A Ghost Story Delight
'The K of D' Spins A Tent Full of Supernatural Tales

By Nelson Pressley
Special to The Washington Post
Monday, January 21, 2008; C05

C'mon, kids, scramble inside the tent for some spooky stories -- legends of a dead boy who comes back as a bird, of a prize-winning teacher who rubs out her competition, and more.

This is the stuff of Laura Schellhardt's engaging one-person drama "The K of D," billed as "an urban legend" and more or less grown-up, despite its playful premise. Director John Vreeke turns the cozy Melton Rehearsal Hall at the Woolly Mammoth Theatre into an oversize tent and, using proven ghost-story techniques -- flashlights and shadows, strange noises and portentous silences -- turns the show into a tour de force of what could be called campsite stagecraft.

Vreeke and set designer Marie-Noelle Daigneault daringly reduce the playing area to postage-stamp dimensions. Actress Kimberly Gilbert, spinning the yarn and portraying a dozen or so characters in a tiny western Ohio town, does it all on a space the size of a large rug.

Yet the room, ringed with sheets hung the way kids string up blankets as bedroom forts, is alive with sound and movement. Gilbert holds her own as a solo performer and yet never truly seems to be alone, so dynamic is the production around her.

The supernatural story digs in with the hit-and-run death of the mute main character's twin brother. Gilbert's reenactment is accompanied by squealing sound effects, blinding headlights and the boy's skateboard rolling into view, riderless and small comfort to his sister, Charlotte.

This is mainly Charlotte's story, the narrator points out at the top of "The K of D" (which stands for "the kiss of death," a shorthand phrase that eventually gives the tale its intrigue). The adolescent Charlotte is always hanging around with a pack of kids whom Gilbert renders in efficient strokes. Quisp is a hip-hop kid given to stiff-armed, wobbly-kneed body language that punctuates his emphatic speech. Becky is the boss girl, whom we recognize by her haughty attitude and two fingers holding a smoke; she has a wicked addiction to bubble-gum cigarettes.

There are more -- a kid who scribbles notes about everything that happens in town, a taciturn boy who takes a protective interest in Charlotte, plus sundry adults, from Charlotte's oddly matched parents to the punk across the way who ran down Charlotte's brother. For a while it's enough just to observe and admire this oddball gallery. Schellhardt is in no hurry to cut to the chase, and Gilbert -- given gender-neutral baggy clothing by Daigneault -- is understated yet magnetic as she weaves among these hayseed characters.

As the plot bides its time, it may seem that Vreeke has simply directed the heck out of an okay script. The plentiful sound effects by Matt Otto combine with Andrew F. Griffin's clever, shadowy lights and silhouettes in a tasteful low-budget spectacular.

Still, Schellhardt seems to know when it's time for the narrator to offer up some vivid incidents, and these sharp episodes pop up often enough to give the kids something to wonder at and deal with. The script also highlights (not to say telegraphs) certain phrases like choral refrains, alerting the audience to psychological implications while subtly paving the way for the inevitable final confrontation.

The twists aren't especially creepy or shocking, but it's easy to be satisfied with the sheer storytelling pleasure radiated by this unusual theatrical event. "I've got one," Gilbert's shy narrator says at the top as urban legends are being swapped. Indeed Gilbert does, with a little help from her friends in the dark.

The K of D, by Laura Schellhardt. Directed by John Vreeke. About one hour 45 minutes. Through Feb. 10 at the Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company, 641 D St. NW. Call 202-393-3939 or visit http://www.woollymammoth.net.