Dan Myers
“The Nails” is best described as a series of comedic bits, each as unexpected as the last.
The Nails is by far the most unconventional play I have seen in years.
When Doug Reed’s play begins, Kella Winter (Caitlin Robb) is stuck on an unspecified frozen wasteland with no way back home. Her only companion? Her stuffed penguin, Zylorc (Damon Butler), who has suddenly come to life. They soon stumble their way into desk jobs at The Corporation, a company run by talking animals. But that is just the tip of the iceberg of weirdness.
The first 30 minutes of the show had me reeling, struggling to figure out which direction this play was heading. When the silliness would not relent, I had to give in. Do not go to see The Nails expecting a straightforward story; spectators unwilling to suspend some disbelief will be blindsided by the absolute eccentricity of this show. And if you’re not paying attention, you could lose a limb to a certain hungry walrus. While I’m on the subject of walruses, I have to give a shout-out to Sam D. White for his engaging portrayal of antagonist Ralph Waldo, the Walrus.
Before I go too much further, I should highlight the unsung heroes of this production: the technical crew. In a black box theater, I never really expect too much in terms of light and sound, but The Nails far exceeds standard black box cues. The play has a ludicrous amount of technical effects, including laser fairies, multiple limbs being ripped off onstage and a very active romance between a couple of office appliances. Rosa Hernandez, stage manager and board operator for this production, deserves her own bow. I shudder at the sheer amount of technical rehearsal required to get this show up and running, and the fact that there were no major hiccups throughout the performance still amazes me. Cheers also to the cast members, who clearly have a blast executing all the ridiculous costume and prop effects. All of this was handled with competence by director Rob Matsushita, who approached this play with the humor it demanded.
If I were to attempt to wrestle this piece into a definitive form, I would describe it as a series of comedic bits, each as unexpected as the last. Some moments are tepid or miss their mark, and other moments are brilliant and charming (having the grisly torture chamber scene done as a projected “artist’s rendering” with stick figures is inspired). Broom Street’s website calls the play “Aesop on acid,” and I wholly agree. This is a fairy tale that refuses to say anything predictable.
