Delirium

by Martin Dockery, Brooklyn, NY

Review by Charles Finley

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Exhausting. I can think of no other word to describe Martin Dockery’s relentless story-telling presentation at the 4th annual Ithaca Fringe Festival. And by “exhausting” I mean both physically and emotionally.

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Dockery is a natural storyteller, using words as if they were the last ones he’ll ever get to say, gushing them out in a stream of consciousness helter-skelter rush to illustrate both large moments and minute details.

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Delirium consists of three parts. The first is when he loses his wife in Toronto airport. Fearing she may have been stopped at customs and maybe turned away, Dockery imagines elaborate plots to cross the border under cover of darkness and like a spy movie hero, bring her safely back across. His plots are ridiculous but his fear is tangible and as you watch him twist and writhe as his tale spins, you can’t help but imagine what you would think should you be in that position.

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Dockery almost never stands still; his arms flail, his legs twist, his hands punch the air, his face contorts as he drives home image after image, thought after thought. I lost my breath a few times in sympathy with the force of his when-will-he-take-a-breath delivery. When you listen to him discover the tree absolutely covered—every branch—by monarch butterflies you can’t help but be overwhelmed by the enormous vision of something you’re only hearing about.

 

His gift for detailed description is unparalleled. It’s one thing to listen to someone tell a story, but it’s another to somehow believe you can experience it the way the storyteller has, and Martin Dockery spares no ounce of energy in his 60-minute monologue to bring you the whole range of associations—emotional, physical, sensual—that are present in his stories.

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His bio lists a credit from the Orlando Sentinel: “The best storyteller in the U.S.” Quite a statement, but if Martin Dockery isn’t, he’s damn close.