This review originally appeared in LA Theatre Review.
Diary of a Sociopathic Freakazoid as written and directed by Richard Crawford is supposed to be a relentless exploration of the mind of a sociopath and the consequences of his freakish actions over the course of a week in his Manhattan apartment. As for myself, I would more likely describe it as, the heinous and pathetic behavior of the most selfish, self-serving, self-centered person anyone could ever imagine.
There is absolutely nothing likable about the main character played by Mr. Crawford himself. Childish, envious and resentful of anyone else’s joy or sanity for that matter, there are no bounds to how he wrecks the lives of others. As a sociopath, he absolutely lives up to the dictionary definition which reads: a person with a personality disorder manifesting itself in extreme antisocial attitudes and behavior and a lack of conscience.
But there are other factors that wreak havoc in this play. Unintelligible dialog from other cast members, actors that were largely off the mark inside a story that often made no sense to the audience, a set that looked like a typical, classroom rag pile, and the irritating, melodramatic music that continuously attempted to lead the audience to one emotion or another – unsuccessfully. In fact, although I often naggingly thought it was a comedy, I was pretty sure that I was supposed to take this all seriously. And that was difficult to do.
The one absolute save for this entire production was the thankfully, lovely performance by Ruthie Stephens who plays the sister to the head case, reeling the production in and giving it a center as was true to her actual character, until of course, her own brother screws her in the worst way.
Definitely a theater production more on the experimental side. Self-described as “relentless” basically captures the essence of this show.