Village of K___

Adapting Dostoevsky’s 1872 novel Demons is ambitious enough; presenting the 700-page book’s epic sweep within the side project’s tight confines seems, frankly, a little mad. But Bruised Orange comes remarkably close to pulling it off. Sheffer, Webster and the ensemble cast succeed most notably in capturing the Russian master’s unmistakable tone, mingling hysteria, pathos and the constant undertow of things falling inexorably apart. The play’s pivotal scene—a benefit for impoverished governesses interrupted first by rabble-rousing townspeople and then by an anarchist cell’s bomb—lurches hypnotically from disaster to disaster, abetted by the production’s intimate scale.

Despite such moments of searing intensity, the piece as a whole doesn’t entirely add up. Its first third is dominated by enormous swaths of exposition, delivered compellingly enough but leaving the audience in the uncomfortable position of a foie gras duck, force-fed information. And these efforts can’t come close to bringing us up to speed. Watching Village of K___ feels like coming upon an intriguing TV show midseason; the events depicted may be compelling but they’re always a little mystifying. On more than one occasion, we get the urge to ask, “Wait, who’s married to whose sister?” While Wes Clark offers a relatively bland take on perhaps the novel’s most famous creation, the revolutionary Stavrogin, powerful performances by Alison Connelly, Sonneville and especially Ross as the epileptic and creepily mystic girl Marya anchor the production.

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