Theater Review | One Night Only Performance of ‘Dream Mechanic’ Was A Masterful Evening of Physical Theater

In the world of theater, mime isn’t usually the form you expect to trigger visceral reactions. Logically, you know the actor isn’t really crashing into a wall, being menaced by a malevolent balloon, or having his mind turned inside out.

And yet, in Dream Mechanic, those illusions landed with raw intensity. Through a fusion of neo-classic clowning, mime, and physical comedy, the performance made it feel as though those impossible scenarios were unfolding in real time.

That’s the craft behind the combined 95 years of stage experience that James Donlon and Luciano Brindisi brought to the Community Arts Workshop (CAW) on October 1.

“The [CAW] is a multi-use space designed to host a wide variety of events,” said Casey Caldwell, executive director. “Whether it’s theater, art exhibits, community meetings or music performances, we are [averaging about] one event a week.”

Hues of pink and purple lights flooded over the white-painted brick room, the environment warm and welcoming among the small, intimate crowd. Co-producer and stage manager Joseph Velasco saw the CAW space as an opportunity to debut a new lighting system — and his vision paid off.

Curious chatter filled the air until the inner workings of Donlon’s mind came to life onstage.

“He is a force of nature,” said Velasco. “To put it lightly, he knows what he’s doing. His body just speaks and breathes physicality.”

For more than two decades, Donlon was a faculty member of UC Santa Barbara’s theater arts department and has been overwhelmingly celebrated for his eclectic productions. He went on to coach Academy Award winners, found international schools for physical theater, and teach in some of the most prestigious MFA acting programs in the country.

Longtime friend and publicist Maureen “Mo” McFadden recalls the first time she saw Donlon perform in the early 1990s: “I was completely knocked over by it,” she said. “Each time I saw him perform, I thought to myself, ‘that’s exactly the type of theater I want to do, the type of theater I want to see’.”

Argentine co-actor Brindisi is an internationally renowned master of mime and clowning whose career has taken him to more than 100 cities across South America and Europe. It quickly became clear why his work earned him multiple awards in arts education. 

McFadden admitted she hadn’t known Brindisi before the production: “But if [Donlon] wanted to work with him, I knew he was going to be fabulous.”

And he was. Billed as a “cartoon come to life,” Brindisi did not disappoint. Animated, fluid, inhuman facial expressions and body movements were a centerpiece to the performance. He barely spoke and yet the audience couldn’t control themselves when he simply raised an eyebrow. 

A bilingual performance in English and Spanish, Dream Mechanic journeys through the surreal visions of an Old Man struggling with his own psyche. Based on Donlon’s personal nightmares, the two performers wove together roughly six dream sequences, leading to the refrain: “I need a dream mechanic. I need to get rid of these nightmares,” Donlon’s Old Man declared.

I was enthralled, to say the least. Donlon, nearly 80, and Brindisi, with very little English, didn’t let those barriers prevent them from delivering one of the most visceral and captivating performances I’ve ever seen. 

I went in skeptical  and wondered whether the lack of dialogue would inhibit the storytelling. But it proved to be quite the opposite and left me with philosophical takeaways I would never have begun to think about on my own accord.

“Miming is conducive to surrealism,” Donlon said after the show. “The dream state lends itself to physical theater, it’s like poetry and sculpture, an art form.”

He’s right. Each dream revolved around internal struggles, introspective questions, spontaneous Spanish ukulele ballads, shifting props, and Brindisi transforming genders, characters, and even species nearly 20 times throughout the piece.

The performance swung between absurd comedy and unnerving tension. In one scene, Brindisi’s mock “surgery” on Donlon’s mind was performed with such precision that I writhed in discomfort and nearly covered my eyes.

In the closing tableau, a lone black balloon personified the root of his suffering, and the two actors fought desperately against it. Their struggle was so believable, I could have sworn the balloon had a pulse. Punches flew, groans echoed, until a single loud pop ended the fight.

The two embraced as soft light poured over their exhausted shoulders, mirroring the opening image of the show. Hunched over, holding each other’s faces, they sighed in relief. The nightmares were over.

Afterward, the actors stepped out of character to take audience questions: How do you get so deeply into character? What did the black balloon represent? How do you decide when to mime and when to speak?

Donlon’s passion seeped through his answers, his voice brimming with the energy of a successful performance. Dream Mechanic was just the beginning of this tour, with stops in Oregon and San Francisco to come.

And to think — the two had only been rehearsing for two weeks. You wouldn’t have believed it. I certainly didn’t.