Play: Dog Sees God (2004)
Remember in high school when your senior class voted for all those “most likely to” categories, and at your 10-year reunion when the guy who won “class flirt” came back as Molly the transgendered P.E. teacher? Dog Sees God brings that “all growed up” approach to one of America’s favorite comics, the Peanuts, and pulls the proverbial football out from under its foot. An angst-ridden cast, alcoholic and Rastafarian debauchery and teenage sex — including the gay kind — make this unauthorized parody directed by Bryan M. Vandevender a shocking yet delightful look at the characters we thought we knew.
The brilliance of this play lies in its ability to make the drama we find so contrived and overdone in most popular entertainment, into a relatable, evocative experience that is incredibly timely and raises awareness without preaching. With strong language, and even stronger content, the play gets very heavy very quickly, but should be regarded as an exercise in mind-opening that is beneficial to all audiences mature enough to watch MTV.
The characters of Dog Sees God have more baggage than a trans-continental flight: identity crisis and juvenile detention, drugs and homophobia, they’ve got it all. The first scene is no different as our protagonist, CB (Andrew Rea), chokes out a monologue to his ethereal pen pal. You see, his dog, which shall remain nameless, died, and well, he’s feeling a bit unstable. As the audience listens to Rea reminisce and ramble, it feels like that awkward moment on a bus or a plane where the stranger next to you decides you would make a great counselor, and you’re forced to nod and “hmm” like you know how they’re feeling. Before you know it, Rea’s got you leaning forward in your seat and brought a concerned wrinkle to your brow. You’re hooked.
Thunder rolls characteristically overhead as the scene Canis Exequiae (meaning dog funeral) begins. We get our first glimpse at how the loveable kids from the comics have changed as CB’s Sister approaches him at the grave, lighting a cigarette and looking more like Elvira than the pink princess we remember. The two argue over mutual annoyance of each other and whose “f-ing dog” it was anyway. The scene brings back memories of Donnie and Elizabeth Darko fighting across the dinner table, spitting expletives and resentment.
CB enlists the help of another familiar face at the iconic brick wall, where he is joined by confidant, Van (Ian Matthew Sobule). If the setting doesn’t give away Van’s identity, his red shirt, blue hoodie and admission that he smoked the remains of his beloved blanket should do it. Yes, Van is the token pothead — just part of the reason this scene is titled Nirvana. Sobule offers a comedic performance with just enough droopy eye and dazed bliss to make it convincing, but without going full-on Jeff Spicoli (Fast Times at Ridgemont High) on us.
At school CB’s character is a bit sinister as he doubles over laughing when friend, Matt (Joseph Burch), sexually harasses his sister, and classmate Beethoven (Christopher Carlson). CB joins Matt, shoving and calling the boy “fag.” This is not the CB we once knew who did the right thing to a fault. Though we’re disappointed in CB, Matt’s attack is harsh, including a threat to kill Beethoven for supposedly being gay.
Burch, like Sobule, delivers despite a typically exaggerated role: the villain. With a firmly set brow and rigid shoulders seething aggression, he conveys intimidation through his body more than his voice, making him the perfect bully and our antagonist. His character carries a touch of ironic humor as well since he dropped the childhood nickname (Pig Pen) and acquired a germ phobia.
The next characters we meet are Tricia (Maddie Byrne) and Marcy (Alyssa Cartee) — think Peppermint Patty and Marcie — whose double-trouble partnership hasn’t changed much, except that instead of sleeping through class, they’re now boozing through it. The girls’ attempt at the drunken duo feels a bit over-the-top, but is completely tolerable.
Beethoven’s exposition comes as a response to CB’s relentless search for answers to the afterlife, which he resumes while crashing the pianist’s lunchtime practice session. Exasperated by CB’s self-pity, Beethoven vents his frustration over CB and his pals’ bullying, the reason he spends the hour alone each day. When Rea scoffs at his sensitivity, Carlson delivers a line that causes all the air to leave the room:
“No wonder kids bring guns to school and shoot you f***ers down.”
The final member of the cast, Van’s Sister (Stephanie Juergens), is introduced to the audience behind bars with a flimsy sign reading: “The doctor is in.” Sporting a jumpsuit and pigtails, she’s as snarky as ever and glad to see CB. Juergens has mastered the feigning-innocence pout, and her thick black eyeliner gives her an edginess that speaks louder than the handcuffs she’s wearing.
The play’s other strong point is its sardonic humor. In a party scene at Marcy’s house the characters simultaneously break out in their own “dances” — a cheeky homage to the source material — bouncing, twisting and waving in place. Later, in the heat of a lover’s quarrel, Beethoven begrudgingly hands over a “mix” he makes for his beau. Carlson, and the audience, can barely keep from laughing at the classically teenage gesture as he turns away to hide his grin. Moments like this make watching the performance live feel like a long shared joke between cast and crowd.
Amidst the commendable acting and colorful script, some very serious topics centered on identity, bullying, and death shroud the play’s lighter notes with a somber warning.
Dog Sees God leaves viewers paralyzed by its sobering message, but simultaneously stirs them to action. A good amount of grief gets served up as the characters battle confusion, fear and loss, but they reflect the troubling reality the youth of this generation faces. Our American cultural climate could not be more appropriate for this story of self-doubt and its important warning. It is as entertaining as it is informative. It is irreverent and essential.
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