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TO OCT. 7

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I tend to fall asleep when I venture out to the theater— it’s an unfortunate habit, I know. But, the room gets dark, the lights heat up just enough to make your eyelids flag (but not enough to elicit perspiration), and, what can I say, the droning human voice often makes me heed Morpheus’ call. That said, things didn’t bode well for me over the course of Fraudulent Productions’ rendition of My Foot My Tutor, an avant-dumb play by Peter Handke— an Austrian playwright I was assured by press materials to be the second coming of Samuel Beckett. Handke’s plays are sure to test the patience of those used to, say, anything resembling traditional theater: If he wanted to subvert its template, he sure as hell succeeded. My Foot My Tutor’s two protagonists remain mute throughout the performance, while their actions are described by an officious narrator, who loses his grip on calling the shots as the play nears its “climax.” The story is so crushingly banal, that it occasionally veers into comic (mostly thanks to Dan Awkward’s effusive turn as Warden) or emetic (a painfully drawn-out toenail-cutting scene). Props are due to FraudProd for having the cojones to mount this play, though whether or not the merit of My Foot My Tutor is found in the intention of its producers or in the actual substance of the work remains muddled. It runs Friday, Saturday, and Thursday at 7:30 p.m. To Saturday, Oct. 7, at the District of Columbia Arts Center, 2438 18th St. NW. $10-$15. (202) 462-7833. (John Davis)