Buried Child was equally dark and horrifying in script and in the 1996 Broadway production. From the get-go, the play is witty; Dodge and Halie are bickering in a way that’s all too familiar. However, it was very different watching it than it was reading it. In my head, the interaction went much faster. The groans and shouts were quicker, simply humorous. While watching the film, I kept wishing that it would go faster because it was exhausting watching Dodge- almost as exhausting as it must have felt for Dodge. It was almost as if the film wanted us to feel as stuck in time as the family was. Any theme of abandonment was amplified in the film because there was a clear emptiness. From the beginning, it was strange watching Dodge sitting alone while Halie screamed from the top of the stairs. Even though I knew she was offstage, it was easier to see how alone the characters were on film. Dodge and his sons rarely were close to each other. It seemed like the closest characters got to each other (besides the affair between Father Dewis and Halie) was when Bradley stuck his fingers in Shelly’s mouth.
Which brings us to another moment- what was up with the fingers in Shelly’s mouth? It was offsetting to read, but even more uncomfortable to watch. It was more aggressive than I imagined and so slow. In that moment, Bradley is powerful and threatening, but we see that followed by him powerless after he loses his leg, dragging himself all around the living room. The shift in power is much easier to keep your eye on in the film. You see the physical decay of Vince, the gradual comfort that Shelley begins to feel, how pathetic Father Dewis is. The production plays up the dynamics of the characters or at least forces you to really take notice.
