‘The Flick’ is beautiful study in human psychology
Simple interaction between three co-workers at a movie theater brings characters into focus
“The Flick,” by Annie Baker, teaches you how to watch this play as it goes along. It’s about three people who work at a dumpy movie theater. They talk, they clean popcorn out of the aisles, they sit down to rest in silence, they make jokes followed by awkward pauses, and so on, for about a threehour runtime. There are no monsters or vampires here, nor smoking guns, nor sweeping wartime backdrop, nor convoluted web of backstabs and revenge.
Instead, Baker invites us to sit back, let go of our usual desires for action and suspense and simply observe these three people go about their lives. We learn to watch the play like we’d watch a mountaintop — without expectation. It’s a calming, meditative feeling.
I don’t mean to suggest “The Flick” is avant-garde. The runtime, the warehouse venue, the experimental theater company that’s putting it on (Horse Head Theatre Co.’s production runs at Houston Warehouse Studios in the Near Northside through Dec. 15) and the fact that “The Flick” won a 2014 Pulitzer Prize in drama may lead one to believe that this play’s for hardcore theater lovers.
Nay, Baker’s deliberately unhurried, beautifully naturalistic study of human psychology is appropriate for any observer of behavior. She’s penned one of the most assured pieces of dramatic writing in recent years, trusting in her ability to reveal character through everyday speech, rather than rushing ahead to such predictable elements as drama, conflict, symbolism or complication.
That’s because even though large segments of the play will involve Sam (Greg Cote) arguing with Avery (Antonio Lasanta) about “Avatar” or playing six degrees of separation — a game in which you link two actors together using shared movie credits in six moves or less — there are always several themes regarding human behavior bubbling underneath. In fact, you can interpret the entire play as a story about power masquerading as a story about friendship and connection between these three people.
Sam is older, white and blue collar. He’s the one who likes “Avatar” and who speaks with the non-rhotic accent (as in “Avatah”) associated with the policemen, construction workers and townies of Boston.
Avery acts as Sam’s assistant. He’s younger and less experienced. He’s black, which means he needs to watch out for the movie theater’s skeezy owner, who he points out, smartly, is an older white man with a pickup truck. But Avery is a savant. He knows more about movies than anyone. He’s in a higher intellectual and economic tier than Sam. Listen in on Avery’s tone and word choice, and you can hear subtle insults layered within his deference toward his new friend and mentor.
Baker uses these characters to build two distinct narratives that run side by side — one about two losers becoming friends and one about two ends of the socio-economic strata rubbing against each other the wrong way. Consider, also, what the staging ( Jacey Little directs the play, and Torsten Louis designs the set) says about the third character, Rose (Avery Padilla), who operates the film projector.
She is located above Sam and Avery but at the same time behind them, which suggests she has a voyeuristic desire to be talked about without being confronted. She’s female and pretty and works with two lonely men, which means she stands to be treated as a goddess or an object — a complicated power position. She sports green hair, loose personal boundaries and alcoholism as a substitute for a personality.
Who’s more connected to whom? Who wields power over whom? Ask these questions as the play enters its third act and you will find multiple interpretations, based on minute details. I offer the above observation of the three characters as one of many possible takeaways from “The Flick,” whose simplicity belies a worldview laced with enough nihilistic humor to make David Sedaris proud. Both Baker and Sedaris point out that the world is drab and ugly and anticlimactic. They do it not to be defeatist but rather to celebrate the surprising and joyous moments all the more.
Despite its dark and grimy setting, you will not be depressed, bored (not in the spiritual sense) or disgusted with this play. Baker loves these three people and treats them with dignity, even when they appear to have none. Watching “The Flick,” I felt like I got to know three distinct friends over the course of several months, then due to circumstances (like a play ending), parted ways. That’s lot to accomplish in a mere three hours.