Adam McCabe presents Douchebags
Yellow venue – find showtimes
Douchebags is probably the straightest play on the planet. For those who criticize the festival for being majorly gay (not a bad thing here at Watermark), it’s likely to be the palate cleanser of choice between shows named after lesbians consuming breakfast pastries, among other things.
This show finds a cozy home in the Yellow Venue at the Orlando Shakespeare Theater, perfect for the intimate revelations and insecurities that permeate the script for its hour-long runtime.
Adam McCabe’s Douchebags takes place in the painstakingly infuriating real world, a world where fratty college kids act like their breakups are comparable the end of a 20-year marriage and grown men act like fratty college kids.
The hour is scored by dubstep and eurodance. The set is decorated with bottles of Yuengling in what is meant to be a bar. The wardrobe focuses on three distinct types of douchebag: sneakers-to-the-club try hard, borderline fedora-tipping nightmare, and open button-up over t-shirt douche.
You might find yourself cringing during many parts of the show: sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. Gregg Baker Jr. plays a sensitive but frustrated married man on the brink of divorce (and douche wardrobe type 1) who values “growing sexually with someone” but can’t stop jacking off. He carries his character with the trepidation of a second-time stage performer. The cuddly Kyle Stone plays a Bachannalian type (and douche wardrobe type 2) who lives by the code of YOLO. The most exaggerated character in the play, Stone delivers his protestations with projected eloquence, but falls short of looking the part of the Adonis in distress.
Michael Gunn shines as a young college kid navigating his first heartbreak. His turn from total tool to naïve runt (re: “I know a lot about alcohols”) speaks strongly of his skill, and the lines written for him.
Overall, Doucheabgs plays on a lot of clichés. It has a lesson about relationships at the end, and it uses the incorrect definition of insanity as “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result” in an egregiously serious manner. It’s still a fun hour of Fringe, with committed performances and fluid stage direction. Perhaps in a nod to the casting choices, the history of Orlando Fringe, and Watermark, the play ends with Kyle Stone’s character questioning his sexuality – a glimmer of wit.
Read all of Watermark’s coverage of the 2016 Orlando Fringe Theatre Festival here.
