Fuerza Bruta

by Ben Wolfson

You would think a show with the title “Brute Force” would be about street thugs and cocaine smugglers. Wrong. Fuerza Bruta is about the collective experience of participating in an audience. There is no plot, no main character, not even a spoken word. And there are no seats.

The lights come on. A man in a white suit runs on a treadmill. A shot rings out. The man kneels over, examines his red stained suit, sheds it, and keeps running. Soon he is hit by a wall made  of confetti-filled cardboard  boxes. The confetti and box  pieces fly over the audience.

You move to another  part of the stage, where a wild  dance party begins. The guy next to you starts head  banging, even the man in  the fancy suit starts tapping his foot. The actors jump into  the audience and dance with you.

A pool of mermaids descends from above and you crane your neck to see with a sense of wonder. The pool is shallow and it starts to rain. The girls start diving and whirling, the shallow water allows for infinite grace. There is art in the way the water follows them, splashing in hypnotizing formations. The pool descends over your head; you can reach up and touch it. You are invited to dance as you get doused from above with water.

As you walk out of Fuerza Bruta, you feel you know everybody in the cast and the audience. The only thought in your head: “Let’s do that again.”

Tickets: $25 general rush • Daryl Roth Theatre, 101 E. 15 St.