Review: Stupid Fucking Bird

With the title Stupid Fucking Bird, you know that this modern adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s classic play The Seagull is going to be irreverent and quirky. And it is, down to playwright Aaron Posner’s addition of “sort of adapted” to the Stupid Fucking Bird playbill.

Yes, Posner’s existential play about Chekhov’s existential play is funny, biting and a bit cynical while generously incorporating “fuck” throughout the dialogue in the form of nouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs. However, the surprise is how much we are emotionally drawn into its plot and characters even when the theater’s “fourth wall” is constantly being broken—with actors addressing the audience with reminders that we are seeing a play, that these wounded souls are mere thespians.

In fact, the production doesn’t start until an audience member follows the command to yell “Start the fucking play.” And then we’re off, under the carefully focused guidance of Capital Stage Director Michael Stevenson and nuanced performances by the talented seven-member cast.

Dysfunctional relationships reign throughout. It’s also a sly, gentle mocking of all the drama and angst of the theater world, from the playwrights to the productions to the actors. All of this under Capital Stage’s imaginative staging, sets and production elements—including the subtle addition of floor stage lights to remind us we’re watching a mere play even if we are fully engaged in the story and storytellers.