Lynn Rosen’s Goldor $ Mythyka: A Hero Is Born is filled with charisma, and little else. Though based on the true story of Roger Dillon and Nicole Boyd, Rosen chooses to ignore the recessionary implications of their action or the dreams and aspirations of two low-level would-be thieves, and instead latches on to the fact that the two apparently enjoyed playing D&D in their free-time. Getting further from the truth, Rosen takes some postmodern liberties with the story, unnecessarily splitting it up between the past, present, and future (“Flashback in a flashback,” shouts the giddy narrator at one point)–most likely hoping to distract from the fact that she’s not really communicating all that much with the plot. It says a lot that the strongest part of the production is Bobby Moreno’s energetic performance as the wisecracking dungeon master . . . and also that, for some reason, Rosen has chosen to make this DM into a DJ; there’s nothing wrong with a fractured fairy tale, mind you, but there isn’t even a moral here, and the play’s niggling loose thread–a mysterious, role-playing Boy (Bubba Weiler) who keeps popping up–is severed by the play’s curtain just before it gets a chance to tie things together.
For the first time, a New Georges production feels as if the substance has been overwhelmed by the style, and perhaps their decision to premiere a twenty-minute fragment back in 2011 left the creative team feeling locked in to what was, at the time, a lively and experimental side-quest. No offense to director Shana Gold, but it’s never clear what the interpretive dance breaks have to do with anything, and although Jenny Seastone Stern’s Mythyka and Garrett Neergaard’s Goldor have been with this production since the beginning, they don’t exactly appear to have much chemistry together, save for an explicit dislike for their mundane jobs. In Stern’s case, there’s at least cause for this, with Rob Leo Roy acting as a lecherous boss, and Kristin Griffith coming across as exactly the sort of scolding parental figure a teenager would want to rebel against; Neergaard gets the short end of the wand, however, and remains inscrutable throughout the play: worse, just as you’re about to feel sorry for the depths of his awkwardness, he gets all violent, thereby justifying every negative thing ever said against a loner.
As with her recent Apple Cove, the work at least leaves you feeling confident that Rosen could be a talented playwright, if only she weren’t so easily distracted by a wont to pull off every narrative style simultaneously. After all, as those who have served as a dungeon master understand, too much freedom comes with a price.