Elias Taylorson as Barry Champlain. Photo by Marc Rouse.

Elias Taylorson, with Meridith Morton and Tony Martin. Photo by Marc Rouse.

Elias Taylorson and Meridith Morton. Photo by Marc Rouse.

From left: Elias Taylorson, Meridith Morton, Joey Folsom, Tony Martin. Photo by Marc Rouse.

  

Talk Radio

by Eric Bogosian

Presented by Upstart Productions and Project X: Theatre

October 28 - November 21

at The Green Zone
161 Riveredge Drive
Dallas, TX 75207
877-238-5596

$15

8pm Thursdays-Saturdays & Nov. 4; 2:30pm Nov. 8 & 15
Runtime: 100 minutes with no intermission

Is it too early to call Upstart Productions' staging of Eric Bogosian's Talk Radio the show of the year? Well, yeah, perhaps, considering there are still two months left in 2009. But while October delivered serious contenders for that prize at WaterTower Theatre (Grey Gardens), African American Repertory Theater ("Master Harold"...and the Boys) and Contemporary Theatre of Dallas (Rabbit Hole), Talk Radio moves to the front of the pack.

It's a gutsy play, done up in an unfussy yet meticulously detailed staging (directed by Regan Adair, in a co-production Project X: Theatre), with fearless performances by everyone involved—including actors who play characters who are onstage for much of the show but have virtually no speaking lines, and others who are heard but never seen.

This is balls-out riveting theater.

Eric Bogosian had written plays and one-man shows, but 1987's Talk Radio was his breakthough, a drama inspired by the true story of Alan Berg, a controversial Jewish radio host in Denver who was murdered by neo-Nazis. Oliver Stone made a film of Talk Radio in 1988, and opened up the story to be more about the life and death of Berg. For the Stone version, the setting was Dallas (it was also filmed here).

The play, set in a Cleveland radio station in the mid-'80s, offers a glimpse at one night in the life of shock jock Barry Champlain (Elias Taylorson), whose popular call-in show is preceded by a boring-sounding money program and followed by a show that gives psychological advice. Apparently, there are a lot of help-seeking people out there in radioland, also known as America.

In the intermissionless play, Barry takes calls from a variety of late-night characters, ranging from lonely folks who just want to talk and prankster teenagers to harmless xenophobes and threatening hatemongers.

There's not much of a plot, except for a storyline involving one of the show's producers, Linda (Meridith Morton), who once had a sexual relationship with Barry and obviously wants more from him; and another with station president Dan (Shane Beeson), who wants to take the show into national syndication. Both of those threads give some insight into the mind of Barry, but not as much as the calls he receives and his responses to them. He's a complicated quilt of a man whose patchworks include megalomaniac, fragile boy, intellectual, soundboard, instigator and caring human being.

Unlike the movie version, the play never deals with his death, but it certainly creates characters who could manage such a murder. Ingeniously, the play includes one suspenseful moment, though, which is made even more heart-racing by the fact that Barry is tethered by his earphones and radio mike, and the other characters in the same scene are basically rendered useless behind the glass walls on the other side of the studio.

It's an amazing feat that a play with a setting that limits actor mobility feels like one of the most action-packed and stimulating productions in recent memory. This has much to do with Adair's eloquent direction. Among his touches: Barry's radio show staff—in addition to Linda, there's Stu (Tony Martin) and Spike (Darren Steptoe)—continually and believably do their behind-the-scenes work and office functions as they react to Barry's callers and his responses.

The viewer is immersed in this world of 1980s radio, bolstered by Joel and Scott Bayer's excellent set, with period-appropriate computers and equipment; Kari Heyne Engelbrecht's dead-on costumes; and Mason York's sound design, which includes pre-show radio commercials from the period (although technically, Wendy's short-lived "Give a Little Nibble" jingle came a few years after the New Coke marketing ploy of 1985).

The performances in the satellite roles are all nuanced and honest, with Joey Folsom making a particularly memorable turn as hyper, doofy teenager Kent, one of the listeners who shows up at the studio and is put on the air with Barry for a few minutes. That's the moment where the playwright demonstrates that while every person thinks that he or she could do a certain job, they really couldn't. Even better are the callers, voiced by nearly all of the actors in the supporting cast. Standing out among those is Lulu Ward, a wonder with voices who creates several very different types through diverse and humorous vocal characterizations.

None of this would come together, though, without a Barry who has quick instincts, the ability for rapid-fire delivery and a vocal presence that fills the room and commands attention. Taylorson has those traits in spades. His performance is a marvel of mental acrobatics. He captures every verbal millimeter of the sharp-tonged shock jock, nailing the complex rhythms that come with listening and responding to unseen characters and mixing it with the business of working a radio show—quickly glancing at the computer to see who's calling, answering calls and hanging up.

Many of his callers are confused, lonely, bored, angry and/or desperate for attention, and this Barry has been there and done that. Whether he relates, he's honestly looking for stimulating conversation. It's what he thrives on. He's in a powerful position as a voice that some look up to, others despise and too many misunderstand. Slowly, these things contribute to an ongoing meltdown.

The play leaves his future up in the air, but there's no question that Barry Champlain will always have his voice heard, in one way or another.

Upstart has devoted its 2009-'10 season—its second—to this playwright (the spring production will be subUrbia). If their goal is to do Bogosian proud, they're off to an extraordinary start.

Stick around after the performance and catch an 18-minute video that Upstart created, called Life After Death: The 25th Anniversary of the Assassination of Alan Berg. In it, Taylorson interviews Berg's widow, Judith, and Stephen Singular, author of Talked to Death: The Life and Murder of Alan Berg. Talk about doing your homework.