Probing Identity in Kinetic ‘CryHurtFood’

The physical movements of chimpanzees and their researchers are the last place where you would expect to find a haunting exploration of humanity itself.

In “CryHurtFood,” a tense and moving new play written and directed by Daniel J. Giles ’13, actors skillfully deconstruct the boundaries between human and ape through expressive modern dance. The play traces the life of Lucy (Mariel N. Pettee ’14), a chimpanzee, as she is shunted from a failed research initiative to an inhumane rehabilitation center and from there to a jungle island filled with wild chimpanzees and Janis (Margaret C. Kerr ’13), the last human researcher. Through all these locales, the play tracks the evolution of Lucy’s identity as she is manipulated by a series of scientists.

The cast is composed of only six actors, but their roles vary unpredictably along the entire spectrum between chimpanzee and human. A calm researcher in one moment is a thoroughly chilling, deranged chimpanzee in the next; a balloon twisting circus chimpanzee, silent in life, can offer lengthy verbal advice and narration from beyond the grave. Animal identity is fluid in the play, and humanity even more so. Both come and go unannounced, in a seamless and seemingly effortless performance by the entire cast.

In the chaos of a crumbling marriage in the wake of a baby’s death, researchers Maurice (Ben J. Lorenz ‘14) and Jane (Georgina B. Parfitt ‘13) perform an ‘experiment’ and attempt to raise chimpanzee Lucy as a human child. Not one of the three scientists involved in the process of raising Lucy can decide on a measure by which to judge the success of the experiment. Is a chimpanzee more human if it is totally obedient? If it can brew tea? If it can tell a lie?

No one criterion emerges from the milieu of opinions, but a color-coded wardrobe helpfully illustrates the divides. Researchers interested in humanity as mirrors of themselves wear vivid combinations of colors, like a hastily fixed rainbow-striped tie; researchers interested in controllable results wear professional clothing in muted colors. Chimpanzees similarly wear clothing to reflect their personalities, from a tie-dye leotard to business casual. While costuming coordination can seem heavy-handed, the stark division of color is helpful and perhaps necessary in a play ridden with shifting identites and opinions.

The actors’ finest moments are almost wholly physical rather than verbal. Pettee, Sam B. Clark ’15, and Kathleen S. O’Beirne ’15, who all play chimpanzees at some point in the production, gracefully and convincingly make the species switch—complete with gut-wrenching screeching. At one point Clark portrays a destructive, neurotic chimpanzee, throws large objects, and leaps several feet high in the air, all while screaming at the top of his lungs. His performance in this scene was deeply disturbing, especially after a first act filled with docile, fairly happy chimpanzees in human captivity.

Modern dance scenes choreographed by Pettee periodically arise between dialogues. These interludes serve to frighten, thrill, and connect audiences with the internal pain and suffering of the characters. Part of the play involves a trip downstairs to a dance studio for a more expansive dance and motion scene. Strobe lights flash, chimpanzee-actors scream, and tables flip—all less than two feet from the audience. The uninhibited movement and force in this production, especially in the confined setting of the Loeb Experimental Theater, convey the intense emotions associated with a struggle to find humanity better than any of the dialogue.

In one particularly poignant scene, Janis struggles to lift chimpanzee Lucy from a knuckled stance to mirror her own bipedal posture. Lucy cannot stand upright without the support of Janis, and both collapse to the ground several times. In the intimate space of the Loeb Ex, the thuds that the actors make as they slam into the stage, over and over and over again, are a nervewracking and profound physical rendering of the play’s central themes.