A play goes wrong and then course corrects in this examination of trauma, family history and crime and punishment.
A man grooves his way onto the small stage at the Chicken & Hen’s pub theatre, to the rhythm of a classic 70’s pop song. He, dressed in a white suit, explains that he’s involved in a court proceeding because of a terrible action he’s apparently committed, and then two other characters show up, the prosecutor and his helper, to question his motives and examine whether he did this particular crime or not. This is the premise of So Help Me Dog, a constricted play divided into two completely different segments with a 15-minute interval sandwiched in between.
The first half is simple, focusing on the court proceeding that takes ages to kick off properly. Our protagonist, Danny Franks (played by Kai Spellman), spends the first segment of the production talking about his upbringing as a means for us, the jury, to sympathise with the actions he’s accused of. Putting him in the spotlight in the beginning doesn’t click, since the focus of Dean Stalham’s script relies on heavy and unjustified exposition about who Danny is. Things start to get into gear once Claire Marie Fox and Gary Cain appear. Claire, in particular, brings some necessary comedic gravitas and dramatic tension with her performance, which in turn elevates Kai’s rendition of Danny. However, it’s still mind-boggling that we’re still 40 minutes into the play and we still don’t know what Danny’s been charged with and what’s the consequence of the plea.
Only at the end of Act 1 do we discover what he’s about, something that would’ve been helpful to know at the start to follow the stakes along.
The second half takes a bold choice, by revealing the outcome of the trial and putting us in Danny’s grim position. The stakes suddenly skyrocket, as does Kai’s magnetism on stage. His chemistry with Gary Cain, who serves a much more prominent role in this half, pulls you immediately into the action. From then onwards, Kai’s capable of carrying the play entirely on his shoulders. His monologue at the end, expressive, cathartic and funny, demonstrates the versatility of the actor, as well as the capabilities of what director Lil Warren can do to engage her audience: with dramatic lighting changes, energetic performances and a hypnotising train of thought. With all the potential shown in Act 2, I can’t help but wonder what So Help Me Dog could’ve been if it had forgotten about its clunky first half and instead focused on expanding the sentiment of the second entry. It could’ve been a masterpiece.