PW Presents: The Flick

It's difficult to recognize how much of our reality we abandon when we enter a theater. Growing up in an era (over)populated by representations of our own lives, we seem to have an innate ability to willfully suspend our disbelief. Our objective perspective of life can't help but resemble a series of Vines; quanta of experience comprehended as six-second detachments from silence.The Flick, directed by Sam Rubinek '17, doesn't just make you notice this incongruity. It sits you down at a dinner table for two with it and makes you realize you never want to call it back.  Brought to PW by Rubinek for of its potent display of realism, The Flick uses colloquialism, pace, and resolution in a way eerily but refreshingly similar to everyday life.The show follows a series of conversations between three movie theatre employees. Sam (Peter Bowden '16) is a veteran usher, showing his awkward new co-worker Avery (Brad Weekes '17) the ropes. Rose (Emma Miller '16) is their projectionist, and the three continuously agonize over the incompetence of their boss Steve, whilst dealing with their own depressions and successes.Upon entering the theater, I couldn't help but almost sit on the stage, as it reflects the audience. This setup necessitates a feeling of eavesdropping, as if I am watching the characters act on the other side of a one-way mirror, where they think they are alone. Since the set is a dingy movie theatre, this feeling is made somewhat explicit by placing the audience behind the perspective of the "screen."  The set is extremely simple, yet your orientation to it not only gives you a powerful sense of intimacy with the characters, but an unsettling sense of self awareness. In fact, whenever the characters in the show sit down to watch a movie, a representational escape from their reality, they sit in silence, watching the audience. The projector at the back of the theatre even shines on the audience to accentuate this effect.The Flick has been criticized for its length (it's over three hours), and it's use of persistent silence is definitely its most lengthening element. However, the mindset that begs for a more utilitarian use of show time, and faster access to "actual events and dialogue" is exactly what Rubinek hopes to challenge. The pace of life doesn't consist of dialogue and action with brief interims of silence, but rather thoughtful silence pierced by sound.That being said, mostly silent depictions of humdrum life can be torturous if not acted with scrupulous nuance. Realism requires actors who feel more like people being themselves rather than characters. The performances by Bowden, Miller, and Weekes are so genuine they feel like audience members who accidentally sat on the stage. Their body language, rhythm, and tone seem precisely spontaneous, demonstrating rigorous devotion to character development by the actors and Rubinek alike.The presentation of The Flick will change the way you look at theatre, but it will also give you a new way to see dramatic topics in all media. A vast array of topics–racism, sexism, jealousy, and suicide–just to name a few, arise in an organic way, as they do in real life, without any sort of resolution planned to teach the audience something about the world. This non-instructional, immersive way of confronting with these issues is a feat of great writing, and makes the show highly accessible to anyone who wants to draw their own conclusions about their lives. Nothing is forced upon your intellect. This soothes the viewer, as one can easily apply their own interpretation to the material.The Flick opened last night, Friday, April 8th, and runs through Monday, April 11th.  Performances are at 8 p.m. tonight and Monday, and 2 p.m. and 8 p.m. Sunday. Tickets are free and are available at the PW box office one hour before the show.  Image via.