When you hear the phrase “downtown theater,” perhaps some images or memories come to mind–something weird, nonlinear, probably low-budget, maybe devised, something you’d call “experimental.” Perhaps that memory is of something at Soho Rep, beloved off-Broadway theater that, since the 80s, has been a home for the avant-garde.

the senior gentleman sitting next to me sighed audibly enough times to telegraph his disinterest to every audience member within a two-row radius. and though i did experience some moments of flatness in alina troyano and branden jacobs-jenkins’ give me carmelita tropicana!, it’s hard for me to walk out of soho rep disappointed.

Often when I attend a play described as “avant-garde,” “experimental,” or “downtown,” unease grips my body as I remember the blank stares I gave my grad school professors as they effortlessly unraveled the layers of plays like Adrienne Kennedy’s Funnyhouse of a Negro or Des McAnuff’s Leave It to Beaver is Dead.