| Spitting In The Face Of The Devil written and performed by Bob Brader directed and developed by Suzanne Bachner |
| Review by Martin Denton Spitting in the Face of the Devil is a gripping monologue in which Brader talks about his father (the “Devil” of the title) and how he has begun to come to terms with the legacy that Robert A. Brader, Sr., who died in 2003, left behind. Brader grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania where everybody loved his glad-handing Dad—everyone, that is, except Bob himself, who was systematically abused, physically and emotionally, by his parent from an early age. In the play, Brader tells harrowing tales about being beaten for wetting his bed and ridiculed for participating in school entertainments. This stuff is hard to listen to, but Brader’s confident, candid storytelling manner and his vivid, earnest writing keep us compelled throughout. It’s not just a litany of horrendous recollections nor is it the outcry of a helpless victim; Brader genuinely wants to understand his father and why he acted the way he did (notwithstanding the epithet he’s chosen to give him), and he wants us to understand too. Near the end of the show, when Brader shares that he recognizes more of his father in him than he’d like to admit (and talks about working hard to “exorcise the Devil”), we really appreciate the stakes for the playwright/performer, and the play feels even braver than it already has. Brader’s father had a deep dark secret that fueled much of his rage and misbehavior, and though it becomes easy to figure out what it was as Brader recounts his tale, it’s still definitely a doozy and won’t be given away here. But Spitting in the Face of the Devil is less a mystery story than it is a journey into manhood and, as I’ve already said, away from constrictive shadows of the past. Brader, a fine actor who has appeared in numerous works for downtown auteurs Suzanne Bachner (who directed and developed this show) and Frank Cwiklik, proves himself also a deft writer. Spitting in the Face of the Devil is rich with intelligence and humor, and shows off its author’ s broad range of talents neatly. (Brader demonstrates, for example, his nifty Paul Lynde imitation at one point.) It’s staged with simplicity, Spalding Grey-style, with just a desk, chair, and bottle of water. Brader creates the various characters in the show using spare mannerisms and differing voices. Overall it’s a gripping, elegantly conceived event. Brader’s conquest of his demons is probably still ongoing, and that fact lends his show a therapeutic feel (for him, I mean) that ongoing healing may diminish. He hasn’t put all of his father’ s story in this show, either because he doesn’t know it or doesn’t want to share it; maybe with more distance he can add that in as well, for deeper insight into the dangerously unhappy man who was the most important influence on Brader’s life and who is also the sad center of this drama could only strengthen both. |
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