Ubu Roi

Supposedly, the world premiere of "Ubu Roi" set off riots in Paris in 1896. We were really hoping for an old-fashioned theater riot here in San Francisco but in the end the audience seemed rather happy with the show and no one so much as threw a single chair. We may never get over the disappointment.

Originally perpetrated by 19th century symbolist writer Alfred Jarry and here translated by Rob Melrose, Cutting Ball Theater's "Ubu Roi" (pronounced "rah," not "roy") parodies classic theatrical tragedy. Here the ambitious would-be king, Father Ubu (Cutting Ball masthead David Sinaiko, who it seems can play just anything), is a crass, craven, doddering dolt written as a kind of middle finger to the tradition of Macbeth-style "tragic" anti-heroes.

Once he's crowned, king Ubu behaves like a child and rules Poland as if he's installed on a Hunter Thompson-grade ether binge. The play is intentionally gratuitous in all things, and nonsensicality and vulgarity abound for basically no other reason than "We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad," etc. Hilarity and discomfort take turns working over the audience.

Questionable royal perk: "You could eat sausages all the time."

Father Ubu and his wife accomplice Mother Ubu (Ponder Goddard, who gets a surprising degree of range out of the role) dress like they're always on their way an opera gala and eat expensive hummus with their fingers while plotting coups and massacres. The entire set consists of a gleaming ultra-modern kitchen of the sort you find only in the homes of people who eat out seven nights a week. Sinaiko dices up vegetables to represent the people Ubu puts to death while the ensemble provides the screaming. "Ubu Roi" may well have ruined the Cooking Channel for us forever.

What does it all mean? It scarcely feels safe to try to interpret anything. The scatological humor (Ubu's first lines are delivered from an offstage toilet) might suggest that power is inherently vulgar, while Ubu's preoccupation with sausages recalls that old political quip about how we're better off not seeing how either laws or sausages are made... but anytime it seemed we were just about to grasp some more profound meaning in the material it flitted away like an intoxicated butterfly.

But at least Cutting Ball's new "Ubu Roi" presents a compelling take on the idea of Theater of the Absurd. Because isn't theater always a little absurd? The "sword" that Nathaniel Justiniano (one of the ensemble of four who play seemingly dozens of parts between them) swears to avenge his family by, for example, is not a sword at all (it's a serving spoon), but the prop swords in any other show aren't really swords either, are they?

Maybe the point is that the only difference between absurdist theater and regular old theater is just whether or not the show wants to take its symbols seriously. And maybe that's why, when it wants to, "Ubu Roi" really does work on an emotional level.

Questionable royal perk: "Please accept this small kazoo."

When Goddard wanders into the final scene as a dejected refugee, it's just damn good acting. It's stirring. The last time we saw this character she was robbing graves while being egged, but suddenly that doesn't matter. The material is good, the actor is really trying and director Yury Urnov clearly knows what he's doing -- whatever the hell that may be -- and so you can't help but feel something.

Earlier, two actors play out a pivotal scene with makeshift puppets cobbled together from kitchen supplies, using one of the many kitchen counters as a tiny stage. And you know what? It really works. It's hilarious, but also somehow just as emotionally credible as if they'd played it straight. Turns out you can get a remarkably vivid and expressive performance out of an apple wrapped in a napkin. Who knew?

Questionable royal perk: "I will create a fortune. Then I'll kill everyone and go away."

If you're smarter than we are you may be able to better parse whatever substance is in the script (in which case stay out of the comments here, Mr. Showoff), but there's good value here even if you're not. While there are plenty of times when it plays a little closer to the knuckle than is healthy even for a show like this, "Ubu Roi" proves that experimental theater need not be completely incomprehensible, and that even the incomprehensible parts don't have to forgo being effective drama.

The show is good for: Theater majors, Iggy Pop fans and those downright suspicious of conventional dramas.

The show is not good for: Those who don't know what they're getting themselves into.

"Ubu Roi" runs through Mar. 29 at the Exit on Taylor, 277 Taylor St. in San Francisco. For information and tickets, call 415-292-4700 or visit Cuttingball.com