Artist Henry Darger built a universe. 'Bughouse' merely knocks at the door

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By Matthew Wexler

A complex artist is ripe source material for the stage. It won Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine the Pulitzer Prize for Drama for Sunday in the Park With George, a rich exploration of the life of Post-Impressionist painter Georges Seurat. Creators Martha Clarke and Beth Henley take a decidedly different approach with Bughouse, a 70-minute, beautifully designed rumination on the life, art, and writings of Henry Darger.

Who? That might be part of the problem. Lesser-known historical figures aren’t, in and of themselves, the issue. Look at what Lin-Manuel Miranda did with Hamilton. The problem here is that the show’s creators have mistaken subject for story. And unless you’re an art historian or have arrived at the Vineyard Theatre 30 minutes early to read the extensive dramaturgical materials displayed throughout the lobby, Bughouse lands more like a gnat despite Neil Patel’s kaleidoscopic production design.

All atmosphere, no arc

John Kelly in "Bughouse" at Vineyard Theatre. — John Kelly in “Bughouse” at Vineyard Theatre. Photo by Carol Rosegg.

Darger’s body of work was discovered shortly before the recluse, who worked as a hospital janitor and dishwasher, died in 1973. Among the findings were a 15,000-page novel, a decade-long weather journal, and over 350 watercolor paintings—some nearly as large as his modest Chicago apartment.

Darger was only four years old when his mother passed, his disabled father then shipped him off to an asylum for “Feeble-Minded Children.” Art historian Michael Bonesteel describes him as “probably the greatest Outsider artist in the art brut canon.”

Bughouse stars performance and visual artist John Kelly, whose past commissions range from La Mama to London’s Tate Modern. He’s got plenty to play with on Patel’s intentionally cluttered set, which comes to breathtaking life through projections (John Narun), cinematography (Fred Murphy), and animation (Ruth Lingford).

But for all the effort, Clarke and Henley fail to sculpt a captivating story arc. Instead, we’re left with 70 minutes of ramblings—likely a reflection of the real-life artist’s struggles with mental illness and social disorders. Kelly appears swallowed by the enormity of it all, leaving us to wonder what Henry Darger’s life might have been had the world valued and nurtured rather than shunned him.