Director David Lee reminds me that Audrey Olson directed the 1995 production of The Dream Express. Thanks, David.
Fringe review: ‘The Dream Express,’ The Per4mAnts, Orlando.
By Elizabeth Maupin
Say you’re driving long distances on back roads and you tune in to those comforting, other-worldly voices of late-night radio. Or say you pull into one of those anonymous back-roads motels, the kind that look stuck in the ‘60s, and you wander into the motel lounge.
That’s where you find the voices of Spin Milton and his lovely ex-wife Marlene, the dream-inducing, mind-expanding intonations that are the heart of Len Jenkin’s The Dream Express. As embodied by Joe Swanberg and Rebecca Fisher, they’ll take you for a ride.
Fisher, Swanberg and director David Lee first presented an earlier version of The Dream Express at the Fringe way back in 1995; that they’re all older and wiser only adds to the delight. Swanberg is a vision in bronze metallic shirt, silvery jeans and boots, his eyes hidden behind shades: You get the feeling his Spin has been on acid since he was 12, but no one could be so cool. Fisher, in proto-motel-lounge leopard-print and fishnets, provides the warmth to Swanberg’s languor, and her voice – one minute inflected with country, the next with the blues – is, as always, sensational.
What they’re singing, of course, makes them either very, very lame or very, very hip: “Let’s Get Physical” leads to “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy?”, and Milt has a way of turning every number into “Whiter Shade of Pale.” But so what if it’s hard to pin this couple down: Even as their motel lounge seems to keep changing its name, so do Milt and Marlene hover one step ahead of us on the road to cool. Catch them if you can.
Remaining shows: 11 p.m. Monday 5/24, 5:05 p.m. Thursday 5/27, 8:30 p.m. Friday 5/28, 3:20 p.m. Saturday 5/29. Yellow venue.