The Walworth Farce

Enda Walsh's wildly eccentric play initially suggests it's a vaudevillian farce, yet there's something unsettling in the air, like a bizarre dream in which the incidents don't quite mesh. In a shabby London flat, middle-aged Dinny (Tim Cummings), sporting an ill-fitting shaggy wig, plays a tape of a classic Irish lullaby. One of his sons, Blake (Cameron J. Oro), clad in his underwear, irons a dress over a large cardboard carton, then puts on the dress. Blake's brother, the fidgety Sean (Adam Haas Hunter), looks into the shopping bag he carries in, panicking when he discovers that it contains only a large sausage. In short order, the sons begin changing costumes, wigs, or accessories as they instantaneously shift to portraying myriad characters. The broadly comic tone gradually changes to ominous, as absurdist influences of Ionesco or Beckett become evident. Yet Walsh's creative vision is original and compelling. Director Tim Byron Owen's production is a mostly effective realization of this complex play's considerable virtues.

Behind the frenetic goings-on is a tragicomic portrait of a shattered family, headed by a father attempting to salvage a semblance of emotional serenity for his brood, after leaving his wife in Ireland for unexplained reasons. The patriarch forces his sons to join him in ritualistic enactments of scenes from the family's homeland-playing themselves, relatives, and other characters. These goofy charades become terrifying when it becomes clear that Dinny's pent-up rage can turn on a dime, while Sean and Blake exhibit psychological quirks of their own. The family lives in a near-agoraphobic state. Walsh's political subtext suggests the long-standing bloodshed and terror imposed on Ireland by Britain as a key source of the family's paranoia. When a black grocery clerk (Brie Eley) innocently stumbles into this domain, the dangers within the warped household escalate, leading to a startling climax.

A triumphant ensemble effort deserves congratulations. Though the Irish accents are imperfectly delivered, the actors compensate with multilayered characterizations. Hunter and Oro excel in their split-second character shifts, each offering powerful depictions of the alternately ruthless and compassionate instincts of the brothers. Cummings delivers a tour-de-force performance as the tyrannical patriarch, illuminating the man's conflicting emotions. The fear and astonishment of the superb Eley's clerk reflect the audience's view of the deranged household. This determinedly unconventional play won't satisfy all audiences. Yet, for those willing to grapple with its sometimes confusing trajectory, it provides a deeply moving and intellectually stimulating ride.

Presented by Theatre Banshee at The Banshee, 3435 W. Magnolia Blvd., Burbank. July 30–Sept. 4. Fri.–Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m. (818) 846-5323. www.theatrebanshee.org.