Rediscovering Bogosian resulted from the vacuum that nature sometimes needs to fill. Tony McCain, a bartender at Herbie's who'd engineered the Gong Show nights there, confided he was taking over as General Manager at a new place in the Central West End to be called Nathalie's. It was in the space formerly occupied by several restaurants and on the 2nd floor of the building was a jewel - a miniature night club, perfect for cabaret and smaller shows. I'd had my eye on it in previous lifetimes, and Tony and I agreed that the time and place was right for theatre there. I flashed on Bogosian as the perfect vehicle for a sophisticated, urban setting, and as I dove back into his work, was delighted (and occasionally appalled) by how funny, how strong, and how appropriate his vicious satire still was.

(Bogosian's solo work was far from irrelevant. He had performed 100 MONOLOGUES - 10 different monologues every night over several weeks off-Broadway - and then built a website - 100monologues.com, where he brought several actor friends in and filmed them doing their own versions of his monologue. He also published 100 MONOLOGUES in book form, and friend Brooke Edwards - who was in town to direct QUILLS, which played opposite SEX, DRUGS - saw him at a book event this past summer, and brought me an autographed copy.) So the hunger to do present his work again grew, but the space went away. Tony didn't last long at Nathalie's, a fire at the Nathalie farm restaurant complicated things, and theatre just didn't seem to be in the DNA of Nathalie herself. While I was commiserating with myself over an adult beverage at Herbie's, I learned there was now a sole owner there - Aaron Teitelbaum, who'd himself been an entertainment producer before the restaurant biz. He understood what a show could do to bring in new people to his place, and Sex, Drugs had a home.

I'd done two shows in their wine cellar space under the previous regime of Balaban's, so I knew where to start. I had to start with a new director, however. Herbie's had an opening in the first few weeks of August, when partner and collaborator Sarah Whitney had her annual family trip to Florida. I scouted directors and saw a Slightly Askew production of BACHELORETTE, a fairly hard-hitting contemporary comedy. The director was Rachel Tibbetts, and from that show I knew she not only could handle Bogosian's rough stuff, but also had the skills to help my performance and and to help make the show work. The rehearsal process was seamless, and the run was, occasionally, thrilling. The August time period may have cut into the prospective crowds, and, as expected, none of the local theatre crowd could be bothered to drop by, so some crowds were less than expected, but reviews were stellar, and the final show - a full house mix of ages and walks of life - was a knockout and everything I expected this to be - Bogosian's furious, funny words bringing this small room to boiling, roiling life and squeezing every bit of life and air out of it.

Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll Perks Up the St. Louis Theater Scene with Brilliant One-Man Show
by Malcolm Gay
River Front Times

Oh, come on!

Does the Midnight Company really expect us to spend 75 minutes listening to the fevered ramblings of the aging, vain, brutish and drug-addled misanthropists that populate Eric Bogosian's Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll? Do they really think we'll enjoy — nay, be "transformed," to use one of the character's own formulations — a paranoiac's theory about "The System"? A glib rocker who's come to terms with his own "brilliance"? Or the Hobbesian malcontent who spits that our world is "held together by gross sentimentality and hypocrisy"?

In a word? Yes. Yes, they do — all that and more.

Directed by Rachel Tibbetts and working with a slimmed-down version of Bogosian's ferocious script, Joe Hanrahan leads the audience on a one-man tour of these largely despicable men — refugees of the drug-fueled 1970s who were scattered to the wind like so much shake weed during the blustery Me Decade. Less a play than a piece of performance art, Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll is brilliant, savagely funny, discomfiting and wildly different from most offerings you'll see on St. Louis stages these days.

Bogosian's script maintains its power to provoke, thanks in part to playwright's muscular writing, which traffics in those stygian realms many of us visit, but precious few ever mention. It's also due in large measure to Hanrahan himself, a gifted actor who delivers a thrilling, multilayered performance as he uses only the sparest of props to bring these characters to life.

Performing in the wine cellar of Herbie's Vintage 72, Hanrahan first appears as a recovering addict, homeless and collecting cans. Or is it bottles? Don't make no difference, he assures, he's just trying to earn enough scratch to buy the occasional egg-salad sandwich.

From this humble opening, Hanrahan quickly sets the mood, transforming into one of the show's most provocative characters — an emcee who challenges the audience on its very decision to go to the theater. Maybe you think you'll be transformed, he taunts. Maybe you'll be moved? Yeah. Maybe. But more likely his blood, sweat and tears will have all the impact of a Twinkie gliding down your GI tract en route to the toilet. What does he have to do, he wonders, die onstage? Boy, that'd really make you think — you know, as you text it to a buddy.

No, family theater it ain't. The show is caustic, brutal, scathing and in your face. It is also hilarious, as Hanrahan moves through Bogosian's catalogue of characters, many still reeling from the narcotic excesses of the 1970s. There's the aging rocker — an inane Brit who stands in gilded relief to the homeless man — delivering an anti-drug message while regaling an interviewer with drug-steeped tales of sexual conquest. There's the motivational speaker who makes the case for greed as a means toward happiness, and the self-serving therapy patient who wonders how his ex-wife couldn't have seen how all those late nights out were in fact a "cry for help."

Of course, if it stopped there, Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll would make for only a mildly uncomfortable night of theater. As it is, however, Hanrahan (and by extension Bogosian) doesn't patronize the characters. He doesn't talk down to them or give the audience some knowing nod to the flaws being paraded onstage. Rather, he presents them as they are (or at least as they perceive themselves), compelling the audience to enter the characters' worlds on their own terms — often to frightening effect.

Originally written in 1990, Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll can't help but feel slightly dated at times, for instance as the aging rocker references "We Are the World" while plugging his ridiculous charity to send electronics to Amazonian Indians. Still, the script has been updated and localized with references to iPads and Ladue, while earlier mentions of Dan and Marilyn Quayle have been elided all together.

Unsurprisingly, some character sketches are more successful than others. But each is engaging (or at least brief), and in sum they take you on a journey that — while it may not leave you transformed — will certainly make you think.

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Interesting characters and gritty tales of excess are the heart of 'Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll'
by Tina Farmer
KDHX

Joe Hanrahan's The Midnight Company, known for its intimate productions and one-man shows, delivers another satisfying work with its production of selected monologues by Eric Bogosian in "Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll." The show feels fright at home in the wine cellar of Herbie's Vintage '72 in the Central West End, and Hanrahan expertly fills the space with rundown, but blissfully hopeful, characters.

A nearly empty stage, containing just a bar stool and small table with a few props, is the setting for an evening focused on character and dialogue. This simple set provides all the background and props Hanrahan needs as he guides the audience through a variety of deeply layered and deftly personified monologues examining contemporary life, human nature and the long term results of striving for that elusive, everlasting high.

Whether the high comes from drugs, sexual conquests, the pursuit of money or the adoration of a crowd, each character is still searching for satisfaction and contentment, and finding it harder and harder to achieve. Hanrahan winds his way around the monologues, lingering on details, pausing as he struggles to recapture a fading memory, a feeling of elation that he can no longer reach.

Throughout his performance, Hanrahan creates nuanced characters, finding significant but small differences among characters with a similar backstory -- an aging rock star, an over-the-hill, hard partying drug dealer, a wealthy music executive who needs bigger and more expensive toys -- each of these men have gaping holes through which they experience the world. Yet each retains a certain dignity, an essential humanity that compels them to continue reaching for something more. The result is poignant, sometimes sad, stories that reek with human frailty even as the men puff their chests with false bravado and limp assurances.

In an ironic twist, it may be the opening character, a homeless man living just looking to cash in enough bottles and cans to buy an egg salad sandwich and cup of coffee. The coffee is optional at this point, he mentions to the audience on several occasions. At his current pace, he gets a meal about every other day and, though his health is failing more than he is willing to admit, the character is both pleasant and positive, valuing what he has more than what he lacks. It's a lesson the other characters could use.

While it is Hanrahan on stage, Rachel Tibbett's firm, straightforward direction is clearly evident; when combined with Joe's continuous exploration of character this is a good -- potentially great - pairing. The characters are more distinct, more interestingly distinguished, and the monologues more clearly separated than in other Midnight Company shows I have seen. As an audience member, I appreciated the balance and intensity of the performance and would like to see the two of them work together again.

I also found the contemporary references, including new stories, technology and social media that were sprinkled throughout the monologues. They helped to keep the show fresh and, when contrasted with some of the tales of stars now considered classics, set the period well.

One small problem for me was how nice, clean and new Hanrahan's costume was. While the style was suitable for the majority of the characters, the outfit simply looked too freshly laundered and not nearly worn enough for the majority of the characters performed. A minor detail, I easily got beyond, allowing me to enjoy an evening of nostalgia mixed with a touch of both hedonism and wisdom.

The Midnight Company's production of "Sex, Drugs, Rock and Roll" runs through August 17, 2014. For reservations or more information, visit the web site.

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Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll'
by Ann Pollack
St. Louis Eats and Drinks

"And who carries around an egg salad sandwich in their pocket?"

That's a sample of dialogue from "Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll". It's Joe Hanrahan, our own Man In Black and leading local purveyor of author Eric Bogosian's works, in the opening monologue of this 75-minute spree. This particular fellow is a street person who collects bottles "and cans! - mustn't forget, cans, too!"; nine other individuals follow the bottleman's appearance, all in the form of Hanrahan.

This is surely an actor's eqivalent of a couple of hours of cardio exercise, no breaks except to throw on a jacket or remove a hat, no one to bounce lines off, just the actor, the lights and the audience. It's intimate, as all Hanrahan's one-man shows are. He's using the cellar at Herbie's Vintage 72, and that makes it easy for the audience to bring a glass of wine or a cocktail down with them. In fact, one thoughtful guy brought his female companion an order of the chocolate fritters, a signature dish of the restaurant - they did, however, manage to finish them before the performance began, and thank you very much for that, sir.

If you aren't familiar with Bogosian, the title should give you some clue that strong subject matter is at hand. He has little sympathy for few of his characters except the bottleman. Despite the play's being more than twenty years old, it's held up well, with a few minor changes - I'm pretty sure Bogosian's original script didn't refer to Schnuck's. Whacks at religion, greed, self-aggrandizing self-help, celebrity, all pass under his gimlet eye.

It's rough going, not very cheerful, although quite funny much of the time. And anyone who can get humor out of some of these situations deserves plaudits. Hanrahan doens't miss a beat. At times one has to remind oneself that this is the same guy that a few minutes ago was being the divorced father talking to his therapist. Voices change, facies change, Hanrahan remains.

Funny, yes, but like much satire - because that's what this is, essentially - it's tough stuff. No intermission; just head upstairs for a good stiff drink and avoid looking at the baseball scores.

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Review: Hanrahan Brings 'Sex, Lies, Rock & Roll' Characters to Desperate Life
Alive Magazine
BY: CHRISTOPHER REILLY

In the 20 plus years since Eric Bogosian first performed "Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll" in New York—a string of monologues that together tell the story of the downtrodden, the has-beens, and societal renegades—it hasn't lost any of its relevancy. The mass of men are still leading lives of quiet desperation, even more so now. In the current production playing in the cellar at Herbies, Joe Hanrahan steps into several characters like a second skin and takes the audience on a frequently funny, impactful trip that allows all of us to look at life from a different perspective. Joe Hanrahan stars in "Sex, Lies, Rock & Roll" Courtesy of The Midnight Company

Hanrahan is no stranger to Bogosian's work, and his familiarity with the style of material benefits him here. Moving easily from one character to the next with the simple addition of a coat or a cigar, Hanrahan transitions from, for example, a homeless bottle collector—"or cans…bottles or cans…doesn't matter"—to an aging rock star (who, in his own way, is scavenging for nickels and dimes) without missing a beat. The show delves into the hypocrisy of America's class system and the economic exploitation that keeps the rich and privileged on top and the poor and desperate down. The American dream is more illusion than reality, the play suggests; a mere carrot dangled before the mule-headed populace.

Director Rachel Tibbetts and Hanrahan have created an evening of compelling theater that prods the audience to consider how we ourselves interact in this world that fails so many. Are we even on the side of the divide we think we are? Is it all just a flip of the coin? The cellar at Herbies is a great space for this show; small, intimate, the audience captured in Hanrahan's magic web, even as the characters are captive in their less-than-enchanted lives.

Hanrahan doesn't condescend to his characters or make fun of them, but rather portrays each with deep sincerity and a sense of fair play. It would be easy, after all, to make them hollow characters and play them as exaggerated cartoons, but Hanrahan never does. Instead he presents each as a fully-realized human being that we can feel empathy, concern and alarm for. The homeless bottle collector who inhabits the first scene of the evening puts his unwashed finger on it: "Underneath it all," says the man, "we're exactly the same."

"Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll" runs through Sunday, Aug. 17. For tickets and information visit The Midnight Company website.

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