Katie Northlich has that commanding sort of physical presence that can hold a room with ease. There is a boldness in her look, an assuredness in her movements that can compel you to watch, whether she’s meekly sipping a glass of tea, or absently raking a hand through her hair while at the end of her tether. But, as her self-authored, one woman show, The Panic Diaries, playing at the Studio in Cherry Lane Theatre, amply demonstrates, she is a consummate actress, and no doubt can make herself invisible in a crowd if she so desired. Some dark glasses might be useful to this end, as she is possessed of a pair of large, glancing eyes that betray the intelligence and watchfulness within. Likely she is aware of this, as she uses their impact to focus an audience, and their watchfulness in appropriating the behavioral niceties of different character types. As an actress she is altogether self-possessed. Which makes it most interesting that the several characters she brings to life in this show are very much the opposite; people who have somehow lost themselves in the act of becoming what they believe is expected of them. On a psychological level, this particular malaise must be the classic actor’s dilemma. Adept at becoming someone else, they experience difficulty merely being themselves. So, for all her poise here, we can believe that she knows something of what she speaks.

We are presented with an unnamed woman, alone in her apartment, beset by the troubling sense that she has somehow, somewhere, lost the plot of her life. To her diary she pours out fears and frustrations, lamenting a feeling that things have lost their meaning, their value, their taste. Nothing survives as a refuge – her identity, her aspirations, her relationships. It is a dark and lonely place. Panic ensues. Each imploding diary encounter moves us along to a sketch featuring a new character Northlich gamely embodies in situations both banal – at a department store exploring bridal registry gift options – and pathological – a well-heeled southern woman comes apart in the course of a coffee date with friends. All of her women are, in some sense, heart-breakingly pathetic, even as Northlich, a natural comedian with a fluid expressivity, raises the comical pitch to hilarious levels. An explosive young chatterbox, visiting a gynecologist, erupts into a non-stop spiel about her profligate sex life to a hapless stranger in the waiting room, establishing new dimensions around the term inappropriate. It is both ridiculously funny and terribly sad. Which is to say it is the best sort of theatre. Before this character has even opened her mouth, with just the restless flick of her eye play, Northlich has delivered us the hopelessly narcissistic soul of the young woman.

All of her women suffer from a compulsion to say something that has unsettling consequences. A homeless woman, begging at a store entrance, is reliant on the store keeper’s daily charitable gift of a single cigarette. But she can’t stop herself sounding off at one of his customers and consequently unwittingly forfeits her smoke privileges. A nervous encounter between past college lovers prompts a young woman to carelessly divulge that she had a secret abortion following their break-up. The true self, long ignored and repressed, will eventually out. Spurned and un-nurtured, it is not surprising that rage will be leading.

There is a fine balance between the comedy of the sketches and the relentlessly self-questioning diarist’s scenes. Perhaps the solemn, unwavering tone of the diarist is overshadowed by the finer plumage worn by the sketch characters, but this tug-of-war feeds into the larger theme of imbalance, polarization, and self-alienation. There is art in it. Concentrated and, at just one hour and ten minutes, winningly brief, the whole performance is a tonic and a salutary riposte to the Sex and the City set, for whom Life seems reducible merely to the mother and father of all shopping lists (check off as you go). Director Joe Ricci uses a craftily light hand, allowing Northtlich to come through fully. Really there’s no call for panic here; everyone – characters, actor, and audience – are very nicely served.

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The Panic Diaries

Katie Northlich
Writer: Katie Northlich
Director: Joe Ricci
1h 10m  
www.thepanicdiaries.com
VENUE #18: The Studio at Cherry Lane Theatre
Fri 26 @ 6 Sat 27 @ 3 Sun 28 @ 4

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Within seconds of meeting Sunilda Caraballo you’re smiling back at her – because besides greeting you with a long rambling hello, she’s turned on a thousand watt smile that’s impossible to not return.  Bubbly, energetic and easy to be with, Sunilda welcomes you into the mess of her apartment that can’t seems to stay clean now that she’s had a baby.  What starts as idle chatter about how her life has changed – no sleep, a 3 minute shower once a week, and never feeling like she’s going to catch up – slowly evolves into a memoir of her young life: Hardware Dreams.  Written by Caraballo and directed by Joe Ricci, this young girl’s journey from the town of Santurce, Puerto Rico to New York City is served up like a dish of plantains – some sweet, some savory, but all deliciously satisfying.

Caraballo’s accent is thick, but from the onset she makes it work for her in an amusing skit where she recreates a moment when she’s asked to audition for a Telemundo spot and it’s clear that the casting director can’t understand a word of what she’s saying.  From that moment on it’s okay if a few words don’t quite make it through – the gist is explained powerfully in the many characters Caraballo takes on to bring her childhood alive for you.  So many characters, in fact, that I lost count – but each and every one of them well carved and distinctly unique.  Included in this troupe is all the members of her overflowing family  (Mother, Father, Aunt, siblings and dogs), her classmates and teachers, and the many customers who frequent her family’s Hardware Store (or, as she so charmingly puts it . . .The Hardware).

Though we never leave Caraballo’s living room, she is so animated a storyteller that it becomes easy to envision the neighborhood she creates around her – like the Chicken and Candy Store (where you can watch your live chicken be killed, and plucked . . . and then buy some candy too!).  A star turn by far is the Multiplication Rapping Contest she re-creates (No cursing or Lambada steps! her ancient teacher warns) where she literally stops the show cold with an amazing dance rap combo about – yes – the multiplication tables.

Interweaving moments of dance, song, comedy, and even sadness, Caraballo’s world beings to take form so clearly that by the end it’s worth giving a standing ovation.

With only a very short run that’s already half over, you’ll want to get to it as soon as you can.  I promise, you’ll leave with a smile on your face, and a tear in your eye.

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