Street Theater

By Andrea Appleton
POSTED OCTOBER 1, 2007

Across from City Hall Park, on a commercial strip of Park Row, sits an unassuming storefront. Sandwiched between a magazine stand and a sub shop, it was once an adult video store. It now stands empty, shrouded with scaffolding.

But in mid-September, the little store at 38 Park Row was all dressed up. Red velvet curtains draped the walls, chandeliers hung from the decrepit ceilings, and opera music filled the tiny room. There, an audience of about 25—gilded opera glasses and fold-up fans in hand—watched as more than 100 artists, from a singing cowboy to a glowing mermaid to a Jackie O impersonator, performed on the sidewalks, the median, and even the scaffolding, transforming the street into a Vaudeville stage.

Entitled “One Million Forgotten Moments,” the performance was staged twice an evening for nearly a week. Director Yehuda Duenyas, a dashing 33-year-old with a handlebar moustache, said he had conceived of the project as a gift to New York. “I wanted to create a memorial, a valentine for the city,” he said. “In this time period when there’s a lot of fear, we wanted to create something positive in the world.”

The project was commissioned by the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, which gave Duenyas a $6,000 grant (and the Park Row space) to produce it. (Admission was free.)

“I sent an e-mail to everyone I knew, and I didn’t limit anyone artistically,” Duenyas said of his “audition” process. The result was a sprawling, often hilarious production, in which the audience became part of the show.

At one Saturday evening performance a full house—all fanning themselves and fidgeting with their opera glasses—waited for the curtain to rise. When it finally did, it was almost a surprise to see the street beyond. A performer in a horse head appeared, stared blankly at the audience, and blew an air horn. (Speakers mounted in the theatre transmitted sound from the street.) Just beyond, on the median, a contortionist wrapped himself around a lamppost. What followed on the sidewalk “stage” was a raucous, surprisingly seamless variety show, with many acts performing simultaneously.

Spectators gathered on the sidewalk to watch, and it became increasingly difficult to distinguish pedestrians from players. A man with an Aussie-style hat and a camera walked into the “frame” of the window, looking lost and confused. Was he part of the show? (He later reappeared and sang a dramatic rendition of Cole Porter’s “Night and Day.”) A furtive looking couple with a stroller scurried past. Were they actors?

Gradually, it did not matter who was passerby and who performer. Even the buses began to seem part of the choreography, halting at the curb and pulling away with a regularity that complemented the performance.

Perhaps because of this uncanny melding of art and reality, the response from the audience was euphoric.

“It was fantastic,” said Storm Sundberg. “It was focused, and had a vision.”

“It was possibly the best thing I’ve ever seen,” said Jude Kallok, one of the few to get a seat inside. “There was something about that glass. It felt so safe.”

“I haven’t had more fun in an audience in ages,” said Jake Schneider. “I felt like part of the show. I started using my fan a lot.”

Duenyas, a veteran director and performer of experimental theater, said he purposefully strives to blur the boundary between actor and audience.

“My favorite thing that happened with this project is that people on the street started performing themselves,” he said. “There’s a social code that starts to break down, and I like that sort of thing. But,” he added, “this isn’t a protest rally. This is a gift.”

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