Pity those who did not see the werewolf-themed Lýkos Ánthrōpos on Halloween night like this critic did, but there’s still the chance to see the show under a full moon on Nov. 15. The novel setting of the Congressional Cemetery alone is enough to make this a play worth seeing: Nothing sets the mood quite like traversing a cemetery in the dark until you stumble upon a circle of lanterns in a clearing. Pull up a blanket or a chair—you have to bring your own though.
There’s a dreamy, unreal feeling to the play, and not just because of the unconventional outdoor setting. Lýkos Ánthrōpos, the new site-specific play by local creator Bob Bartlett, takes its time filling in the pieces of the story and doles out details slowly. A lone figure sits on a box, where he is soon joined by another person who emerges from the darkness into the light circle. The two characters aren’t given names, but the script refers to them as Young Man (Nicholas Gerwitz) and A Stranger (Patrick Kilpatrick). They describe a nearby bar and how well they know the woods, but it’s unclear if they’re in reality with us or on some alternate plane. Their musings on the mythological and the lupine contribute to the otherworldly vibe. The Stranger tells a parable of a boy who ran away to live with wolves and describes the story of Lycaon, the king of Arcadia who was turned into a wolf. Both characters ruminate on the moon, and how they see it as a goddess, ruler, and protector.
The actors dance around each other verbally and spatially, and nearly every line could be read as a challenge, a put-down, or a come-on. As the play progresses, the verbal jousting becomes more pointed, and there are heavy sexual and romantic undertones to the hunter and prey (or dom and sub) relationship between the aggressive Stranger and the meek Young Man. The frequent mentions of the characters meeting up in the woods call to mind gay men’s cruising spots, and much of the dialogue reads (this is meant respectfully) like it’s right out of the script of a porno. “Maybe I wanna touch you. You like being touched?” the Stranger asks. The acts of werewolf violence described become erotic as well, with talk of tearing garments off and getting deep inside someone’s flesh.
The characters engage in games or role-playing throughout: in one of the loopiest bits, the Stranger demands that the Young Man howl at the moon, and he complies. At one point the Young Man cries out, “Help! I’m hurt in the woods! I’m bleeding,” trying to incite a chase and hoping to get caught. The thread does get a bit lost and the play gets a bit repetitive at times—much like a couple having the same argument over and over. (Perhaps it should have been titled Who’s Afraid of Virginia Werewolf?) The mind games eventually give way to a deeper connection between the two men, who need each other to affirm their own existence and fulfill their animal impulses. The Young Man speaks frequently of his loneliness and not wanting to be on his own in the woods, and tells his partner that “When you’re not there, I hide.”
The impact of the atmosphere can’t be overstated for this play. The limited space is put to good use: The two characters mostly stay in the makeshift theater inside the circle of lanterns, with moments when they call to each other, unseen in the darkness like a game of Marco Polo. Lighting an outdoor nighttime show could be a constraint, but it’s put to stunningly effective use. The actors manipulate the lights throughout, dimming or raising or snuffing them out completely. Fellow theatergoers’ faces are illuminated, giving it the feel of gathering round the campfire to hear a ghost story. It wouldn’t be totally surprising if the group broke out in a game of Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board, or better yet, the whodunit game Werewolf.
Lýkos Ánthrōpos, written and produced by Bob Bartlett and directed by Alex Levy, runs through Nov. 24 at the Congressional Cemetery. congressionalcemetery.org. $35.