The stage is set with a simple wooden backdrop, instruments scattered about. Dito van Reigersberg ’94 walks onto the stage, just being himself. Donning a blonde wig and thick-rimmed black glasses he reaches for the mic and, suddenly, he becomes Aimee Mann.
“Poor Judge” is an original dance-theater cabaret produced by Pig Iron Theatre Company, inspired by the music of American singer-songwriter Aimee Mann. Dito, the creative mind behind the production, reflects on his experience of being diagnosed with cancer and living through the pandemic, during which Aimee Mann’s music accompanied him through difficult times. The music helps channel his feelings and his recovery. He describes her music as tender and witty, yet tinged with sadness. Through a series of vignettes and songs, “Poor Judge” centers its story around spy thrillers, bittersweet love stories, and Hollywood auditions. As Dito himself says, the work is “a love letter to the awkwardness of being human,” and it certainly reveals his more introspective side.
The Costume of Seven “Aimee Mann”
The seven actors enter with long blonde wigs, thick-rimmed glasses, and distinctive splashy outfits: each a distinct portrayal of the personalities of Aimee Mann. Dito’s reflection emerges and overlays on the distinctively styled costumes for each persona, all while keeping the same hair and glasses: “Everyone has a sad, introverted, heartbroken person inside of them.” The physical appearance is maintained so consistently throughout the performance that the audience sees an illusion of the actors becoming Aimee Mann. In the final scene, when the wig and glasses are removed, audiences are reminded of the actor’s true self underneath — a powerful commentary on identity, as it reveals something more authentic and raw. In the end, all six actors leave, and Dito remains alone on stage. With his removal of the wig and glasses, the performance winds up where it started. Just as Dito noted, it’s an introspective time. The audience can clearly sense that something beneath the surface has subtly shifted.
The Use of Media
As the transparent backdrop lowers down, the audience is transported into another realm. The use of media creates a fascinating duality: the actors appear both in person and on-screen, prompting viewers to engage with the space between reality and art. It’s a dynamic interplay that keeps the audience neither fully immersed in the live performance nor completely detached, but somewhere in between. While the actors perform in real time, their faces are projected on a large screen, revealing emotional details that might otherwise go unnoticed. This approach, expertly designed by Michael Long, heightens the sense of distance and bears much resemblance to watching a film unfold in real time. It performs an added layer of cinematic detachment while allowing the audience to glimpse the raw humanity beneath the production process being presented on stage. The brilliant setup plays into the theme of a performance caught between personal intimacy and isolation. The use of black-and-white film evokes a vintage feel, a nod to the celluloid era of Hollywood, where emotions were larger than life yet grounded in the everyday.
The Power of Expectation
There is yet another moment that stands out in the play, masterfully tapping into the audience’s expectations and creating a subtle yet powerful experience that lingers. Near the end of the performance, the stage clears, and under a dim blue light, a popcorn machine is pushed onto the stage. The audience is unsure of what will come next. With the popcorn machine, we have an idea of what to expect. We know that the popcorn machine will eventually fill with cooked popcorn. There’s a long wait before that happens. The ominous popping sound is the first thing that helps to confirm the idea; then, the smell of fresh popcorn fills the space, and eventually, the popcorn starts to fill the machine. Without a doubt, to see the anticipation realized is surely satisfying. It’s a clever use of sensory engagement — visual, aural, and olfactory — that turns a simple act into a theatrical moment that heightens anticipation in the theater. The once-tense sounds are merely evening snacks, soon to be enjoyed with a feature film.
The music, while perhaps not as resonant with younger generations, clearly strikes a deeper chord with older audiences. However, the structure of the play, combined with the seamless way the music complements the emotional tone, makes it accessible even to those unfamiliar with the songs. As someone without much background knowledge about Aimee Mann, I found that simply sitting in the theater and letting the music carry me through the flow of the performance was more than enough to appreciate its impact. The songs, even without deep recognition, felt integral to the narrative. For those familiar with Aimee Mann’s music, it offers a fresh perspective, allowing them to experience her work in a new light. It’s also worth highlighting that Mann herself supported the Pig Iron Theatre Company as soon as she learned of the project, a testament to the exciting success and creativity of the company.
As the final curtain falls on “Poor Judge” with the end of the Philadelphia Fringe Festival, audiences can look forward to Pig Iron Theater Company’s next event on February 5, 2025: “Pig-Penaissance the birth of Pig Iron,” a cabaret celebrating their 29 years of adventures in performance and education. It’s surely another night of daring entertainment from Pig Iron.
