Domestic Disturbance

      In media, it is said, there are three "never  fails"-kids, old people and animals. Have any of these at your event, and you'll make the 6 o'clock news.

       In theater, you might say, there are five never fails-smoke, gunshots, nudity, violence and adult situations.  Have any of these and people might forget the bad economy and pay the $10-$15 for a ticket.

      And that's just what a packed house did on a Sunday afternoon as Single Carrot Theatre presented the Baltimore premiere of noted American winning playwright Tracy Letts' KILLER JOE.  Those five special characteristics are listed as a warning to viewers in Single Carrot's program, but it's less a precaution and more an invitation, particularly if you're a fan of Letts' works.

      As Letts proved with his Pulitzer Prize winning play, "August: Osage County," he is adept at unearthing dramatic gold from a mine some critics claim has long since run dry-the American dysfunctional family.  Letts demonstrates his skill in KILLER JOE which has future Coen Brothers screenplay adaptation write all over it.

       The entire play takes place in the Texas trailer park home of Ansel Smith (Elliott Rauh), a man with no greater aspiration than to drink beer and watch reruns of "Cannon."  His son, Chris (Nathan A. Cooper), gets in trouble with the wrong people, and ends up needing $6,000 to avoid being buried alive. So, in Letts' world, what do trailer trash people with no ethics or morals do to make money fast?

        Conduct an inventory of family members who have taken out big money life insurance policies and whom everyone agrees serves humanity no useful purpose-in this case, Chris' mom and Ansel's ex-wife.

        But who to do the murderous deed? Enter police detective and hit-man-broker "Killer Joe" Cooper (Brendan Ragan) a man whose "eyes hurt"-not themselves, but in the pain they inflict when they fix their black stare on the one bit of innocence and beauty in the Smith household, Ansel's daughter, Dottie (Genevieve de Mahy).

         Joe tells Dottie about a "domestic disturbance" call, explaining that, despite this seemingly innocent term, "they're the ones where you're most likely to get hurt."  The story reflects the theme of the entire play, as what starts out as a simple plan soon becomes a world of pain for everyone involved.

         Joe wants $25,000 up front to commit the crime, but since he must wait til the Smiths get The Life insurance payout, Joe claims Dottie as his "retainer." Sharla (Jessica Garrett), Ansel's current wife, expects a share of the blood money, but harbors a secret that may net her much more than that.     

          In Letts world, it's always raining, the dog is always barking, and the Smiths--the anti-Waltons--have yet to discover the household wonder which is a wastebasket. Dottie sleepwalks, overhears the plot to murder her mother, but is fine with it, seeing as Mom tried to suffocate her when she was a child.

         As my theater companion noted, "It was like a Jerry Springer episode set on stage." The play--sprinkled with humor to relieve the tension--exhibits not one, but two climatic moments: when Sharla's betrayal is discovered and Dottie finds empowerment through the barrel of a gun. Letts has a knack for "disturbance," creating scenes not unlike the proverbial car wreck. It's awful, but you just can't look away. One thing about this play is for sure-you'll never look at a bucket of KFC in quite the same way again.

        Director Giti Jabaily gets first-rate performances out of the Single Carrot company.  Ragan as Killer Joe never smolders, never rages. His evil is banal, as for him, all this is just another day at the office.  Rauh, despite looking the same age as his "son,"  demonstrates an evil of another sort: selfish cowardice. Every character in this play is missing some vital piece of humanity--that core of decency and empathy we believe (or hope) to be innate, which makes us civilized, something more than a wolfpack like the Smiths who live by only one rule: survival of the fittest.

         Kudos to Paul Wissman, Joey Bromfield, Adam Stover and Genevieve de Mahy for their set work, creating as depressing a home environment as may be possible, right down to the stained, duct-taped couch and the battered general electric fridge which also serves as a coat rack.

         Single Carrot Theatre's production of KILLER JOE runs through March 15th, Thursday-Saturday at 7:30 p.m., Sundays at 2:30 p.m. at 120 W. North Avenue. Tickets are $10-$15. Call the box office at 443-844-9253 or visit www.singlecarrot.com.