Clark and I initial review

Beginning with the monotonal, sadistic opening anecdote relating the death of an infected puppy as it smacked into a brick wall, Clark and I Somewhere in Connecticut was different. And nothing says different like a narrator dressed in a bunny outfit, sometimes head on, occasionally narrating head off. The performance was clearly designed to have no fourth wall, which became apparent from the moment that the narrator took a picture of the audience in the opening minutes of the play. This spectacle, the audience watching the bunnyman, and the bunnyman watching us, and the displaying of our picture on the screen set the tone for the voyeuristic aspects of the performance. There was never meant to be a fourth wall. An audience member, as I occasionally did, could peer into a booth and watch the bunnyman's technical assistant flip switches to cue video, music, or other displays. We could watch him focus or rip away a picture from the projecting lens on the table. And the voyeuristic aspects stretched beyond this, as the narrator leads one to believe that one is viewing the picture's of someone else's family. People you don't know, and before now, never cared about, pop up in front of you. But now, somehow, you do care about these people. The bunnyman relates the story of their existence sometimes through anecdotes, and other times by displaying their lineage. But what is clear, is that this is a family. Maybe like yours, maybe not. And then, suddenly, there is a revelation. This is not the Green family that we observed distantly but attached. This is the bunnyman's family. And perhaps he is more than just a man in a bunny suit.