover’s Corners in Our Town?), Port Twilight is a distinctly playful and yet somber, introspective piece about the foibles and heartbreak of humanity, and its quest for solutions.

Some time is spent in the pursuit of demystifying science, making it cozy and comical and expressing it in various pop culture manifestations. From the singing and dancing lab-coated scientists with sunglasses, to the cheesy, sexy sci-fi exploitation film, from extraterrestrial transmissions to Daniel, the quintessential mad scientist who is irresistibly brilliant, goofy and glib, Port Twilight demonstrates how thoroughly and romantically science is woven into our culture. Sort of ... what? Stephen Hawking by way of David Lynch by way of the Catskills? There’s shtick and folklore and legend and pop music and enigma and exquisitely lyrical descriptions of stars, the future, disappointment, and the grubby dystopia we share.

Port Twilight seems to exist on the cusp of darkness, stuck in transitional time between day and night. Between revelation and what’s hidden. We are introduced to various archetypical members of the town : the femme fatale, the hurdy-gurdy man, the ingénue, the lecherous curmudgeon, the pontificating Rabbi, the schlock-meister film director, the aging movie star. When Daniel, the scientist is fired from his job at the lab, he’s hired as a script doctor for a low budget exploitation space opera verging on soft core porn. The play cuts back and forth between this and several other plots, as well as singing and dancing interludes.

At the quick of Port Twilight there seems to be man’s quest for knowledge, or more specifically, his need for answers. In the psyche of the scientist (and apparently we’re all scientists) you’ll find, not the mind of a technician, but a dreamer. A visionary. An oracle. While compulsively searching may seem preposterous (you never know what you’ll dig up) our destiny as humans seems to demand it. Science may improve the quality of our lives, it may alleviate suffering, but it will never solve all our problems.

Sometimes an epiphany blows up in your face. Some mysteries are unfathomable. The more you learn the less you know. Sit back and enjoy the ride. And so on. The beauty of Port Twilight lies in its capacity to explicate these aphorisms. To filter them through a kaleidoscope. It is one of the most original shows I have ever seen. It combines insouciance, weariness, zeal, cynicism, comic relief, melancholy, the indecipherable into a poetically wistful and radiant experience.

You gotta love Undermain Theatre’s limber, boisterous, mesmerizing cast, most of them playing multiple roles. They’re confident, canny, and share their ebullient energy, regardless of the content. A lesser troupe might have found this incorrigible (marvelous) lunacy daunting, but the cast of Port Twilight dives like a bungee jumper on a bender. Danielle Pickard is affecting without a trace of kitsch as Juliette, the young woman still ready to embrace optimism. Jessica Cavanaugh is spot on as the film diva making the best of her life with B-Film director Marty. Cavanaugh gives the role good-natured irony and warmth. Kent Williams will amaze you in five different roles including the crotchety, cranky motelier, Mr. Chang. Bruce DuBose as the Rabbi is sheer bliss. He gives the long-suffering character such humor, such yearning and pathos. Josh Blann as Daniel, the reprobate scientist is giddy, loopy and hilarious. How many actors could carry off hair that was coiffed in a Cuis inart? Blann has the mien to match the style.

Scenic Designer John Amone and his team (Linda Noland and Terry Hayes et al) charted new territory with their elaborate, pervasive (Haring and/or Basquiat inspired?) graffiti, white curtains and inspired phantasmagoria. And who is responsible for all those marvelous gizmos and gadgets? Lighting Design by Steve Woods creates just the right mood to transport us to the more fanciful side of The Twilight Zone. Giva Taylor’s costumes are superb, whether she’s dressing a seductress in black sequins and a black feather boa or an organ grinder from the realms of collective memory.

Christopher Soden is a theater critic who also writes for content partner The Column.

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