Customer Reviews

The Distance from Here

5 star:		(2)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

This is a work that John Lahr (theater reviewer for The New Yorker) suggested be placed on the short list of important contemporary plays. I have to agree. It is the type of play that can and should be read again and again, each reading revealing some new aspect of story, some deeper layer of meaning, and some subtle nuance of character.

The prime movers of the story are Darrell and Tim, two teenagers on the precipice of, well, falling off of it and into a void of mindless jobs, empty relationships, and violence and alcohol infused escapism. It's almost as if they see the world passing them by, but lack the desire or energy to try to keep up. But what kind of a world is it anyway? One of manufactured sensation, numbing repetition, and greeting card emotional relationships. The plot revolves around Darrell's growing belief that his girlfriend Jenn has betrayed and lied to him. His eventual response to the perceived betrayal is misguided and shocking, and will stay with you long after you've finished reading.

What LaBute has managed so brilliantly is tell an intricate story with characters who are essentially inarticulate. Between the um's and whatever's he creates an America we fear is out there, perhaps even glimpse from time to time, but quickly put out of our minds. "The Distance From Here" shows us it may not be as far away as we think.

This is an incredible play. In this play Labute writes about the type of situations that you'd see on Jerry Springer, so this is a kind of "Labute does Jerry Springer." I may be an oddity, but I like Springer. I also like Labute, so this is a great play for the likes of me.

This play isn't for everyone, but if you've ever read Labute, then you know that nothing he writes is for everyone. It probably borders on being his darkest play, with frequent use of the f, c, and n words, and has a bunch of other racial slurs in it.

I've kind of been wondering about what kind of a person Labute is. Is he a kind of Stephen King-type person who writes well, but is really a weirdo, or what? In the book, Labute writes a two-page introduction that contains such humanity, care for people, and emotion, that it answered this question for me--he's is very human, but is extremely observational about the dark side of life.

This is one of my top two Labute plays. Excellent job.

This play is somewhere in the middle for me in terms of his works. It's no Shape of Things or Bash or Autobahn but its very good and different, well worth the read and probably more deserving to be put on stage than some of his other over-produced plays. Don't turn to this show if you're working with highschoolers or young audiences though.

Alright. Here we go. Let me first start by saying, I LOVE Neil LaBute and his writing. He's hard, gritty, and exposes all that deep, personal stuff that our bottled up society tries so desperatly to hide. I, myself, have become inspired many times to write my own works after reading his shows. I would consider him, as well do many of my colleges, to be one of the greatest examples of a contemporary theatre playwright.

But he kinda missed the boat with this one.

Sure, it was a good idea. But just because it was a good idea doesn't mean it goes anywhere. Much like this play. It goes nowhere. In fact, it never starts. It's just kinda like that dumb horse that forgets to run after the gun is fired. We just see some characters enter, talk about pointless stuff, and they leave. It really doesn't pick up until the last few chapters, but even then it isn't satisfying enough to make up for the whole other eighty something pages you had to dredge through just to get to that point.

And maybe that's what he wanted. Nothing characters with no depth and a serious lack of direction, making their distance from there, quite a long and arduous task, especially for characters of their caliber, or lack of it. The mere thought of any sort of positive advancement in their lives would cause any one of them to either give up a go drink a 40 or send them into a depression so deep that suicide is the only comfort. So those characters sit there, twiddling their thumbs, waiting in their static lives for something to come along a give them a Second of Pleasure (read that one, it's great!). Shoot, I bet if someone were to burp it would give them the most action they'd ever seen.

So, once again, I'm sorry Neil LaBute, but this one just wasn't your best work. I, being a young playwright myself, have turned a lot of bad work. And some good stuff too. Much like a lot of his other works.

I would highly recommend The Shape of Things (my personal favorite), The Mercy Seat, Seconds of Pleasure, and Bash. All are amazing testaments to the shining and shocking brilliance that is Neil LaBute.