Representing the triumphant return of the Iron Crow Theatre after their long pandemic hiatus, Mankind – written by Robert O’Hara, and directed by Ann Turiano – is a bold and beautifully-presented madcap satire that throws stones at such formidable topics as religion, anti-abortion legislation, and an upside-down world where “FEMINISM!” is a battle cry while women themselves are an afterthought.
This frenetic cyclone of ever-escalating absurdity takes place in a future where women have been extinct for over a century, men have adapted to impregnate each other and further the species, and abortion is considered murder by the state. In this setting, casual hook-up buddies Mark (Max Johnson) and Jason (Jake Stibbe) suddenly find themselves in a “delicate condition,” as Jason reveals he’s pregnant and Mark is the father. What begins as a furtive attempt at terminating the pregnancy spirals into incarceration, a miracle birth, and the founding of a ridiculous new faith in which these clueless dudes find themselves the unwilling focal points of worship.
This show presents a flurry of rhythmic wordplay and physical comedy that keeps it from being heavy-handed or pretentious – even when the piece ventures into the realm of the poignant, it manages to maintain an excellent balance (and a baseline of humor) to keep it from tripping over itself.
The themes on display here are enormously broad, and in many ways they’re handled broadly. But that broadness has its own strange intellect at work, just like the comedy of Mel Brooks or Monty Python: People who are smart enough to be properly silly without being stupid. Indeed, it’s hard not to detect a strongly subversive flavor of The Kids In The Hall throughout the show.
A lot of that may be the result of the nuanced yet balls-to-the-wall character work of the performers surrounding the two leads. These four men – David Forrer, Doug Krehbel, Nicholas Miles, and (in the opening night performance) Lucius Robinson – swing from one hilarious character to the next as deftly and confidently as Tarzan going from vine to vine. Each one uses his verbal and physical toolbox to its fullest and most precise extent and combined with the brilliant Kubrick-on-a-budget costumes of April Forrer, it creates a colorfully lurid parade of nonsensical figures. Robinson seems like the kind of deliriously nutty countercultural live-wire who would have been a staple of Cheech & Chong movies. Krehbel might have thrived playing ludicrously-stolid squares like Sterling Hayden’s General Jack D. Ripper in Dr. Strangelove, while it is equally easy to picture Miles lending his brassy and mercurial energy to the early films of John Waters or Andy Warhol. Forrer is as deliciously dry and hammy as an impeccably-aged jamon iberico (or as the late, great Harvey Korman, for that matter).
And then, of course, there are the leads themselves. Johnson portrays a himbo with a soul, projecting the cocky air of Glenn Howerton while allowing his vulnerability to shine through as well. Stibbe, meanwhile, perfectly channels the bumbling, wide-eyed, voice-cracking neurosis of a young Rick Moranis. Stirred into this mix is a hefty macho protein-shake scooper of the chest-thumping “clueless bros” chemistry found in early-’00s stoner hits like Dude, Where’s My Car? and Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle. Not just any duo can make that sort of thing watchable, let alone memorable. These two definitely complement each other well.
At the risk of belaboring the Kubrick references, the ingenious set design of Bruce Kapplin is a miracle of industrial understatement in the vein of A Clockwork Orange. Likewise, the lighting and sound designs of Thomas P. Gardner and Jane Schwartz, respectively, are profound and precise – it’s amazing how much they manage to accomplish, and with how little.
Turiano clearly runs a tight ship, lending an attention, precision, and inspiration to this show that has been sorely lacking in much of the city’s theatre scene. The blocking is considered, and every element seems as though attention has been paid to it. Mankind feels like something bigger, more professional, and more profound than has been on display here for quite some time. It’s Baltimore theatre – and more importantly, new, interesting, and memorable theatre – at its best.
Running Time: 2 hours with one intermission
Mankind plays through October 23, 2022 with Iron Crow Theatre in residence at Baltimore Theatre Project— 45 W. Preston Street in the Mt. Vernon district of Baltimore, MD. Tickets are available by calling the box office or in advance online.
To read the interview with Director Ann Turiano, click here.
