Joel Jones and Pam Rogers cuddle post show on the back porch at joey’s [186 Avenue B, New York] while celebrating the latest smash run of fast-paced Barhoppers plays performed in bleeding edge bars in Brooklyn, some so hip you probably haven’t heard of them.Masterfully directed without artifice by accountant/auditer cum auteur/actor John Schnatterly, writer (and musician and actor) Joel Jones’ unique blend of searing yet subtly cerebral social commentary and engaging silliness wasn’t wasted on the (equally compelling) audience members. Intimately placed amidst the action, the audience became participant, tangibly, sometimes damply feeling not only the subtle anguish of Pam’s emotionally buffeted, yet well-anchored Denise (a welcome sea-change from one-dimensional Denises who’ve come and gone in the night!) and the pragmatic consciousness of her bartender, the earnestness of Joel’s Answer Man (the character in the eponymous play), but even the swish of Skye Howell Henley’s magical Red Dress as she gasped her last breath in a death scene that puts Paul Reuben’s exquisite demise in Buffy — the Vampire Slayer (the movie) to shame.And then, there’s Ben Jones. From the moment I watched Ben Jones play Aerosmith’s Dream On with only his accordian (and a hat) in a crappy absurdist play written by some feminist hack in Charlottesville some 14-15 years ago, I haven’t been able to tear my eyes from him when he enters a stage … or walks into a room … or a bar. Ben was quietly, captivatingly, convincingly each of three characters. In the Crossing, he was both restrained and absolutely transfixing. Poet Gary Snyder once described Zen poet Ko Un in a way that applies equally to Ben Jones onstage — or offstage:
Not just holding his Zen insightsAnd their miraculous workingstight to himselfNot holding back to mystify,Playful and demotic,Zen-silly, real-life deep.And a real-world poet!