Anne Washburn's 'The Burning Cauldron of Fiery Fire' needs more time to simmer

By Billy McEntee

Toward the end of the first act of The Burning Cauldron of Fiery Fire, a member of a shared-living home issues a cute warning for the play-within-the-play that’s about to be presented: “You’ll find a range of acting skills represented.”

Fortunately, that warning was only for the play-within-the-play: the ensemble cast in Anne Washburn’s world premiere play is overall assured; it is the play that is uneven.

Cricket Brown, Tom Pecinka, Bruce McKenzie, and Marianne Rendon in "The Burning Cauldron of Fiery Fire." — Cricket Brown, Tom Pecinka, Bruce McKenzie, and Marianne Rendon in “The Burning Cauldron of Fiery Fire.” Photo by Carol Rosegg.

Somewhere in foggy northern California, a handful of people wishing to escape capitalism and live more intentionally with the land have formed a community with their blood and found families. They raise pigs, share meals, say grace. There are real children (doubled by the cast, including a particularly game Donnetta Lavinia Grays) and a loose hierarchy (with a mighty Bruce McKenzie as the most senior and vociferous community member).

Then there’s Milo (Bobby Moreno), a child who occasionally breaks the fourth wall to, as an adult, discuss the community in the past tense. He’s left, but his growth is given little thought. Memory plays offer an emotional through-line and a lens for examining past events and characters. Washburn neither maximizes the promise of this vehicle nor experiments with it enough to subvert it. Its use is confusing, as are the contours of each character—Simon (Jeff Biehl) is particularly underused.

Tom Pecinka and Marianne Rendon in "The Burning Cauldron of Fiery Fire." — Tom Pecinka and Marianne Rendon in “The Burning Cauldron of Fiery Fire.” Photo by Carol Rosegg.

Nonetheless, Washburn’s script note reads, “Not a moment of this should be played for satire. Give everyone full credit.” However, in Steve Cosson’s direction at The Vineyard, movement sequences look ripped from Saturday Night Live. (In fact, there’s another memory play about SNL’s original cast, Not Ready For Prime Time, also playing Off-Broadway.)

What is most compelling—and what seems to be why Milo is remembering this story—is the death of Peter (Tom Pecinka). The community has welcomed births, but death was new to it. Then, Peter’s brother (also Pecinka in an invigorating turn) stops by seeking answers. Watching the community navigate questions they haven’t yet asked is intriguing. Watching Washburn navigate the play’s overall intention, however, is less fertile.