The first rule when attending FUERZABRUTA, the new visual presentation by the creators of De La Guarda, is “come to have FUN” and accept the designation as naturally personal. During the 104th performance of the avant-garde, visual tour-de-force, however, not everyone had fun.
There was the stout, middle aged, Jersey woman sporting a fancy purple jewel-encrusted v-neck, wandering into the theatre. She has just learned from her friends that she would not sit in an assigned seat, but stand throughout the performance.
She asked, “You mean people are going to be touching me?!?”
Then, of course, there were her claustrophobia issues. Mayhem ensued as she was doused in water from the DJ’s rain machine and blasted with paper and wind whilst being shuffled around the room to avoid various emerging jutting stage fragments. She simply did not enjoy the performance very much.
Thank goodness 256 other people who stood in the seemingly empty warehouse space had been better briefed. For what played out for them was a stunning, high-energy opportunity for tribal renewal, buried deep within the angst of corporate culture. For those whose brain was on cruise control from an overloaded week, FUERZABRUTA was a wet “wet dream,” leaving them cleansed, breathless and joyfully exhilarated. That is, if that’s what they came for.
The New York production at the Daryl Roth Theatre, which premiered last October, is the latest offering from Diqui James. Like the show’s wildly successful older sibling, it was developed in Argentina with subsequent franchises in Europe. The new show’s return to NYC has been a much anticipated event. FUERZABRUTA provides an opportunity for audiences to jump, thump and bump away the constraints of everyday cubicle life.
The show opens with our white collar hero on the treadmill of life, alternating between running and walking, bursting through walls of bureaucratic paper and absorbing bullets. Joe White-collar falters and stumbles, but he never falls. With capitalistic fervor, he peels off his bloodied shirt to reveal a fresh button-down. He is the man who has just watched the market drop 500 points, but he has returned with coffee in hand the next morning, hoping to still be granted his corner office.
The tale is timed at the end of a work week, into the weekend and back to the Sisyphean-tasked Monday morning. The FUERZABRUTA cast emerges as fellow coworkers to help guide you in the celebration that is known as “WEEKEND.”
FUERZABRUTA is a 65-minute rollercoaster ride that is wildly unhinged to the tracks, and synched with tribal beats. Interspersed with haunting visuals of taunting, spinning and suspended angels, trapped lovers on a massive and frenetic “satellite dish.” and the explosion of an unequivocally non-paperless office, FUERZABRUTA’s choreography and music construct a carnival-esque fervor throughout the entire space, allowing the audience to become the show.
The most surreal visual culminates in a giant see-through waterbed that levitates and lowers overhead, carrying a team of sea-nymphs frolicking and taunting above. It’s the equivalent of watching PR girls, who sit around sipping cosmos, actually dive-bomb in a levitating pool of libations. Witty puns and observations are replaced with more telling physical thrashing and erotic body-slamming inches above the audience’s heads. It’s Burning Man meets “Sex in the City.”
The strange irony of FUERZABRUTA’s simplistic story is the blatant depiction of mankind’s hamster-wheel existence. Like Hamlet hiring the players to put on an accusation morality play, what is playing out is our ability to be good soldiers who still crave moments of pure abandon. Scream therapy for frustrated 9-to-5ers. Theatergoers, who come with the desire to participate more and observe less, will leave with the moral of the story and blood pumping through their veins. And that, for so many, can be defined as fun.
Also, look for upcoming “Boy’s Nights” in the Spring.
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