WET's Babs the Dodo: Sell-By Date As Life Crisis

Babs Gillespie is a product; she's a product that sells product at the ShopMore Network, which should give you an idea of the kinds of things she has to sell. As the lights come up, we join Babs just as she begins the last segment of her shift. She's hawking a gold-plated angel pin, and it quickly becomes evident that Babs is not working with a script. She talks about the quality of the pin, how much it costs, she asks for a close up of the item; all the while you hear each sale being tabulated as the calls come in, business is sporadic.

As she winds her way to the home stretch, Babs encourages her husband to buy one for her, this inspires her to tell the women at home to send their husbands away as she moves toward the final phase of the sale. Finally done, Babs admits to the viewer that the following day is a milestone birthday for her: She's turning 50. The segment ends, they go to commercial, and the station prepares for the next shift with Handsome Chris, who starts out selling hot tubs -- business for him is moving well.

The rest of Babs the Dodo, a world premiere production presented by the Washington Ensemble Theater, concerns itself with how Babs (Marty Mukhalian), and the people caught in her wake, comes to grips with the events leading up to and from this pivotal day in her life. Along the way we see her struggling with becoming old, obsolescent and oppressive loneliness.

Babs, written by Michael Mitnick and directed by Elise Hunt, has all the hallmarks of a new work created by emerging talent; this is Hunt's directorial debut and it is amongst Mitnick's first works. This burgeoning energy helps the production more than it hinders, and evidence of both sides of this coin could be spotted here and there throughout the evening. Mitnick's way with a turn of phrase is simple yet devious, the script delivers many a laugh that come out of left field. A good example is a sales pitch for a fairly mundane featured product: A no. 2 yellow pencil.

Similarly, Hunt's playful staging, using angular physicality and taking advantage of the clever set design (a hallmark of WET's productions, here handled by Jessica Trundy) pays dividends during moments like one at the top of the show: While Handsome Chris (John Abramson, and more about him and his castmates in a moment) starts pitching the hot tubs, a door on the set opens and we see Babs decompressing from everything she just went through. Her fragility stands in stark contrast with the success Handsome Chris is having mere feet away.

It's in the aftermath of the climactic transformational moment in the show that both Hunt and Mitnick stumble a little. Hunt's flights of fancy slowly stop being innovative and start becoming a bit literal after the staccato bursts of impressionistic movements at the top; and Mitnick's characters reach a certain point in development and then stay there, still engaging, but not really progressing.

There is more going on in Babs than what's been described so far; indeed, the breadth of its themes is one of the stronger elements of this production: a May-December relationship; how rejuvenating it is to be desired; a mild exploration of the damaging elements of consumerism; a glancing touch on gay rights; a stunning monologue on what it takes to break into the seemingly soft field of home-shopping broadcasting.

This last is given by ShopMore's generally aggresssive operations manager, Jocelyn Nob, played with impressive delivery by Hannah Victoria Franklin who quite nearly steals the show. Abramson displays a disarming charm as Handsome Chris -- a nattering nabob of positivity and hucksterism. Rounding out the cast is Charles Norris, quite pleasant as Raymond, Babs' unlikely 28 year old love interest.

At the center of it all is Mukhalian, who simply inhabits the role of Babs. Her work here joins the ranks of the cast from Crooked for impressive female performances this year that this correspondent has seen. Quite unsure why she doesn't get more work from the bigger houses in Seattle, however that matters little, as long as we can still see her in intimate spaces like this one.

Babs has plenty of surprises to offer, often belying the youthful energy of its creators. All involved aim high and nearly hit their intended targets, but just not quite. Here's looking forward to their next attempt.

Thursdays through Mondays at 7:30 p.m. through March 14 // Washington Ensemble Theater (WET), 608 19th Avenue East // $25/general, $15/Seniors & Students. Tickets available through Brown Paper Tickets