Storytelling Drives Grimy ‘Howie’

Though brutal in its content, “Howie the Rookie” by Mark O’Rowe gives off a certain intimacy, the type of personal closeness one might feel knowing the history behind a black eye. O’Rowe’s play is a cozy one, consisting of only two roles—two Irish brawlers who drive the play with their intertwining monologues. The structure is unconventional: rather than being viewed in real-time, the story of the play is recounted, told through mesmerizing and ricocheting anecdotes. Director Ali R. Leskowitz ’11—who is a Crimson arts editor—and the show’s two highly adept leads make full use of this format to capture their audience’s imagination, creating a play that pummels with nuance.

Entrenching itself in the underbelly of the Irish working-class, “Howie the Rookie,” which runs in the Loeb Experimental Theater from February 18-20 and 24-26, opens on a character lying on a mattress with a pulsating background of English electro. The scene is immediately reminiscent of the destitute nihilism explored in works like “Trainspotting,” the 1996 Danny Boyle film about drug addiction in Scotland. O’Rowe’s play explores the balance of masculinity, responsibility, and redemption working within this “chav” culture—imagine American Apparel hoodies or track jacket-type threads. Together, Howie Lee (Adam J. Conner ’14) and the Rookie Lee (Peter K. Bestoso ’14) weave a visceral picture of this gritty landscape, taking turns spewing reels of sharp and fiercely funny dialogue affected with Irish slang.

Though “Howie the Rookie” has only two actors, it boasts plenty of characters. Aside from the two avatars, names like “Ollie,” “Peaches,” “Mousey”, and “Gingerboy” populate the piquant world of the play. Conner and Bestoso narrate a brief span of days bouncing between decrepit bars and locales like “Video Vendetta” during which they have serendipitous and recurring run-ins with these characters.

The suspenseful plot, built more by each monologue, involves the Rookie’s attempts to redeem himself after stomping on a pair of fighting fish that belonged to “Ladyboy,” a savage figure rumored to have “three rows of teeth, like a shark.” As this central story unfolds, colorful encounters along the way flesh out the world of the play: on two hilarious occasions, Peaches’ “massive sister Avalanche” surprises Howie by grabbing his “flute” while he’s hitting the “jacks.”

Making the banter and anecdotes compelling is the key to the play’s wonder, and its two leads accomplish this with panache. The foremost recognition for the play’s success belongs to Conner and Bestoso, who do prodigious jobs portraying the down and out lads. The show is done in full Irish character, and Conner and Bestoso nail the accents impeccably, capturing the speed and snarl of the rhythm. The pair’s acute physical expressivity also gives motion to the monologues. Conner anchors the play with a graver, more tempered performance; Bestoso lends charm and élan to the role of the Rookie with a youthful face, smirking disposition, and odd lankiness. In a choreographed sequence representing the play’s first fight scene, he gives himself a forceful punch in slow motion, then speeds time back up to fall and immediately hoist himself up in a move befitting Michael Jackson. These surprising bouts of violence punctuate the story, appropriately amplifying the play’s cathartic moments.

Leskowitz has constructed a well-tuned vision. There is a great sensitivity to detail in the play, contributing to a natural yet dynamic atmosphere. A gorgeous set design, consisting of a rising frame of wood panels covered in graffiti, is evidence of this meticulousness. Scattered through the panels are pints of beer, a phone, and a toilet—“the jacks”—made brilliant by the actors’ discreet and seamless access to them.

The music, another vital backdrop, does not always serve the play as well. The array of electronic beats and ambiance that comprise the soundtrack, while inspired, is often gratuitous and overbearing in its frequent presence. At its best moments, it flares up naturally, pinning the audience to the Howie and Rookie’s plight; at many others, it enters and exits abruptly, only distancing the actors from their pulsating world.

Another mild improvement might be made in the play’s climatic pacing. The final moments crept up too swiftly, unbalancing the impassioned tenor of the ending. Yet when all the elements gel, the audience latches on to the play, grimacing and laughing all at once, as Conner and Bestoso spin their yarns. “Howie The Rookie” makes an epic of brawls and banter.