Deanna Fleysher and Brooke Sciacca in The Method Prix. Photo by Sulai Lopez

The Method Prix (Stage 17, Grindstone Theatre)

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

“People ask me all the time what it’s like to be a genius artist,” says the legendary Hollywood auteur-director Vincent Prix (Deanna Fleysher), flinging himself into a selection of dramatic sultry poses as he shoots live footage of himself.

He’s greeted us at the door, with an intensity of gaze that positively reeks of artistic greatness. Now we’re in his “studio” to watch genius at work, as the great man makes “a classic of the American cinema” from scratch. And in this latest from L.A.’s Deanna Fleysher (Butt Kapinsky), a “drag clown” whose appetite for risk seems to have no limits — it’s kind of breath-taking and kind of scary — we will find ourselves part of the shoot.

One among us finds a lighting instrument in his hands; another is the make-up person. The caterer has the honour of holding the Prix Perrier till needed. As headshots of contenders appear on the screen, Prix scrambles through the audience on the hunt for a hot young leading man. He rejects one after another — too much Nordic angst, too happy, “too mentally healthy.” And then  “Hollywood wild child” Dylan Thruster (Brooke Sciacca) swaggers up to the stage, with exactly tousled coiffure, and the slightly open-mouthed bring-it pout that models have.

Prix is on fire; he’s found his man boy, his new Brando, his new … well….. But the leading man keeps finding desirable co-stars, his -ex, his L.A. trainer, his love interest (Prix is dismayed), among us, and brings them to the stage. We’re the extras, called upon to invent the scenery as the leads chew it. The fourth wall is long gone, trampled underfoot. It’s chaos — is it art or is it a shambles? — and it’s funny, as Prix works his impulse “Method,” to shoot scenes.

Fleysher’s show, a satire of the movie mythology of the director/creator/genius, is actually built on audience participation, risky in itself, and escalation, even riskier. Scenes Prix creates with us, recorded live on the screen, and live scenes with Dylan Thruster are interspersed with Prix’s fantasy sequences (with songs) about coupling with his leading man. The interplay of live, live feed recording on-, off-, and backstage gets more and more frenzied.

All those Hollywood clichés about making love to the camera? All those theatre clichés about playing with, and not just for, the audience? Fleysher and Sciacca never waver. They’re fearless improvisers both, and they keep upping the ante. The architecture of  The Method Prix is balanced precariously on the epic egos of their characters. And from that infrastructure you can’t quite believe how far they’re unafraid to go.

Funny, original, nervy, and nerve-wracking.