select publication to read review:	> Scotsman > The List > Glasgow Herald	> Financial Times > Three Weeks > Vox	> Los Vegas Review > CityLife > Financial Times
Wreck at the Airline Barrier. Scotsman. 8.17.2004. Mark Brown.	A fantastically well crafted cauldron of dramatic chaos, the aptly named Riot Group's Wreck the Airline Barrier is possibly the most visceral, disturbing and cerebral piece of theatre you will see on the Fringe this year. Set on board a troubled passenger flight, this work should finally kill the joke about the lecturer who went to the United States to teach irony as a second language. These young Americans have created an inspired, sinister satire of modern society, a bizarre cross-breed of Franz Kafka and Lenny Bruce. The play positively drips with fear, hatred, self-loathing and alienation. If that sounds like an emotional rollercoaster ride, that is because it is. The labyrinthine script of glass-sharp fragments of language and the violently unleashed performances are simply incendiary.	You can sit back, but I defy you to make yourself comfortable as the Riot Group provides you with your "emergency entertainment". For first-class passengers there is, in addition to sexual favours from the cabin crew, a short talk on the social detritus responsible for the moral degradation that is "Mercedes-Benz defacement". Lesser human beings must make do with the in-flight magazines which might just change their world view. Combined with casual Hitler admiration, latent white supremacism and super-Freudian sexual anxieties, we have well and truly arrived in the realm of the very darkest humour. The central characters, although they function more as the discordant vehicles of the abstract plays of Gertrude Stein than as personalities, are described as "motivational speakers", but you will be too disquieted by what is motivating them to care what that means. This is genuinely avant-garde theatre, a modern stage equivalent of Luis Bunuel and Salvador Dail's film Un Chien Andalou, a metaphorical razor across your dramatic eye.	The performers and writer prefer to remain anonymous. This, like so much else in the work, ties their extraordinary live art to the experimental theatre of the Twenties and Thirties; I almost expected to be handed a Futurist manifesto as I left. As should be clear by now, this play will be simply too weird and too explosive (you might be hit by a flying expletive) for some. An acquired taste it may be, but Wreck the Airline Barrier is one of the most excoriating plays this critic has seen in a long time, truly an exhilarating and terrifying powerhouse of dramatic inventiveness. > return to top
Wreck the Airline Barrier. The List. 8.19.2004. Adam Dudding.	Steve, Stone, and Sarah are three peppy Americans who meet each other, and their fate, on a passenger flight to Spain. They each say goodnight to their kids on their mobile phones as they drive to the airport, share their fears of flying while waiting in the departure lounge, then board their flight (where the meal choices are "chicken or egg"). Later on, the plane will crash.	This is a bizarre, intense, and very funny play about America, motivational speaking, religion, mindless optimism and suburban fascism. On a minimal set in a tiny venue, three actors, dressed like Mormon door-knockers, bombard the audience with self-help cliches, new-age drivel and far-right apologism, voices interweaving like soloists playing a triple concerto.	The cast attack the script with an almost worrying seriousness, unsmiling through all the vicious irony and absurd humour (typical line: "The Hitler inside you is hurting, Steve. Did I ever tell you that?"), and by the end, they have degenerated into full-throated swearing, shouting and sweating - just the sort of thing that gives fringe theatre a bad name. But their sheer conviction pulls the audience right inside their nightmare; you don't just witness a descent into pre-crash terror and hatred, you are part of it. I came out deafened, dazed and confused. Dazzling. > return to top
Wreck the Airline Barrier. Glasgow Herald. 8.19.2004. Stephanie Noblett.	The first attempt at reviewing this show was foiled by multiple technical failures and collapsing scenery, earning the company a Herald Devil. At the second attempt there weren't enough chairs. Squatting on the floor in the oppressive heat of an airless Fringe venue could put many a reviewer in a less than kindly mood, but this show is so stunning all is quickly forgiven.	The three young actors of New York company The Riot Group deliver absurd stream of-consciousness-style speeches like true heirs of David Mamet and Sam Shepard. Their timing is perfect, voices clear as bells. The story is of a plane crash, the script revolving around the concept of "Salvon", half self-help method, half brand name. It's also the name of the airline they're flying on, and the surname of all three characters, who damn themselves regularly through their plastic smiles with fascist lapses.	The over-riding theme is that the world is not a safe place, it just pretends to be, and that fear is at the root of half of society's problems. As the pilot says: "If you hadn't been so scared we might not have crashed." It's genuinely frightening. A thrilling piece of theatre. > return to top
Wreck the Airline Barrier. Financial Times. 8.21.2004. Ian Shuttleworth.	The Riot Group's remarkable Wreck The Airline Barrier (Garage Theatre) is a loud, rapid-fire dialogue piece centering on three plane passengers, which manages to shoehorn in Hitler, bizarre religious concepts, marketing and self-improving in-flight videos among a host of other topics; it is an intelligent, provoking piece, but noteworthy also in that it draws more and faster laughs than most comedy shows I have seen this year, and keeps the audience thoroughly engaged in what must be one of the most uncomfortable, airless venues on the current Fringe. This American student company will undoubtedly go places, although possibly not by air. > return to top
Wreck Airline Barrier. Three Weeks. 8.21.2004. Staff Review.	You could quibble. About ten minutes too long and relentlessly heavy-handed, this is also an absolutely phenomenal piece of work. Assorted plane staff and passengers board a transatlantic flight.	Lost in a world of slogans and trapped in an imploding society, they grasp at whatever comes their way - everyday routine, racism, homophobia, self-help manuals - as their thoughts and words overlap and collide.	The plane spins out of control, while its passengers juggle discourses of power and control. Searing, sadistic, crushing - and utterly unmissable. > return to top
Wreck the Airline Barrier. Vox. 8.8.2004. Cathleen P. Warren.	For those who missed out on this week's installment of experimental theater, one of the best productions passed through Burlington en route to Scotland's Fringe Festival. The Riot Group's Wreck the Airline Barrier proved a cleverly written, well-conceived, expertly performed, and all-around tasty bit of biting social satire. Three actors squeezed onto the Rhombus Gallery's itsy stage and delivered a performance so over the top and loaded with criticism of American society that many audience members felt as though they had been run over by a Mack truck. Questions of rage, civil unrest, honesty, and sexuality riddled a script so profane that it made Bad Lieutenant look like the Teletubbies With skilled syncopation and near-constant eye contact with the audience, the cast produced a bitterly uncomfortable mix of tension and anticipation. The premise was this: three motivational speakers get on a flight to Spain accompanied by a mentally unstable airline staff and a cabin crammed with angst, fear, and sideshow-quality debauchery. Over the course of the doomed flight, the audience witnesses the passengers shift from confident, positive affirmation-spewing jabberers to screeching, retching, downright ugly shreds of themselves evoking the lowest common denominators of society. Adolph Hitler is discussed as a hero because, although he did commit genocide, at least he believed in something. When one character describes getting soap in her eyes, she tells herself "At least I'm not in a concentration camp" and the pain goes away.	The recurring mantra of "Salvon" originates as a calming cooing Amen-like synonym for all things holy, but erodes into childish blathering as the plane experiences hydraulic failure. Bulimia is portrayed as a badge of courage. The defacement of the Mercedes-Benz is considered a crime of horrific proportions. Stephanie Viola, as "Sarah", delivers a fire-eating performance whether hurling obscenely nasty profanities at the audience or interpreting her son's spooky incest-suggesting poem "Mommy Loves My". She shifts brilliantly between the role of passenger and the unbearably perky stewardess who longs for her flying talking teddy bear. Drew Friedman portrays "Steve", a husband and father hell-bent on committing adultery because he believes his wife won't mind. His turn as the high-volume pilot blasts such energy that one wonders if crystal meth has made inroads in Burlington. Playwright Adriano Shaplin, as "Stone," seethes with raw fury as he evolves from airplane-phobic to sexual monster busy assaulting a fellow passenger. Whether vomiting due to the mention of the word "tampon" or obsessively combing his hair or fantasizing about sticking his tongue in a 14 year-old's ear, Shaplin's performance goes full throttle without exploding messily.	Shaplin's vision for Wreck the Airline Barrier represents something Burlington doesn't see much of: true raw experimental theater. When first performed at Sarah Lawrence College, the play caused threats of expulsion to be cast on the actors. It's no wonder sensitive folks jumped to conclusions (the play contains a segment where all three actors jump to their feet and vehemently Sieg Heil), but Wreck the Airline Barrier is hardly a piece of inflammatory shock theater. Shaplin and his cast have sculpted a sophisticated study of the roots of racism, sexism, capitalism, and social injustice, revealing the hypocrisy between what people think and what they say. The Riot Group is the most promising experimental troupe the Queen City has witnessed in years, even though they all deserve a good spanking. Salvon. > return to top
Wreck the Airline Barrier. Las Vegas Review. 1.25.2000. Carolyn Wardle.	Wreck the Airline Barrier isn't your mother's usual fix of theatrical high culture. And Adriano Shaplin isn't your typical angst-burdened young playwright. His play is a fascinating stream-of-consciousness poem that skewers just about everything held sacred by anyone, particularly the litany of complaints preciously guarded by upper- and middle-class professionals. Shaplin is definitely not worried about being politically correct. He is concerned about involving the audience. Shaplin refuses to acknowledge the existence of an invisible curtain between audience and players. And he seats the viewer as close to the action as possible, without interfering in the movement and exchanges of Stephanie Viola, Drew Friedman and himself.	The actors perform a flawlessly choreographed verbal dance that raises and relaxes the emotional tension as the three meet as passengers on an airline flight. The conversation of strangers, the desperate need to connect, the inane mantras of modem life; all of these are interwoven throughout the work, creating a montage of satire on the so-called problems of the privileged. But the lucky passengers on this trip to Spain are not so lucky after all. The plane has a complete hydraulic failure and the three strangers must prepare for certain death. This is where a bit of judicious editing might make the experience a little bit more palatable for the audience.	The screaming, the swearing and the tension go on for so long, one is actually quite relieved when the plane finally does crash. But then again, maybe that is the point. This first production by the Rebel Theatre Company, a University of Nevada, Las Vegas student-run organization, shows great promise. Here's to the future of great theater in Las Vegas. > return to top
Wreck the Airline Barrier. CityLife (Las Vegas). 1.27.2000. Staff Review.	By far the best piece of theater news last week was the Rebel Theater Company's import of the East Coast avant-garde Riot Group's Wreck the Airline Barrier. UNLV's Black Box Theater was "shrunk" to less than a third of its size with about only 75 seats and a very low-hanging ceiling. The group (with help from local designer John Gallagher) created an audience and performance space that resembled a sardine-packed aircraft. As you entered the sold-out auditorium, you began to feel some of the angst that would later be projected by the performers. (Although Vegas' Rainbow Company is a noted exception, it's rare that local theater groups give much thought to altering audience space. Yet the physical environment from which we view a show is as much a part of the theater experience as the script.) You knew you were in for something different when you picked up the program and read a series of bad reviews. "One of the worst hours of my life," said one. "I am no shy prude," said another, "but I can't imagine verbalizing, writing or even imagining the stuff that those three creators/actors did."	What those Sarah Lawrence College students did--and what won them a top prize at the 1999 Edinburgh Theater Festival--was create a neurotically driven tone poem about three over-analytical young adults before, during and after an airplane crash. They sat in and around three chairs in front of three hanging pipes, each draped by a small black curtain. They faced the audience as they told us their thoughts. The dialogue was full of nonsensical banter that often somehow made sense. As one reviewer said, "Not only did they lambaste everyone from "nigger-wiggers" to "gay fudgepackers", but they [were] positively obsessed with glorifying Hitler and child molesting." Yeah, no doubt about it, these performers were naughty. But they sure were funny. The script got monotonous once you tuned in to the nonsensical language. The patter didn't have the variety it needed, in character and vocal vitality. But it was at times--particularly in the first half of its 75 minutes--a festival of great rhythms. The growing vocal frenzy--and a great selection of pulsating music--gave the evening a brutal urgency that was both funny and frightening.	Adriano Shaplin is only 20, but already has a veteran actor's command of comic attitude. (He also wrote the bumpy but intriguing script, based on group improvisations and "therapy" sessions.) Drew Friedman is a tall, robot-esque presence who resembles a computer-generated character creation. There's something excitingly digital about him. And Stephanie Viola is a lightning rod of jittery energy. She's capable of creating specific character nuance in the most broadly written comic sketches. She has a great face for the stage, rich with exaggerated features. The audience's verdict was decidedly mixed. For some, the show's flaws upstaged all else. But there's something exciting and immediate about the Riot Group. It's much easier to appreciate its vibrancy when you've sat through hundreds of theater performances that feel as alive as the 20th century. Producer Tye Brown, who spotted the group in Scotland, took some big financial and artistic risks in inviting them to Vegas. His courage paid off. > return to top