'Self-Accusation': Weak Charges

The contrarian instinct burns bright in Austrian writer Peter Handke, who two years ago sparked international outrage by delivering a eulogy at the funeral of Serbian strongman Slobodan Milosevic. Four decades before that, he penned the abstract, gleefully ornery and -- on the surface -- downright untheatrical play now on display at the D.C. Arts Center, courtesy of the local company Theatre du Jour.

"Self-Accusation" should by rights be live-actor conceptual art, but the two performers in this hyper-stylized production sorely lack stage presence, a problem that hamstrings the bold directorial touches of B. Stanley (who is remounting the piece after a brief November run; he is the Arts Center's executive director).

"Self-Accusation" disdains such hackneyed dramatic devices as characters or story. The script consists of about 10 pages of tense confessional and descriptive sentences, almost all beginning with the noun "I." Taken as a whole, the text seems to recount the neurological and behavioral development of an acutely self-conscious, unnamed person -- someone who grows up to defy (or at least be seriously cheesed-off by) laws and conventions. One typical passage runs:

"I walked purposelessly. I walked purposefully. I walked on paths. I walked on paths on which it was prohibited to walk. I failed to walk on paths when it was imperative to do so. I walked on paths on which it was sinful to walk purposelessly."

And so on.

Interpreting this incantatory mea culpa are Jerry Herbilla and Kris Roth, who initially march onto the stage barefoot, dressed in gray and carrying metal suitcases, which they carefully place on suitcase stands. At first, seated on gray cubes, the performers deliver the text almost -- but not quite -- in unison, each speaker giving the words different rhythms and emphases. At one point, for instance, Herbilla's intonations sound sincere, while Roth's flicker with mockery.

Later, the actors take turns discoursing, with increasing vehemence, and they roam around the stage with gestures that become broader and more agitated. In one sequence, they stand back to back and revolve, one talking while the other lip-syncs. In another, they face each other and shift their weight like ungainly fencers.

Brightening the stark stage, they produce fire-engine-red accessories from their suitcases: a sweater, an umbrella, a hat, a shawl. Herbilla chews on a red pipe. Roth plays cat's cradle with some string. They don shoes. Meanwhile, Handke's text becomes subtly more pointed and rebellious, until the final sentences, which lunge in with an ironic twist.

Although often gimmicky, the visual and vocal ploys stave off monotony without obscuring Handke's hypnotic sketch of an individual shaking a fist at society. Perhaps with top-drawer acting, the piece could detonate like a philosophical firecracker. As presently cast, however, it's more of a misfire.

Self-Accusation, by Peter Handke, translated by Michael Roloff. Directed by B. Stanley; assistant director, Rachel Reed; sound design, Nate Taylor; 50 minutes. Through May 31 at the D.C. Arts Center, 2438 18th St. NW. Call 202-462-7833 or visit http://www.theatredujour.org and http://www.dcartscenter.org.