3rd
Annual New York International Fringe Festival 
**Fringe Excellence Awards given out August
29th**"Lily" written and performed by Abbie Schachner at the New York International Fringe Theater Festival, Surf Reality Reviewed by Antonio Sacre for for Theatre Reviews Limited A performance art therapist walks on stage and describes the patients she has successfully worked with: a child who lost both hands trying to retrieve a match box car from the garbage disposal who now is a puppeteer; a fired Mexican chef who now reads tortilla chips to tell the future, and herself, who lost both kidneys in a bar and now deals with the hurt her father gave her. Schachner is one of those rare writing talents that has the capacity to surprise to laughter, horrify to silence, and turn phrases that leave us scratching our heads, wondering how she just did that. The last patient we encounter is Lily, who's entrance is in utero, crouching on top of a chair in profile, bathed in red light, holding a red boa to her stomach, while the sound of a heartbeat pulsates over the speakers. "My eyes are closed, and I can't see . . . " Schachner climbs off the chair, wraps the boa around her neck, and becomes Lily's mom. Her husband just left her to explore his inner woman, and as she expertly mimes putting on makeup, she sings a little song to her stomach, who's last line is "Don't be a homo." Then Lily begins her birth journey, "I'm beginning to feel like an old man in a bar" as she slithers down a chair. It is so poignant, and specific, and touching, that we sit amazed at her skill as a performer. The piece deals with a parent's fear and paranoia that her daughter will become a lesbian, and the daughter's struggle for identity. The mother is brutal, stunningly so in the writing and the acting, and it is amazing that Lily survives. While Schachner had problems with transitions and lines opening night, she still was able to expertly show a daughter's search for identity while forgiving her sick mother. The end result is a rare moment where audience, performer, and story interact at the oddly moving end of "Lily". |