he Lab Theatre’s showcase for aspiring writers, “Experiments in Ink,” tackles the big questions of the modern age.

“You know how I feel about you, didn’t you get my Email?”

The line from the first of six concise plays majestically, if vaguely, summarizes the running gag that fuels the show—love stinks. Hell, even like stinks.

The performance of a talented cast manages to invigorate the belabored theme of human relationships and keeps it fresh for a good two hours.
“Superficial ‘How-are-yous’ Permanent Goodbyes” by Nate Heldman teeters between triteness and poignancy as it tells the tale of a lanky, straight-laced protagonist as he faces the final half-hour of his life.

A businessman weathers the purposeful indifference of a superficial world as he practically begs people to recognize his looming demise. His plight begins in a doctor’s waiting room in which the bad news is hardly buffered by a shapely nurse and an aloof and amorous physician. He yearns to share the news with a pacing populous that suckles cell phones and expects a canned response from spirited “How are yous?”

The author insinuates that the man in the suit has only himself to blame for immersing himself in a culture that vacantly frets over a missing girl while the unraveling lives around them go ignored.

“When I’m with you” by Jamie Wilcox is a study in closure. A young couple tilts back bottles of Guinness and tosses a die in a game of pop-culture “Trivial Pursuit.”

The emotionally starved woman finds few accolades in knowing a great deal about Benjamin Bratt and quickly descends into a pop-psychology rant against a vacantly introspective beau. He talks of leaving before and eventually again as she clings in her comfy pink ensemble to a man she officially loved. The reasons behind the passion are a moot point, as are his reasons for abandoning her.

The pseudo-cerebral foreplay seems to be a mandatory segment leading to the inevitable sex. Maybe because that is exactly what makes the ordeal a loving one. An overview of the aloof intricacies of couplehood manages a nice surprise for the audience as it unwinds.

Just when you think they should cast Jennifer Aniston in a breakout role, along comes “Dedekind” by Jeffrey Gold. We see opposing barkers in period costume—one a rumpled tramp and the other a counterpart of better carriage. The handsome if spartan set dressing helps ease the mind into a change of pace.

They haggle about the promise and misgivings of an unseen playwright, as a handful-sized crowd hoots in response.

A silent elf with a prop balloon sits center stage and is as hard to ignore as the premise of the piece. The playwright in question is the writer of the play, and he relates the unruly process that anyone with the audacity to put pen to paper knows all too well.

If Gold’s treatment seems a tad self-absorbed, it is sure to hit the mark with a Lab audience. You know, them artsy types.

“You don’t have to talk about it” by Karen Strang toys with inner voices that guide everyone with a demon and angel resting on opposite shoulders. A couple faces the audacious blue reckoning doled out by a home pregnancy test. They both play out their respective roles as young adults with a blend of martyr and Machiavelli. Their unspoken thoughts play out in two shadowing actors who don’t really look like their physical counterparts but competently mock them in respectively matching attire. In the end, you’ll respect the brash and playful irreverence of uncensored thoughts over the matriculated actions of the social reality.

An up-and -coming loser named Rod and a sage barkeep in a golf polo make the main relationship in “Plunge” by Anita Holland. Of course, a woman does manage to traipse into their life, especially Rod’s. But Rod lives a stop-action life as those around him thrive in real time, even the seemingly eternal bartender. The music chronologically oozes from 1970s Pink Floyd to Nirvana and beyond as the once under-age Rod learns the downside of becoming a bar’s “regular.”

Next comes a story about the true meaning of Christmas. While the preceding pieces show the promise of amateur writers, “Parallels” by Josh Hansen offers the actors plenty of material with which to primp their timing and talent. Each individual production yields plenty of chuckles, but the laughter gets loud with the show’s final piece. The mother is a June Cleaver gone wrong—perky, drunk and wearing pearls. This bitter homage to the depravity of normalcy drips with contempt for the Utahn ideal and its false hopes of keeping the 1950s family unit viable.

Dad is gay, the turkey is fake and mom wades in alcohol while waiting for the mailman to ravage her. “Parallels” echoes the theme of the opener as the teenage kid rails against the debauchery and falsehood of his surrounding, only to be replaced by some of dad’s “friends.”

Next comes the requisite ax-wielding rage and disastrous visit by a new girlfriend.

The showcase ends with a flourish.

“Experiments in Ink” runs in The Lab Theatre through Sunday, Feb. 15. There’s a Friday matinee at 4:30 p.m. For more information, call Kingsbury Hall at 581-7100 or ArtTix at 355-ARTS.
craig@red-mag.com