Ankhst

There are some shows that, like a disastrous vacation, become entertaining only in retrospect—and I have a feeling that I will be regaling listeners with horror stories from "Ankhst" for years to come.

An inexplicable revival of Clarinda Karpov's 1989 work (which was also produced in the 2005 New York International Fringe Festival), "Ankhst," with its lengthy flashback to ancient Egypt, allows for the kind of bad acting only John Waters could love, the kind that turns a not-great script into an incoherent mess. Simultaneously the story of disgraced archaeologist Alexandra Philips (Karpov) and King Tut's father, Akhnaton—deemed a heretic for becoming a monotheist—the sloppy production is overstuffed with ghostly visits to Alex from Akhnaton, belly dancing, screamed threats, mysterious breakdowns, and improbable twists. (The author took over the leading role when the original actor dropped out due to ill health a week before the opening.)

The only performer giving anything approaching an actual performance (you know, the kind of thing with nuance and inner life) is Karpov, even with just a week's rehearsal. Everyone else ranges from unintelligible to embarrassing. The shoddy physical production finds its best summary in a throw pillow tossed onto a cot during the portion of the play set in Ancient Egypt: The tags have been left on. And at one point an offstage actor hums for background music.

Suffering from an acute lack of imagination—why is the stage's brick wall, which serves as a stand-in for a hieroglyphics-covered tomb wall, left bare for the entire first act?—this production from Alternative Theater of Manhattan doesn't make a convincing case for the continuing charm of Karpov's play. In fact, you may wonder why anyone involved—including the audience—signed on.



Presented by Alternative Theater of Manhattan at the American Theatre of Actors, 314 W. 54th St., NYC. Feb. 17–March 6. Thu.–Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m. (212) 868-4444 or www.smarttix.com.