Countess Elizabeth Báthory (Sara Fellini) is surrounded by her husband (Luke Couzens) and a demon (Jillian Cicalese) in spit&vigor’s Blood Countess (photo by Giancarlo Osaben)
BLOOD COUNTESS
The Players Theatre
115 MacDougal St. between West Third & Bleecker Sts.
Thursday – Sunday through February 5, $52-$99
www.spitnvigor.com
I specifically chose Friday the thirteenth to see spit&vigor’s Blood Countess, about real-life Hungarian serial killer Countess Elizabeth Báthory de Ecsed. I had previously enjoyed the NYC-based company’s The Wake of Dorcas Kelly, about an eighteenth-century Irish murderer, and the livestreamed Luna Eclipse, which involved yet another serial killer, the Axeman of New Orleans.
Alas, this Friday the thirteenth proved to be unlucky.
I cannot in good faith review the production, as several unforeseen distractions prevented me from having the experience the talented troupe intended. During the first ten minutes, a man sitting across the aisle from me continually checked his cell phone. The fourth time was enough for me; I got up and asked him to please keep it off. He looked at me as if I were a lunatic; I told him the light was distracting — turning on a cell phone in a dark theater instantly gets the attention of anyone in the proximity of the digital abuser — and he begrudgingly turned it off. As I sat back down, both he and the woman with him gave me accusatory stares, as if I had done something untenable. Later in the first act, the woman turned her cell phone on, bathing her face in a majestic glow; if she had left it on for one second longer, I would have said something again, but I did not want to interfere with other people’s experience or with the cast itself in the small, intimate Players Theatre.
However, another light bothered me as well; the set includes several long, vertical mirrors, and during the scenes that take place in the countess’s living room, one of the lights reflected right into my eyes, forcing me to twist uncomfortably in my chair to avoid the glare. It is general admission, so I could have moved, but I did not want to get up again and disturb those around me or onstage.
Evil doings are afoot in Blood Countess at the Players Theatre (photo by Giancarlo Osaben)
Finally, and inexplicably, during the first half of the second act, another conversation could be distinctly heard. My wife and I could not tell whether it was coming from the comedy club or the theater on either side of the Players, from The Dog Show upstairs, or from a radio or television in a connected apartment. At times we could make out specific words and statements, and the noise came at inopportune moments. At one point, a threatened young woman asked a priest about her stay at the countess’s estate, “Will I die there, Father?” and one of the people in the disembodied conversation let out a loud “Ha ha ha!”
When Elizabeth tells her Goth-Shakespearean fool, “I’m exhausted. The sound of their chirpy voices is a knife in my head,” I thought it might have been an ad-lib, especially when that was shortly followed by Elizabeth’s pronouncement: “I need more wine. If I hear another giggle I think I will chop them all up now and gorge myself.”
The horror-comedy, which runs 135 minutes with intermission, was written by Kelleen Conway Blanchard and is directed by producer Nick Thomas. I have to give kudos to the cast for soldiering on despite this terrible interference: visual designer Sara Fellini as the countess; fight choreographer Luke Couzens as Ferenc Nádasdy, Elizabeth’s husband; Sara Santucci as Dorkus, the embattled family maid; Perri Yaniv as the priest; Samantha Haviland as Fitzco, the evil harlequin fool; Andrea Woodbridge as Elizabeth’s high-brow mother; Jillian Cicalese as the demonic Horned Woman, in a stunning costume on stilts; and Chloé Bell, Silvana Carranza, and Cait Murphy as potential victims.
Thus, while I feel I can’t objectively review the show, I can say that I was rooting for one more murder, the bloodier the better: whoever was responsible for that baffling, godforsaken noise, especially on Friday the thirteenth.