The Border of Nasty

At Promethean Theatre, something happens. And then it doesn't. Does this make sense?

Quiroga and Chapman: The tit will lick you.
Quiroga and Chapman: The tit will lick you.


Red Tide Written by Juan C. Sanchez. Directed by Margaret M. Ledford. With Mathew Chapman, Andy Quiroga, and Deborah L. Sherman. Presented by the Promethean Theatre Company through October 28 at Mailman Hollywood Theatre, Nova Southeastern University, 3301 College Ave., Davie. Call 786-317-7580, or visit

As you might hope, this seemingly willful strangeness is no mere artsy wank. In fact, it's meta: Describing his life, Alan, in a lost, lonely, little-boy voice, says, "Something happens, and then something else." No causation, no reason; events just twist away from you "like a vanishing point." And that's just the way Red Tide works. There are no connections, and everything is frightfully arbitrary, just like the tragedies that turned the people onstage into these disintegrating monsters without the capacity to explain themselves; just like the red tide that appears out of nowhere in the ocean, killing whatever swims into it. Where is the border of all this foul nastiness? How to get clear of it? Juan Sanchez doesn't know any more than we do, but it's awfully nice of him to ask.

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