REVIEWS 2005 - "There Be Monsters"

Happy Haunting
by Robert Avila
Published in the San Francisco Bay Guardian October 26, 2005

“The Exit Theater Café is haunted at the moment, by the frankly strange intensity of Dan Carbone, and a trunk full of inanimate objects possessed by his fervid imagination.
Performer-playwright Carbone has been offering admittance to his modest little universe since 1995, and there's no denying the carefully crafted nature of these quietly outlandish vignettes (directed with loving attention by Joseph Graham), or the fiercely offbeat talent behind their secret stories, private little songs that must be sung, pussyfooting choreography, slide projections, and (with Malcolm Sherwood and Eliza Perkins) choice sound cues. Most of the promised menagerie in There Be Monsters! either gets drawn from the mysterious trunk at the foot of the stage (Wolf Baby, for instance), or walks through the door, like special guests Cow Man (John Bauman) – a surprisingly expressive figure in a plastic novelty head and flesh-colored unitard – and the doughy-faced life-size doll named Lori Ann (Jennifer Gwirtz) who, as the song has it, "has got a demon in her head."

Carbone's unchained subconscious delivers up these fondled toys and decorative items with an undiminished relish, like a do-it-yourself pagan's mystical communion with the hall closet, or a stylized version of some OCD-driven creativity spied in the studio apartment across the street. If There Be Monsters! can also create its own special monotony, there come fairly regularly and full-bore some gloriously off-key moments that match words and images in a heightened, koan-like banality – reminiscent, to me anyway, of something off a Nib Geebles wall calendar (but Google for yourself).”

Anti Establishment Meets the Hip
Article published in the SFist by Karen McKevitt: October, 2005

“Wow, it's been too long since San Francisco's seen a Dan Carbone piece. Well, maybe it's been a year or two--but that's still too long. You think your life is more than a little surreal? You think you're a freak? You think you've seen some rad, edgy theater? Then you haven't seen a Carbone show. He's been called the Billy Bob Thornton of San Francisco (courtesy of former SF Weekly critic Michael Scott Moore, to give credit where credit's due), and his latest offering features mechanical creatures like a monkey astronaut, a sleeping pig and a dead Elvis. Who cares about plot? He's got a mechanical dead Elvis! Dude, our heads are spinning. After a little foray into the land of multi-actor productions, Carbone returns to his solo performance roots with this little trip into the logic of dreams and the nature of childhood perceptions. The use of controlled substances may intensify this effect.”

There Be Monsters!
(A malfunctioning windup toy of a show, meant for adults but good for kids.)
By Chole Veltman
Review Published in SF Weekly Nov 2, 2005

“Dan Carbone's solo play is a malfunctioning little windup toy of a show. As assorted fluffy bunnies, stuffed Humpty Dumptys, and plastic astronaut monkeys fly around the minuscule Exit Cafe stage, Carbone half-sings, half-talks (or Sprechgesangs) his way through warped tales and ditties that aren't quite what you'd expect to hear on Sesame Street. A cross between Dr. Seuss and Freddy Krueger -- with a touch of Lewis Carroll thrown in for good measure -- Carbone is a big, bald man-child exorcising inner demons with a goofy grin and an old-fashioned trunk. The performance's eccentricities wear a bit thin after 30 minutes; even so, the beautifully orchestrated lighting, sound, and movement cues create an engrossing aura that makes you feel like you're in the middle of a waking dream. The production is meant for an adult audience, but I think There Be Monsters would appeal to kids -- and to those of us who spent our formative years ripping the heads off Barbie dolls or constructing My Little Pony abattoirs.”

Staged Readings
“Pick of the Weekend”
By Karen McKevitt

“And the winner this week is There Be Monsters at Exit Cafe. Why? Because it's Dan Carbone! I've already pushed this show over at SFist a couple of weeks ago (actually, almost a month ago!), but it's still playing, so go see it already! You've got until November 19. Carbone is a trip, a genius freaky trip.”

There Be Monsters - Dan Carbone Shares His Morphine
By Ed Brownson
Published in the SF Bay Times October 20, 2005
Ever had a shot of morphine? Truly one of life’s odder experiences. There you are, pinned to the hospital bed, watching. You can do nothing, interact with nothing, make sense of nothing: you’re just passive ectoplasm gaping at a demented universe unfolding around you.

Welcome to Dan Carbone’s universe. There Be Monsters, indeed.

This almost-one-man show, at the EXIT Café Fridays and Saturdays through Nov. 19, is near impossible to describe, but I’ll give it a go:

There’s this middle-aged guy, see? And he speaks in a squeaky voice except when he doesn’t; and he song-and-dances and plays with these dolls and stuffed animals which may or may not be “important” and then Cow Man appears and has to choose between Jesus and Jungle-Belle then stuff happens and Cow Man turns into a buffalo and more stuff happens and… isn’t that Elvis? And then… Jesus… Elvis…? I’m getting a little agitated here…

Ooooohhh… more drips down the morphine tube… happy now…
There Be Monsters feels like the Fringe show it is. Prowling a festival, our minds jarred loose from “expectation,” we happily oscillate from one odd and ridiculous “event” to the next hoping for a jewel. Monsters would be a refreshing find at a Fringe: something truly unique. No mistaking, there are wonders here. The most arresting is Laurie Ann—but I can’t say a word about her without spoiling the trompe l’oeil. The monkey-in-space story, which somehow manages to circle and reprise, is hilarious.

Carbone’s Elvis is one of the better you’ll see—definitely a morphine-drip Elvis—a decomposing icon of an expiring culture.

John Baumann and Jennifer Gwirtz ably assist on stage. Half way in—the show barely lasts an hour— the curtain closes on Carbone and his muppets. Meanwhile, sounds from behind the curtain suggest Carbone is deconstructing the Eiffel Tower. When the curtain finally reopens, we find absolutely nothing has changed. WTF????

In the end, a bit of narrative, a sprinkle of cohesion, would vastly improve it without damaging its waggish creativity.

Ok… we done now? A little more morphine down the tube, please… Ooooohhh…