Off Broadway's "Regretfully. So the Birds Are"

The show: “Regretfully, So the Bird Are” at Playwrights Horizons by Julia Izumi, directed by Jenny Loons.

What makes it special?: Any new play at this esteemed theatre which has been the home of countless new works by emerging and established playwrights is worth a visit. Even when they don’t measure up to expectations, they’re nearly always thought-provoking. And this work sounds particularly intriguing.

In what way?:For its blend of the real and the (mostly) surreal. After all, it’s a play where a dead father is reincarnated as a snowman, a daughter is turning the sky into the newest Zillow turf and a flock of birds fight back.

That sounds bizarre: Playwright Izumi uses theatre in a decidedly non-realistic and comic way, through still grounded in human (and here, aviary) emotions. Think of Christopher Durang, Ionesco, and Aristophanes (“The Birds”) and writers who create fantastical places to make their satiric, comic or dramatic points.

And what is the point here?: Izumi explores the world of lost souls, and undefined and unmoored folks seeking an identity, home and a purpose. It’s also about the great — and often absurd — lengths we go in search of self.

Er..OK. So what’s the story?: OK, hold onto your hat.: Meet the Whistler family. Or what’s left of them. Dad, a very bad teacher of Asian culture, is dead (but now reimagined as a snowman in the front lawn); mom is quite bonkers and is now in prison for burning down dad’s home office (with him in it). There are three adopted adult children, all from Asia but from unknown countries. Two of the three are romantically involved— a brother who’s dim (he mistakes Nebraska for Nashville) and a sister who’s a musical success but longs to escape to the sky. The other sister is a bit of a mess and longs to escape her maddening family by seeking out her (perhaps) Cambodia birth mom. And oh yeah, the birds are organizing against an Eton Musk-like plan to own and have housing in the skies.

Sounds….weird: Oh, it is and that’s the point and at least some of the fun. But it still has this disjointed, unfinished feel to it. Some of the performances are better than others (though Kristine Nelson— a veteran of absurd comedy — is hysterical as the crazed mom — until she isn’t , delivering a moving memorial that suddenly wrenches the play into heartfelt realness.) I was never bored and always intrigued while waiting for it to all come together. It never quite did. And I did have reservations about the production.

Reservations?: Whimsy, unless carefully presented and performed, can easily become tiresome. The opening scene is a bit clumsily overwrought — but the actors soon find their groove after that. The bird figures looked, well, a bit cheap. (Perhaps they could have borrow the understudy flock from “The L:ion King” or “The Life of Pii.”) They could have also done better with the set. But I loved Nielsen and Pearl Sun, as a mysterious figure who adds a touch of aura to the work, was sublime.

Who will like it?: Those who like Theater of the Absurd or just absurd theatre.

Who won’t?: Regretfully, birds, though Izumi lets they have their say.

For the kids?: They may be a bit lost in this very American Cloud Cuckooland.

Thoughts on leaving the parking lot: I have to say I loved the title. I know this sounds like a lame compliment but it seems writers have lost interest in titles of plays that are more interpretive, less on-the-money and obvious. Think of Tennessee Williams’ “A Streetcar Named Desire” and “Sweet Bird of Youth,” Albee’s “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” , Kushner’s “Angels in America” and Miller’s “The Crucible.” it’s still nice to come across a title that has some lyricism to it, that strokes a mood, a feeling and allows you to imagine. That’s what Izumi’s play is like, too.