by Ron Hubbard | May 19, 2022
It sounds silly at first blush. Yes, there are people who not only like to pretend that they’re playing rock guitar for arenas full of cheering throngs. What rock lover hasn’t done that at some point? But they actually compete against others for who does it with the greatest sense of style, realism and creativity.
Now if I tell you that there’s a play about a community of said imaginary guitar players who converge upon competitions around the country, you would be correct in assuming it’s a comedy. But it’s also a really well-crafted play, full of richly detailed characters with offbeat wisdom to share about getting in touch with yourself and your tribe.
“Airness” is currently receiving its Twin Cities premiere in Park Square Theatre’s first production since the pandemic’s arrival. Written by Chelsea Marcantel, it was among the most heralded new plays of late last decade, and Park Square’s production makes clear why. A topic that could invite derisive laughter instead inspires compassion for a group of people who may be linked by the act of pretending, but are some of the most real characters you may find on a local stage this year.
In the director’s chair is a veteran Twin Cities actor with a reputation for crafting vivid characters, Angela Timberman. Her clearly committed cast lends a verite vibe to a story centered around a seemingly absurd pursuit. And Marcantel has a marvelous ear for speech, both in the competitors’ banter and in captivating monologues when they set down their invisible guitars and talk about what truly drives them.
The plot unfolds over a series of regional air guitar competitions, newcomer Nina acting as our everywoman learning the tricks of the trade and finding acceptance within a supportive community of high-energy pantomime practitioners devoted to “melting faces and breaking hearts for 60 seconds.”
Yes, that’s how long you get to impress judges in an air guitar competition. And each of these artists seeks to not only wow spectators but tap into something deeper about what they want to tell the world (or at least a bar full of people) about themselves.
Nina gradually comes into her own with the guidance of analytical “Shreddy Eddy,” flamboyant “Golden Thunder,” open-hearted “Facebender,” and disdainful but eventually big-sisterly “Cannibal Queen.” They’ve become among the elite in their discipline with the help of tracks from the Ramones, Billy Idol and Queen, among others. Despite their posturing in the spotlight, they’re a vulnerable crew, and we come to see why this form of catharsis is so important to each of them.
Julia Valen’s Nina proves a fine guide to this milieu, endearing but occasionally explosive. And each of the others seizes at least one scene to command the stage. Such as when Daniel Petzold’s Facebender speaks of how a job dealing with death forced him to re-examine his life. Or Neal Skoy’s Shreddy Eddy poetically explains what Tom Waits’ “I Don’t Want to Grow Up” means to him.
If there’s a villain in this story, it’s Eric “Pogi” Sumangil’s “D Vicious,” who won the national championship last year, but is now turning a cold shoulder to his former support network. Yet he invites sympathy when we watch an endorsement opportunity shred his self-esteem.
But each actor offers a layered portrayal ideal for Marcantel’s pitch-perfect writing. Clad in the eye-catching costumes of Ash M. Kaun, they prove very enjoyable company, and may even inspire you to examine if you have enough self-expression in your life.
