"Feast" by Andrew Ondrejcak at Incubator Arts Project Having been associated across various arts disciplines with Marina Abramovic, Erin Courtney, Sufjan Stevens, Mac Wellman, Robert Wilson and Shara Worden, Andrew Ondrejcak's credentials flag him for attention. But there's little in "Feast," Mr. Ondrejcak's shapeless riff on the fall of Babylon at the Incubator Arts Project, to suggest serious ambition as a playwright, even in the most experimental sense. America in the 21st century would seem to offer a sturdy frame for the metaphorical canvas being stretched here, in which the gold-encrusted privileged class indulges its excessive appetites while an empire crumbles. But despite strenuous juxtaposition of lip-synced passages from Handel's baroque oratorio "Belshazzar" with contemporary urban speak, twisty wordplay and meticulously chiseled discussions of food, fat, sex, beauty, death and civilization's follies, "Feast" never coheres into anything thematically lucid. Or interesting. While it imposes a static presentation that doesn't help animate the slabs of text, there is an arresting austerity in the design by Leong Leong Architecture, with the morose King and his four chattering concubines seated for the duration behind a high, burnished bench. The actors handle their wordy chores with aplomb, the courtiers costumed by Adam Selman to look like brass rubbings brought to life against the surrounding blackness. But the piece, which Mr. Ondrejcak also directed, cries out for video enhancement; it plays like "La Grande Bouffe" without any actual food or wine consumed. Perhaps more suited to being staged as a walk-through performance installation than a play, "Feast" yields little in its 55 minutes that's not apparent in any five of those minutes picked at random. "What a day today, what a buffet today," repeats one concubine at regular intervals. But this is a meager menu. It's like being trapped at a dinner party with a bunch of self-infatuated hipster bores all competing to outdo one another in smug pseudocleverness. Audience members at the performance I attended appeared to enjoy playing with the whoopee cushions supplied on each seat. Their purpose was unclear, except perhaps to serve as an alternative to applause.