Luna

A Celtic warrior and an Italian maiden unleash their memories, fears, dreams, and longings in this exploration of "inner landscapes." In some scenes, detailed masks transform the actors into the demons of nightmares and the angels of fantasies. At other moments, borrowing elements from Macbeth, the warrior embodies Shakespeare's tortured Scottish antagonist and the maiden acts as his prodding wife. Their meandering journeys are underscored by the pulsing bongo of Orlando Obligacion and the strings of Eugene Jun. The beating drums link the woman's purgative tarantella dance and the warrior's battle poses with the rhythmic sounds of their respective cultures. The music saves this play from the otherwise dark, choppy transitions that butcher its continuity. The script, a collaborative effort by director Maria Lexa and the actors, juxtaposes male and female, dark and light, death and life, moon and sun, hell and heaven without a specific plot, in a deluge of nebulous ritual. Though the performers appear committed, this muddled creation incorporates so many erratic, artsy modes of performance that it sacrifices clarity for eccentricity. In short, it tries to do too much.