Theater Alliance’s fire work Laughs and Cries at Capitalism

The dark comedy fire work pulls off an incredible conceit that shapes the whole production, imbuing it with a sense of unease and creating moments that swing between tense and hilarious. This critic wishes she could reveal what it is without spoiling the whole experience for those who see it, but this underpinning is best experienced by going in blind. fire work reveals itself slowly, dribbling information bit by bit. Again and again, the audience starts to get a sense of what’s happening, only for a line of dialogue to cast uncertainty upon or upend what came before it. Dancing right on the line between darkness and comedy and offering some fierce performances, it’s a radical and red-hot reflection on the absurdity of needing to make a living or die trying. 

fire work drops the audience directly into an argument between Eleanor (Andreá Bellamore) and Bartholomew (Solomon Langely). Bartholomew has just been made foreman at the glass factory where they both work, and Eleanor thinks she was passed over for the role. Not only is she better at her job, she reasons, she also needs the paltry raise more than he does since she’s the sole breadwinner for her unwell mother and siblings. Though the pair at first appear to be just co-workers, it turns out they are pseudo married (albeit with a fake ring made out of twine and living in separate homes), but they talk about one day getting married for real. That is, if Bartholomew stops being so damn annoying. Judging by Eleanor’s clenched jaw, which can be seen from the back row, that doesn’t seem likely to happen. 

The time and place aren’t exactly clear, but capitalism has fully run its course and being a low-wage worker is even worse than it is here and now. The set, designed by Gisela Estrada, is a jumble of tarps and broken windows and interesting piles of rubbish for the actors to climb over, portraying a world where anything (and anyone) can be used up until it gives out completely. The poverty and drudgery of the characters is obvious from the soot smeared on their faces and the fabulous costumes by Danielle Preston, which include odd vintage bloomers and a corset made out of fruit snack packets.  

A type of salvation arrives in the form of a ragtag group of workers from different factories that Eleanor befriends: Lula (Alina Collins Maldonado), the fiery brainiac who spouts political theory and forgotten moments in history, the petulant but sweet Geraldina (Victoria Gomez), the nonverbal and eminently expressive Tug (Eric Lane), and their fearless and focused leader, Fox (Madison Norwood, who projects an assured suaveness). The group tells Eleanor about a bill moving through city hall that will supposedly upgrade factory safety and prevent them from working in the process. For them, the real danger is being out of work and unable to lend their families even the meager support they currently do.  

Eleanor and Bartholomew also earn money putting on fireworks displays (depicted via projections designed by Jonathan Dahm Robertson and lighting designed by Yannick Godts). Lula knows seemingly everything about making bombs, and Tug knows every nook and cranny of the city, so the natural next step is to blow up city hall. For a stretch, the play becomes a highly enjoyable heist story, including sequences of the gang gathering their materials and practicing for the main event, showing off their skill sets and smarts in the process. 

While the scrappy characters are a hoot and the laughs come often, this is ultimately a tragicomedy. The heist plan hits multiple snags along the way, both for its feasibility and for the psyches of the characters, who grapple with the morality of what they’re doing, grasping for any alternative and finding none. The high stakes and miserable lives of the protagonists are constantly looming over the action, and there are many intense moments throughout the run time. Still, the play manages to artfully balance the disparate tones and safely avoids becoming trauma porn. In a bit of ridiculously inspired casting, a character appears toward the back end of the show that challenges the equilibrium of the entire production. It’s emblematic of how singular and weird this show’s concept is, and the preposterousness of the very concept of capitalism. 

fire work, written by Mary Glen Fredrick and directed by Shanara Gabrielle, runs through Sept. 21 at Theater Alliance. theateralliance.com. $40.