Dwelling stories reflected in play

‘Home’ inspired by Buster Keaton of silent film fame

The centerpiece of “Home,” a festival in itself of mixed performing arts rolled into one and opening on Wednesday as part of the International Festival of Arts & Ideas, is the raising of the play’s eponymous set. One may reasonably assume that Geoff Sobelle, the creative force behind “Home,” grew up watching the 1954 film “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.”

“Actually, it was Keaton,” said Sobelle, who performs “Home” with his small army of collaborators (and fresh recruits from the audience) through Saturday at University Theatre.

Lest any “Beetlejuice” fans are just now joining us, the Keaton in question is Buster Keaton, who achieved immortality in his silent films of the 1920s. Sobelle feels a strong kinship to Keaton, whom he described as “an engineer, clown, illusionist and a poet.”

“Keaton has been a part of my life forever,” said Sobelle. “I kind of grew up on silent films and ‘The Little Rascals.’ Really, because I found them on my own, and it’s always been a huge point of departure.”

Directed by Lee Sunday Evans, “Home” examines our perception of ownership, hospitality and coexistence. Sobelle and castmates create a house out of wooden frames and illusion designer Steve Cuiffo’s craft. Soon the house becomes a home for Sobelle and myriad dwellers, including volunteers from the audience.

“Home” premiered two years ago at Philadelphia FringeArts Festival and has played around the world before arriving in this summer’s Festival of Arts & Ideas. It follows a growing line of surrealistic shows that Sobelle, a member of the Society of American Magicians, has created with colleagues from Philadelphia’s Pig Iron Theatre Company and his own rainpan ’43 performance group.

Among Sobelle’s credits are “Elephant Room,” “machines machines machines machines machines machines machines,” which made sport of modern technology through Rube Goldberg contraptions, and the Laurel and Hardy-inspired “all wear bowlers.” Sobelle, an English major at Stanford University, also trained in physical theater at École Jacques Lecoq in Paris, which serves Sobelle’s acutely physical, silent film style well.

“The thing I always loved about (Keaton) is a certain recipe for absurdity, or absurdism, where you take one thing and it just keeps growing and growing and growing,” said Sobelle, readily citing the snowballing cow stampede in “Go West’ (1925) and the cascading bride chase in “Seven Chances” (1925) as examples.

“It’s so good because it’s kind of a feat, so it’s not just hilarious,” said Sobelle. “You’re in awe of the production of something that could support a vision like that.

For “that dive into the old woman,” said Sobelle, referring to a stunt from Keaton’s chase scene in his 1924 “Sherlock, Jr.” where our hero appears to disappear headlong into a woman’s midriff, “we set out to duplicate that gag. And, I mean it was many years researching, like ‘How the hell did he do it?’”

Sobelle, who eventually found an illusion maker to replicate Keaton’s stunt for Sobelle’s “Elephant Room,” spoke admiringly of the silent clowns’ physical prowess and agility, comparing their skills to those of Jackie Chan.

“And the music, which was not something I’ve ever really been that successful with, but I do play,” said Sobelle. “And, you know, like Chaplin, who scored his own movies, was just an extraordinary talent, musically.”

As Sobelle pointed out, Chaplin and Keaton differed most obviously in the personalities. Each filmmaker’s work directly reflected the one’s art from the other.

“Chaplin’s like a little Napoleon,” said Sobelle, whose own work lies somewhere in between Chaplin’s sentimental optimism and Keaton’s reserve. “He knows his majesty and allure.

“I think Keaton was actually quite self-conscious,” Sobelle said. “He felt he was a little guy in the world — a fish at a stampede. I doubt that he considered himself a great artist.

“Keaton was really in love with the work,” he said. “I think Chaplin was too, but Chaplin was really in love with Chaplin.”

Sobelle’s talk of the personal differences between Chaplin and Keaton shifted toward his own colleagues, all 15 credited in the show’s program, including composer Elvis Perkins, choreographer David Neumann, set designer Steven Dufala and illusion consultant Steve Cuiffo.

“These are people I know really well,” said Sobelle, whose sister Stephanie, a professor at Gettysburg College, serves the production as dramaturge. “They’re all people who look out for each other. There is no one in the room who is out for themselves.”

Sobelle specially mentions Cuiffo, who appreciates Sobelle’s penchant for period technology.

“All the illusion is done in an old-school way,” Sobelle said. “There’s a lot of illusion in the show, and there’s nothing digital. Now when I say there’s nothing digital, I’m sure there’s a light board, but there are no projections. It’s all done with last century technology, but the materials are contemporary.”

All of “Home,” with its illusion, absurdism, daily routine, pantomime and audience participation, can ultimately whittle down to “the difference between house and home,” as Sobelle said.

“‘Home’ opens up a space where you can reflect on your own history of dwelling,” said Sobelle. “Rather than us tell you a narrative, ‘Home’ invites you to reflect on your own story.”