Minutes before the lights go down for Kitchen Dog Theatre's “Love & Vinyl,” staff members set up chairs for 35 people. In the meantime, audience members browse the shelves of LPs at Good Records, the award-winning music store in East Dallas that doubles as the play's theater. Tickets are now sold out, and the production is in its final weekend.
When the lights come back up, Bogart (Jamal Sterling) comes into the store and begins browsing the records as customers would during the store's normal business hours. Stage manager Ruth Stevenson tells me before the play begins that potential non-fictional customers try to follow the actors through the same door, only to be turned away by strict fire codes. After all, the play's set pieces vary from location to location; the locations double as sets.
The story continues, and a few minutes later, Bogart is joined by his friend Zane (Max Hartmann), standing just a few feet from him as he rummages through the bookshelves himself. We soon learn that this is a weekly ritual for these old friends, but tonight Zane shows up after being dumped and says he “doesn't want to talk about it.” But when the shop's broken-hearted, repulsive owner, played heroically by Karen Parish, comes down the stairs of the shop, all the characters can talk about is relationships, heartbreak, and, of course, music.
Kitchen Dog's veteran actors make the most of Bob Bartlett's script, which reads like a poorly written first draft that someone might have written after seeing the film. High Fidelity Parrish in particular has the heaviest load, as the playwright reimagines the Manic Pixie Dream Girl for a middle-aged woman, with all its flatness, masculine fantasies, and incredibly nonsensical monologues. Under the direction of Christopher Carlos, who is as sharp as ever, Parrish gives it her all, but even her platinum-album-caliber acting can't overcome the hackneyed script. Meanwhile, Hartman and Sterling don't say much (even though they're talking about reimagining). Say anything Their enthusiastic actions add further energy to the work.
If we're to believe Curtain Call's word, this is Kitchen Dog Theatre's third and final touring production before moving to a permanent home in the northernmost Design District. After 25 years in Uptown and relying on real estate from backers, the company was homeless for a year before buying its own place in 2016 after an impressive fundraising campaign. But since then, the company has faced one obstacle after another in its move. In case you didn't know, theaters have been struggling even after the pandemic. Audiences, already dwindling before the world shut down, just aren't as big as they used to be, at least for art forms that require in-person attention.
This season started in a Triple-A ballpark, moved to a CrossFit gym and ended in a record store.
If all goes according to plan and funding stays on track, audiences will miss this year's adventure when the 34th season premieres in the fall, but hopefully we'll all be more settled in our seats and watching the same top-notch actors, albeit in scripts that might be a little easier to follow.
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