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March 6, 2006 | by  | in Theatre |
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Conspiracy 911

I know. We have all had it up to here with the whole September 11 brouhaha. I mean really, who actually gives a flying fuck anymore. I don’t care who bombed those buildings. I don’t care if it was Al Qa’eda, the CIA, the New World Order, the Elders of Zion (also known as Mossad) or reptilian aliens from outer space. I just don’t care. But come to think of it, it was surprisingly convenient (for the aforementioned agencies)…

But Allen still does care. Unfortunately, he was one of the many humans for whom September 11 was more than just a minor inconvenience (i.e. grounded flights) and a prolonged, banal, over-the-top outpouring of artificial public emotion. September 11 ruined Allen’s 21st birthday. As a result, this troubled young man cycles into a spiral of depression, anxiety and an unhealthy obsession over 911 related conspiracies. Starting with the stupid white man himself and moving lefter and lefter (and thus crazier and crazier) Conspiracy 911 catalogues the last few years of Allen’s rather pathetic life.

James Amos performs adequately in the show. On the one hand, he excels in his role as the protagonist, Allen. His performance is extremely consistent and changes of character are instantly recognizable. Likewise, when performing as the supporting characters in Allen’s tortured existence, such as his unhygienic best mate ‘Smell’ or hippy and borderline girlfriend ‘Moonbeam’, he is convincing and enjoyable. On the other hand, however, when Amos takes on the roles of various insta-pundits in order to deliver the monologues outlining the various conspiracies, from unfeasible to downright bizarre, his characterization becomes extremely unstuck mainly due to his appalling use of accents (American characters shouldn’t really sound like they stepped out of Braveheart).

Conspiracy 911 is vaguely enjoyable but unfortunately rather tired and trite, filled with the same sort of September 11 jokes that have been circling around since September 13. It doesn’t really offer anything new and leaves one wondering: ‘What’s the point?’

By James and Cheryl Amos, performed by James Amos
BATS 22 Feb – 24 Feb

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About the Author ()

HAILING FROM the upper-middle- class hell of Havelock North, Jules is in the final semester of a bachelor’s degree in Trenchermanship (majoring in Gourmandry), is a self-professed Anarcho-Dandy and resides in the Aro Valley. He likes to spend his days pursuing whimsical follies of every sort and his evenings gallivanting through the bars and restaurants of Wellington in search of the perfect wine list. He has unfailingly dedicated his life to the excessive consumption of food and drink (despite having no discernable way of paying for it), and expects to die of simultaneous heart and kidney failure at thirty-nine. His only hope is that very soon people will start to pay him for his opinions (of which he is endowed with aplenty). Jules has a penchant for vintage Oloroso.

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