JUNK SONG – UPSCALE PRODUCTIONS, LLC – JULY 20 2013

Every once in awhile a show comes along that gives me so much anxiety to write its review that I almost don’t – simply out of goodwill or a false sense of compassion. But, one of the reasons I started to write reviews in the first place was to be the guy willing to say difficult things that could hopefully positively contribute to the community as a whole. I will do my best to find the words that follow, but understand that I take no delight in what’s about to happen. 

“Junk Song” is the premiere work of Meg Lambert, who found herself in a difficult time in her life in which she felt compelled to write. She received tremendous support from family and friends – most of which are involved in the production in some way, and I think all were present at the sold out opening performance at which I felt like a stranger with my companion in a big family reunion gala that we crashed.

The problem with art-as-therapy, however, is that if it doesn’t transcend the author’s experience, it can be painful to watch. And, this was exactly that.

The story centers entirely on a single location – the garage of Lucy (Angela Walberg) and Noah (Gabriele Angieri) the day before and the day of a sale. The first act is a “Preview Party” in which all of their closest neighbors and friends, including Tom (Bruce Abas), the third corner of a convoluted love triangle, and a host of other neighbors get to check out the loot before the sale is opened to the public. The second act is the day of the sale itself.

“I want less, less of everything.”

As a play, stripping all of the songs away and being left with just dialogue, you find yourself left with a laundry list of cliché zingers; inconsistent, shallow characters; and a plot so thin and uncompelling that it has no purpose for existing. Slap superfluous songs that dabble in pastiche and traditional musical cabaret, which neither further the plot nor elucidate the characters in any meaningful way, you have a show that’s simply hard to watch. This show is in such a state of infancy, that it needs years of reworking, workshops, and retooling, yet it is currently being presented as a completed work at $20-$35 a seat at the nimbus.

“Please stop. It’s embarrassing.”

This is a show that yearns to be pedantic. It has no audience in mind and thus no thrust for being. We as an audience are vigorously tossed from drama to meager attempts at comedy in a script that doesn’t have an identity. At times the songs are intended to be evocative, and then they are followed by a fart joke. This was a show for no one, without structure or convention. The humor is juvenile and at times downright repulsive. I have never heard so many sexual innuendos about an old woman’s vagina or a man’s desire for wood outside of an 8^th grade lunch room. The bad puns abound and the banal, base jokes never stop coming. Oh, did I say coming? Tee hee hee.

What Ms. Lambert must do is figure out what the story is – strip everything away and figure out who the protagonist is and what narrative she wants to tell. Without that focus and discipline the result is a confounding clusterfuck of unoriginal caricatures, simplistic writing, and lackluster songs. What is currently on the nimbus stage is a first act of unnecessary musical monologues with a few semi-catchy ensemble pieces, and a second act that abandons all previously planted plot potentials and devolves into an incomprehensible reconciliation that no one was cheering for.  Get back to the basics. Never start a play with a location; start with the initial drive and original visceral response you had to a story and build from there.

 “Just because it’s a cliché doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Huge accolades to a cast who endured such a work and must have the collective patience of all of the Apostles to bring this writer’s vision, with her brother as composer (Tom Cowgill), and niece as director (Becka Linder) to the stage. Angela Walberg, who plays Lucy, outshines the ensemble tenfold as a sturdy, competent singer. While her operatic vibrato doesn’t gel with my personal preference for musical theatre, her talent is undeniable. She did fall out of key more than a few times, but I suspect that to be a technical or spatial issue more than one of ability. The rest of the ensemble, in particular Bruce Abas as Tom, muddle through the tuneless songs as best as they can, clearly not as trained nor experienced as Ms. Walberg. All of the actors on stage gave their sincerest efforts to the production, and the exuberance award goes to Annette Kurek, Lucy’s mother, May, who plays a repulsive human being with much gusto! I hope they are having a blast at least. 

I honestly don’t know how to conclude this review. I sort of wish I didn’t write it. Another part of me wishes that I hadn’t seen the show. The delete button or unpublish button are easy escapes to save face, to not be the asshole reviewer and just let people do what makes them happy and let them be.  But, I started this blog with the sole purpose to have enough respect for those who have the guts to throw something into the public arena and give them my own subjective, HONEST reaction to the show I experienced. This was such an opinion, and it is with a deep sadness that I will now release this into the world, hoping that something good can come from it.

[1 out of 5 – .5 for a cast who leaves it all on the stage and the other .5 for the unrealized potential of Angela Walberg]

Location:
Nimbus Theatre; 1517 Central Ave. NE, Minneapolis, MN
Dates and Times:
July 19-21 and 24-27, 2013 at 7:30 p.m.
Tickets:
General Admission $20-$35
For More Information and To Order Tickets:
http://www.upscaletheatre.com
Or Brown Paper Tickets: 1-800-838-3006
http://www.brownpapertickets.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PSST! – OFF-LEASH AREA – JUNE 22ND 2013

So, clearly I’m a bit late on this post, as the show closed two weeks ago. But, since I kept bringing it up in conversation, and I keep thinking about it, I found it an obligation to do a write-up of the show. Here goes… 

Going into Psst! I had little knowledge of Off-Leash Area, but I did do a little research about the show and its previous presentation in 2005. A show with masks. That’s cool.  However, I was entirely unprepared for what I was about to experience.

 

No words. Not only on stage but also from my mouth after having witnessed whatever it was I had just experienced. Describing the beauty and simplicity of this show is difficult, but I will try to the best of my ability with my feeble grasp of the English language. At its core, Psst! is a love story—a most beautiful and authentic narrative about the most basic human emotions of love and loss. Boy meets girl (creators Paul Herwig and Jennifer Ilse respectively); there’s a villain, in this case Death (Jim Lieberthal). But aesthetically and artistically, it transcends any cliché that could possibly be thrown at it.

To start, every actor is masked. Psst! is based on the graphic novels of JASON, whose universal, black/white style is similarly voiceless. I don’t know what crazy mind initially thought that this show was possible, marketable, or even worth the effort, but I am so glad they did. Psst! is a masterpiece of performance, art, and design—a dazzling display of drama and acting when words are not enough to convey the human condition.

Obviously a show with no spoken words relies heavily on sound design and score, and Marc Doty creates a sonic tableau that weaves together with the images on stage so seamlessly that one doesn’t think of the sound as a separate element from the visuals, but together as a unified whole. His gritty, industrial score, reminiscent of those of Clint Mansell (Requiem for a Dream, The Fountain) with hints of Nine Inch Nails and Radiohead, juxtaposed with 20s era samples, cleverly saturate the stage in a way I’ve never seen a composer accompany a live performance. That type of spot-on execution generally only comes in the movies, as sound design is often an afterthought for a stage show. It was clear that from its inception music was just as important to this play’s success as action.

And what acting! One does not realize how important the face is in the art of acting until one removes the ability to utilize facial expression and vocal inflection. Every member of the ensemble successfully creates distinct characters and emotions solely through body language, with a dancer’s fluidity and a mime’s penchant for exaggeration. There was no weak link.

Psst! dances a fine line between abstraction and intelligibility, but the result is pure art. Dance, music, and narrative combine to create a mesmerizing example of what can happen when one throws out the rulebook and says, “fuck it, I’m going to make something amazing and you can either get out of my way or come along for the ride.”

Every piece of set, prop, and costume were meticulous in their simplicity. There was no wasted time nor space, sound nor action.  PVC tubing, Styrofoam, a little wood, and paper were all Off-Leash Area needed to frame this remarkable display of artistry.  And, it all served the overall aesthetic that Paul Hedwig and Jennifer Ilse created. Every inch of stage was their singular, cohesive vision.

There is no doubt, that wherever I am, I will get to the next Off-Leash Area production.

[5 out of 5 – this was a flawlessly executed production of a flawless concept]

Find more information about their garage tour: http://www.offleasharea.org/

 

 

CAMINO REAL – GIRL FRIDAY PRODUCTIONS – JULY 5 2013

A full disclosure must be made upfront before I can go on to write this review that you, in theory, are about to read: I have never read—nor seen—a Tennessee Williams play. I know it’s blasphemous, as Streetcar, Glass Menagerie, and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof are all a part of the modern theatre canon.  But, there you have it. I was warned beforehand that this was both atypical of Williams and at the same time definitively Williams. So, I tread lightly as I delve into the world of Camino Real.

The first thing one notices at the Minneapolis Theater Garage is the expansive set.  Benjamin McGovern (both Director and Scenic Designer) stretched a diagonal, sloping stage from one end of the space to the other, creating what I would say is the most creative and resourceful use of the Garage that I’ve ever seen, while effectively conveying the off-kilter universe that Williams’ constructs. I was disappointed with the painting and overall design work presented, providing a rather dull and amateurish tableau for the vibrant characters and costumes (Kathy Kohl), but its sheer practicality was fun to see explored from the far corners, underneath, and even behind the set.

“Caged birds accept each other but flight is what they long for.”

Williams’ Camino Real is world of its own. The play starts off with Don Quixote (Craig Johnson) drifting off to sleep. This world, theoretically, is Quixote’s dream. The Inception-esque opening—the dream of one who lives his life as if it were a dream—provides the especially existential landscape for all of the absurdity to follow.

The Camino is sixteen blocks and the show its downward journey. We quickly meet Casanova (John Middleton) followed block by block by a plethora of various other historical figures and street people. Kilroy (Eric Knutson) becomes our protagonist, if there were one, as the everyman.  He adventures down the street, meeting character after character who befriend, scam, or try to ensnare him [as Esmeralda (Sara Richardson) does] while he just longs for escape from the place where “nothing seems real.”

“It would be inexcusably selfish to be lonely alone.”

In a land where “hermano” (brother) is forbidden and free speech of escape results in your swift exit by way of the street cleaners, it’s not hard to see the allegories, allusions, and parallels. Of course it’s the Odyssey; is it Dante’s Inferno? Yes. Is Kilroy a Christ-figure? God, I hope not, but he probably is. Any academic, meta-bullshit you want to throw out there, yes, this is probably that, too. But, Girl Friday Productions presents for its audience a challenging play that does exactly what its mission states: it illuminates the human condition.

“Make voyages! Attempt them! There’s nothing else.”

This extremely difficult and large-scale piece of theatre is one that falls into a very special category: it’s best upon rumination. My initial, visceral reaction, in my over-stimulated senses was confusion and disgust. But, as the quotable quotes settled into my psyche, it began to make more and more sense. Much of what happens on stage seems to be irrelevant. While all the players did a magnificent job and the artists and the designers, the show was very much a dialogue between the audience and the playwright.

Tennessee Williams in Camino Real (or potentially through Girl Friday and Ben McGovern, as well) almost uses the stage action as a distraction, to dull your senses, so that the flashes of brilliance can worm their way inside your head.  There were times in the show when action existed in the far corners, stage center, while running up the aisle. But, could this have all been a part of the point? My initial disgust has waned, and I will be reading this play very soon. And, then again. And, I will be thinking about it. It will more likely than not become a part of me. And, I will be talking about it. If that’s not what theatre is about, then I’m not really sure what purpose it serves.

Some quick mentions here. David Beukema was delightfully charming as always playing multiple roles. Sam Landman tries to squeeze the laughter out of a dark play and succeeds as A. Ratt, a modern day Thenardier; Sancho who uncharacteristically bails for greener pastures in La Mancha; and Nursie, who makes me want to see A Drinking Game take on Mrs. Doubtfire at the BLB in the very near future.

[4 of 5 stars – this would’ve been a 3 last night, but let the show wash over you, bathe in it, and the brilliance is obvious.]

P.S. Thank Girl Friday Productions for having your media kit available on your site!

Girl Friday Productions Presents Camino Real by Tennessee Williams will be showing through July 27th. See more at http://www.girlfridayproductions.org

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE DOLLAR – BOX WINE THEATRE- MAY 19th, 2013

I recently caught a show at the Bryant Lake Bowl (everyone’s favorite awkward theatre space) written by Sam Graber called “What Happened to the Dollar” If you know anything about Box Wine Theatre, you know their penchant for the political borderlines on the cultish, if, of course, there were such a possibility as a disestablishmentarian cult. The difference in this production was that the piece selected, while of or relating to politics, was part cautionary tale and part reflective human journey, and less satirical admonition that the company is well-known for.

The play, which was work-shopped off-Broadway recently, was directed by co-artistic director of BWT, Bethany Simmons while she and the other core members, Cody Stewart, Kyler Chase, and fellow co-artistic director Adam Sharp filled in the rest of the necessary crew for the show. In a nutshell it follows two female gamers Shift (Suzie Cheng) and Kit (Ali Daniels) whose world is turned upside down by Van (Kyler Chase), who persuades them into building a virtual currency that eventually trades internationally, crippling the dollar, and causing global, mass hysteria. Scenes of the three at computers with headsets are cut with men’s room talk from the head of the Federal Reserve (Kelvin Hatle) and the President of the United States (John Hoy) along with the occasional press conference.

One thing I will always say about Box Wine is that they are a thrifty bunch – making due with very little and trying to keep pushing the possibilities of a tiny theatre in a big theatre town. With that being said, the overall aesthetic – set design mostly—was pretty laughable. A podium, painted to appear as if it were wooden and rotating background pieces served more as distractions than accents. But, set and sound design are all secondary to the mission of BWT, which is foremost, “sparking new ideas and encouraging the questioning of mainstream social norms and opinions.” (www.boxwinetheatre.com) I’ve been to enough BWT shows that I actually believe this is more of an artistic decision at this point. I could be wrong; wouldn’t be the first time. However, I’ve come to expect it, and honestly, it isn’t without its charm.

<

Now, down to the nitty-gritty. I cannot say that I did not enjoy the show—that would be inaccurate. However, the feeling I had leaving the space was not joy or excitement, but relief.  There were things that worked and others that did not, just like any other show. But, this was something different. An unease that I haven’t, yet, experienced walking out of a theatre. Here is my best shot at explaining what that was:

Firstly, as far as production value goes, it was a very mediocre show. Beyond the set design, the acting was uneven, which included several line stumbles (moreso at the beginning, which I’ve found to be a very common Sunday event) and the directing led to some awkward blocking choices in which I could sometimes not even see certain characters from my vantage point. BLB is a notoriously difficult space to perform and produce in, but I think some tweaks here and there would benefit the show as a whole.

Suzie Cheng definitely stood out among the younger actors, as she spewed venom left and right at Kyler Chase’s character, Van. Chase and Daniels seemed to struggle connecting with their characters and the subject matter—both having some painful moments of overacting. I’ve noticed that a lot of younger actors have trouble figuring out what to do with their hands while on stage. The defense mechanism for that nervousness and anxiety about what to do with them is using to talk unrealistically. During the show, Daniels’ hands were flailing wildly while Chase’s awkwardness came more in the quizzical eyebrow category. I’ve always had an “over-active hand motion” category for actor flaws, but I suppose I now need to add an “over-active brow” one, too. Regardless, I have seen both of these artists hit home runs, so I don’t think it’s lack of talent (see: Sans Merci, Ali Daniels)

Secondly: the source material itself. Graber is a sharp and witty writer with the dexterity to both humanize a concept through characters while still presenting an engaging person on stage. His ability to create different voices is keen, and he is also able to pen a searing, blistering insult better than any modern playwright of whom I’m aware.

Here is the issue, though: I think the rapid fire wit and esoteric subject matter of the politics of currency in the global marketplace was too much for the “normal” theatre audience—not excluding this patron. There is no questioning Mr. Graber’s intellect, but he succeeded in going over this theatre-goers head both in nerd game lingo and the logistics of toppling the world’s leading currency with 1s and 0s into a despotic post-apocalyptic nightmare. I believe that this is a rare instance in which a piece is too smart for the stage, as an audience who could appreciate it in its entirety is probably non-existent.

I liken it to trying to put on a production of Plato—while the material is rich, ultimately a stage show of Socrates talking to some dude in the town center, while intellectually stimulating and able to instigate conversation, is probably better left on the page. I think the relational dynamics between Kit/Shift and Van/Kit, the huge national and global political ramifications of a failed US dollar, and the logistics of a virtual currency, in Graber’s world, would live better in a novel. In print each reader could take his or her time digesting, reading and re-reading passages, and ultimately absorbing some of the just brutally clever truisms that are strewn throughout the script.

2.5 out of 5 stars – An interesting topic but too heady for the stage. Admiration for even attempting to tackle such a dense script and sympathy for the actors who tried, but sometimes failed, to connect to characters with complex motives, fast-paced dialogue, and a significantly heightened use of the English language.

[Aside: I think this is as good a time as any to remind my readers why I got into this review writing biz to begin with. It is my personal belief that a review of a show that simply outlines the plot of a show is worthless to everyone and a waste of my time and yours. I similarly don’t think that anyone benefits from ego stroking. As I grow in my theatre knowledge and connections, I find that I am reviewing more and more shows that have friends involved. My mission is to provide honesty and what I hope is helpful critiques of the shows that I attend as a subjective viewer. Not every show is for me, and I try to acknowledge that. I hope all of my readers and my friends know that I mean no ill will towards any person or company when I write. Please message me if you feel that I have personally slandered you in a review. I enter every theatre space hoping for the best. We all have room to grow. I just want every actor, director, stage manager, set designer, and all the rest that I greatly appreciate and respect that you have the guts to do what you do and unabashedly put your art in the public arena to be critiqued in the first place.]

[Aside #2: Who brings a golf club into a men’s restroom?]

GROSS INDECENCY: THE THREE TRIALS OF OSCAR WILDE – WALKING SHADOW THEATRE COMPANY – APRIL 12TH, 2013

Sometimes you go to a show because you know someone in the cast or crew. Other times you may go because the concept or subject intrigues you. And, still other times you attend a show because you’ve had good experiences with the company before, and, while the subject matter might be outside your usual taste or may even be unknown to you, you go in hopes that previous successes will repeat themselves. The latter was my experience this time around with this production about Oscar Wilde by Walking Shadow.

As a non-theatre major, Oscar Wilde has been nothing but a name to me. I’ve never read any of his plays nor seem them produced. He doesn’t come up in daily conversations, and when people allude to his work, I can only chuckle and politely pretend I know the context. Outside of theatre and lit majors, he’s not part of the liberal arts education canon. Fortunately, this play required no prerequisite knowledge of the subject for understanding.

But, while stellar performances, wonderful design, and creative staging abound, this production was ultimately entirely unengaging, and I found myself greatly disappointed. It felt as if each element (acting, lighting, staging, etc.) were all parallel entities that never intersected to create a cohesive and interesting narrative. Oh, and drama? Missing entirely. There was no action—no plot. The show consisted mostly of dramatized texts loosely threaded into the re-enactment of the trials surrounding Oscar Wilde and his alleged homosexuality (or “posing sodomy”).

Most intrusive was the author’s obnoxious citations of each and every line, adding greatly to the feeling that I was in a high school classroom and not a theatre at all. Sometimes it was executed well, but it always drew me out of the performances, requiring me to attempt to re-enter the world each and every time an actor proclaimed “from a letter written at the Savoy hotel,” for example. The experience was more akin to watching the History Channel or Biography, in which short dramatic vignettes pepper what is mostly a narrator voiceover with still images scrolling across the screen.

The only genuine interest—and, my guess, the impetus for Walking Shadow to produce the play—is the brilliant quotable quotes of Wilde and his extraordinary view of the world, morality, and sexuality. His existentialist philosophy about the inseparable natures of art and life is beautiful and admirable. However, simply curling up with one of his works on the couch and drinking a steaming mug of chamomile tea may have been more effective.

The all-male cast (Victorian tongue-in-cheek?) performed with great dexterity, as most of the ensemble was required to take on different roles, with differing accents and even genders. Craig Johnson as Oscar Wilde was simply entrancing as he took the subject and, like a true artist, moved only within the mannerisms and tones of his character – with great nuance to Wilde’s androgyny. But, with all the talent on stage, the players never interacted with one another in a real sense. The conflict and passion of the story seemed vacuumed out by the biographical presentation of the events. It was as two-dimensional as a book.

Director (Amy Rummenie) had her work cut out for her to even attempt to make this an interesting piece. And, she almost succeeded. There were glimmers of brilliance in staging and lighting, but, ultimately, because I was never drawn into the world, this was a show I could take or leave.

3.5 out of 5 stars. A wonderfully talented cast perform a plot-deprived script with only a few technical issues in the opening night performance. A few lines stumbles from each of the cast along with issues finding their light, particularly center stage and on the platform, in which both locations have awkward shadows cast by stage or venue obstacles.

Walking Shadow Theatre Company’s “Gross Indecency: The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde” is playing through May 4th at the Minneapolis Theatre Garage (711 W. Franklin Ave, Minneapolis)

SANS MERCI – GADFLY THEATRE PRODUCTIONS – MARCH 17, 2013

Silence. After the actors broke and the house lights came up after Gadfly Theatre’s production of “Sans Merci” by Johnna Adams, there was a palpable tension in the air until one brave soul of the thirteen in attendance broke the pall, and we were all given license to applaud as well. I have only experienced such an audience reaction in, I believe, one other theatre production and following the movie “The Passion of the Christ,” and actress Ali Daniels ended up just as bloodied as Mel.

“Sans Merci,” which derives its name from a Keats poem that is quoted throughout the show, is a three-woman drama that revolves around a rather excruciatingly awkward interaction between Elizabeth (Sandy Thomas) and Kelly (BethAnne Nelson) as they discuss the latter’s lover and the former’s deceased daughter, Tracy (Ali Daniels), and the circumstances surrounding her death. The pacing at first felt a little rushed and bumbling from Nelson and Thomas, but I think that was Sunday matinee syndrome because the two soon found their rhythm and eventually let the space between the lines of dialogue speak just as clearly as the words themselves. I find that silence is the scariest thing for both an actor and an audience member. It’s terrifying. It’s vulnerable. It’s… well… real.

Love is the intersection of two poetries…

I had the opportunity to read the script prior to seeing “Sans Merci,” which is out of sequence per my typical routine. In so doing I had a little more insight from the opening scene than usual. The setting was Kelly’s modest apartment, in which Elizabeth arrives unannounced. What made their conversation so stirring was how real and idealistic they both were. Neither were caricatures of an idea but rather fleshy individuals with unique voices. The liberal college student and the conservative Republican. In the same room. Discussing their only connection:  a young woman, whose fate becomes clearer and clearer as the drama climaxes.  

Both characters come off a little abrasive and even a little nuts in their PTSD, adding to their complex realism. Daniels, as Tracy, particularly shines in her final scene, and the casting is spot on. A special mention must also be given to Daniels and Nelson, whose sexual chemistry on stage felt unforced and real—a truly believable couple.

At the Riverside People’s Center, an already intense and provocative play is made even more intimate and raw with the actors just feet from you. The simple set, I’m sure constructed on the cheap more from necessity than intention, was almost unnecessary, except that the playwright included dozens of items in her dialogue that seemed to be some sort of vengeful, sadistic plot to enrage prop masters for the rest of time. The show would have been just as evocative without a set at all because what sells this play, what turns the screw, are the performances. Thomas, Nelson, and Daniels all three let the poetic prose and the literal verse flow from their mouths like honey. The audience is drawn in and entranced by both the horrible circumstance of this meeting and unfiltered way in which these two strangers talk to each other. We also get to see a romance blossom and fall in love with a love we wish wouldn’t die… but know will.

Technically and directionally, the space is well used, as flashbacks are created with spatial lighting. Other emotional extensions of the play are employed throughout with artistic license deepening the feeling of loss. Without intricate lighting systems, expensive costuming and set design, billboards throughout the metro, and the backing of mult-billion dollar corporations, Gadfly has succeeded in getting at the core of theatre: telling a story, and doing a damn good job of it.

If new, “bold,” provocative theatre is what you are looking for, then don’t miss this show. There are four more chances to see it! Gadfly Theatre proves that you don’t need a $20,000 set budget to pull an audience into a world of heartache, passion, and finding oneself. Maybe you’ll find something in yourself you didn’t know existed. This will be a play you will remember and carry in your consciousness for a long time. Do not miss this opportunity.

Rating: 4 stars out of 5 – I want to be fair in my rating and give no deference to either high production value nor low. However, if all things equal, this show had stellar acting, great source material, but a weak aesthetic overall and some curious blocking. Additionally, in the Sunday matinee that I attended, there were several line fumbles and corrections. A very solid show that rivals anything I’ve seen at the Guthrie so far this season.

[Aside: If a playwright is concerned that an actor might not have the chops to carry a part without stumbling over their lines, make that character a nervous, mentally unstable wreck. In this way all sins are covered.]

“Sans Merci” is playing at the Riverside People’s Center

March 18, 2013 at 7:30 PM*
March 22, 2013 at 7:30 PM
March 23, 2013 at 7:30 PM
March 24, 2013 at 3:00 PM

*Pay-What-You-Can Performance
http://www.gadflytheatre.org

VENUS IN FUR – THE JUNGLE THEATER – March 9th, 2013

***Please note there are spoilers in this particular review. Reader be warned.***

As I drove home on this misty Saturday evening, after a rainy day that made Minnesota more like the land of one-million lakes, I pondered the play that I just saw… in silence. I thought about the playwright’s intentions and those of the director. I thought about the acting gymnastics that Anna Sundberg and Peter Christian Hansen just exhibited in front of me for ninety minutes. I thought about all of these things—well, that and how awesome Anna’s legs are (I’m only human after all).

Don’t we go to plays for passions we don’t get in life?

Always guessing. That’s the conclusion that I came to about “Venus in Fur” watching my windshield wipers scatter the droplets from my windshield; it always kept me guessing. Within the first few minutes of seeing Vanda Jordan (Sundberg) on stage, I was tired of Ms. Sundberg’s overwrought, obnoxious precociousness. I felt her rendition of the character was just too much corniness to handle. I was starting to check out, but, just as I’m rolling my eyes at another clichéd mannerism of a fresh farm girl actress with a “charming” lack of experience, we learn that she herself was putting on that act. My head sort of hurt in an Inception kind of way when I think about the complexity of being an actress (i.e. Anna Sundberg) playing an actress who is acting like a stereotypical actress to get a part. All of this foolery heightened the reveal that she wasn’t quite who she said she was later on. So, she gets a pass. However the comedy was still not my cup of tea, although most of the audience found it downright hilarious.
I felt Hansen’s changes were not as fluid as Sundberg’s, but some of that felt inherent in the play as well. Thomas is very hard on her in parts, verbally abusive, and that felt out of his character. But, I never really knew who his character really was anyway (more on that later). So, because I was always guessing about his motives – in which it’s clear that he has a knee-jerk defensiveness where he acts like a total douche—I, too, give him a pass.
“Venus in Fur” itself is created within a complex duality. It’s a play-in-a-play in which the play within gradually becomes the reality of the meta-play—a simply thrilling dynamic. It further blurs the reality of the moment with the action of the play within and juxtaposes that with Novacek’s (Hansen) impetus for having written it. It also poses the question: doesn’t every playwright write himself into the characters he writes? And, then there’s a crazy ending that comes out of nowhere and leaves you scratching your head. Lightning crash. The End.

Working in the theater is the world’s greatest way to get laid.

There is no question that Hansen and Sundberg did a phenomenal job with what I can say is probably two of the most demanding roles I’ve ever seen on stage. The dexterity in which they were required to switch between actors and actors-playing-actors (or playwright-playing-actor) is nothing short of remarkable. I think, though, that all of this jumping around—the always guessing—left me a little empty. I couldn’t really figure out who these characters really were, and so in the end, I didn’t really care about what happened to them. They did keep my attention like pros, though, for the whole duration, and in a show in which there are no scene changes, black outs, or intermissions, that is a feat in itself.

I think the play “Venus in Fur” is a very interesting piece, and I look forward to reading it a few times to pick up on the subtleties I’m sure to have missed while the leather-clad guy and his wife behind me kept making fart noises with their coats or hats or whatever (no, for real, they were both in leather from head-to-toe). It was just that as a performance piece, I felt it lacked a grounding in which the audience could really discover who these people were—their motivations, passions, and true feelings. As a refreshing piece of new theatre with poignancy, relevance, and intrigue for study and building off of, I rate it very high. I always applaud novelty, and I am very thankful that The Jungle continues to push the envelope in their seasons and brings in plays fresh from Broadway.
Rating: 3 ½ stars– I felt this was a good performance of an okay play. The scenery was a bit tacky and disappointing for a Jungle show and the continual sound design from beginning to end and the dramatic lightning flashes were a bit too much cheese for this audience member.
[Aside: Parking in Uptown is atrocious. That is all.]

[Bonus Aside: I would be remiss if I were not to speak to the smoking controversy stirred up and highlighted by a recent piece done by MPR. I, myself, was sitting in the second row, directly in front of Anna as she lit her cigarette, and I watched the smoke start to swirl and eventually start to fill the stage. It wasn’t long before the smoke was noticeable and the scent hung in the air for at least twenty minutes like incense. Would this scene have been different with a fake cigarette? Yes. Would it have been different with no cigarette? Yes. The question remains, though: what are you willing to sacrifice as an artist to exert your freedom? I have severe asthma and cigarette smoke bothers me immensely (just one of the reason that I tend to sit, when possible, in the “back row”). I was, in fact, drawn out of the play because of the watering of my eyes, the difficulty breathing, and the headache that I am actually still working through right now. There were a few coughs here and there, but I think for the most part the smoking was a non-issue. Do I feel that the cigarette was even necessary to this particular play now that I’ve seen its context? Honestly, I don’t. But, people smoke. It’s life. Sometimes writing in the directions that someone smokes is supposed to clue the audience in that this person is super badass or is about to tell us something evocative. There are lots of ways to do this. Is it laziness or lack of creativity? I can’t really answer that, but with a bill about to find its way to state legislatures, theatre companies might have to deal with e-cigs, soon. But, I digress, as I’ve already given far too much real estate to this topic than this review should have. Let me know what YOU think in the comments below!]

THE BOOK OF MORMON – ORPHEUM – FEBRUARY 17TH, 2013

I am a big fan of anything that gets an audience into seats—particularly the younger generation. And I will support those pieces of theatre with all my might. Unfortunately, some shows are just not intended for me, and despite the droves of ecstatic fans of this show, I didn’t get it. I really wanted to. I’ve been an admirer of Matt Stone and Trey Parker for some time now, but just as Cannibal! The Musical didn’t do it for me (their first attempt at a musical), this too came off as trying too hard to be funny, which is not funny.

I know I am in the minority here, and if you love the show and don’t want to hear me pick it apart or think that I am just going to spout out some unintelligent drivel because the show was so “meta” that I didn’t get it, please stop reading and just go on to the next glowing review of The Book of Mormon (there are thousands to choose from). But, this is what I felt: huge disappointment.

What does a book written centuries ago thousands of miles away have anything to do with us?

Firstly while Stone and Parker take a potentially taboo topic like Mormonism and turn it into musical satire is laudable, the novelty only takes one so far. The structure of the play was the same typical two act musical that we’ve seen since the dawn of the American theatre. In that way it’s old-fashioned. I think this is intentional, however, as a commentary on classic musical theatre. I supposed you’d have to ask Stone/ Parker. It’s hard to present a commentary on a genre unless you are doing it full hilt, no doubts or hesitations. If that is the intent, then this production at least fell flat. The music, similarly, is very old school with just a tinge of modernity a la Wicked (in fact, a lot of the score recalls Wicked). The novelty is in the subject matter alone, as foul language and lewd humor isn’t new. We’ve seen shows like that since the 60s. The songs and score are also just not particularly good. In their attempt to be funny, the singable, memorable hook has been forgotten, leaving only one song, “I Believe” as its anthem. The rest of the score falls to the wayside of filler.

I found myself offended, not at any of the jokes at the expense of organized religion (the intended offended), but at the inherent racial stereotypes and borderline homophobia that lurked around every turn. And, while I had a smile on my face and some really good laughs in the first act, by the second act I was tired. The humor had run its course. Singing the word “fuck” in a non-rhyming couplet can’t be your only method of eliciting the audience to laugh. But, laugh they did. Every. Time. Similarly, the repetition of some jokes just came off as cheap and lazy. “Maggots in my scrotum” was maybe funny once, hardly funny twice, obnoxious the third time, and, yeah, just for good measure, let’s throw it in at the end, too. This style of beating a dead horse comedy doesn’t interest me in Family Guy, and it certainly doesn’t tickle me in my theatre seat.

I also found the way that they treated the mutilation of young girls in some African tribes to be so glib as to have just been better left out. Because of the slapstick, cavalier manner in which the characters speak or sing about the topic, it felt wrong. And, not in that things-you-only-say-with-your-friends kind of wrong, but just in the bad taste kind of way. I’m not easily offended, but I just wish that whole element had been eliminated.

There was, indeed, an important moral to the show: community, acceptance, and the need for a malleability of religion to fit the culture of its believers. However, it felt more like an afterthought to what the creators really wanted to do: bash religion in a new medium and offend in the name of art.

As for the rest of the show, the actors were fine but not remarkable. The lighting was often poor (that which was supplied by the Orpheum itself), since the old space has few decent angles because of the chandelier. And, the direction/ chorography was either “brilliant” as one theatre-goer put it or atrocious. Again, I think the director of the show (and the creators) were making a commentary on musical theatre in general, so it’s hard to take anything that was done on stage at face value. Let’s just say, if I can’t definitively discern if something is satire, I determine that it’s probably just poorly executed. But, with the massive commercial engine behind this show both on Broadway and in the tour, I can’t imagine that anything is accidental.

So, to sum it up, this show was clearly not for me – however much I love musicals and bashing religion. But, it’s obviously popular, and, as I started out this piece, anything that reinvigorates an audience to see theatre is encouraged by me. So, go see it (I just won’t be joining you, and, of course, today was the last day of its run)!

Rating: 2.5 of 5. The production was relatively well-executed for a traveling show. Strong book in first act that meanders in the second act.

[Aside: I believe this musical will have no lasting impact on the American theatre canon, and only one song will remain when the dust settles “I Believe,” which will probably also be re-appropriated by some Christian sect with some altered words to be used in worship. I think this will just be another fad musical with one song that will occasionally be heard in audition rooms and everyone will ask each other “What musical was that from again?” (see: “Memory,” “What I Did for Love,” etc.)]

OTHER DESERT CITIES (PREVIEW)– GUTHRIE THEATER –FEBRUARY 12th 2013

Do you often go to shows in which you have absolutely no knowledge of the origin or premise of the show? I would expect that most people don’t have the luxury to do such things—especially at the Guthrie—and this reviewer would be in the same boat if he didn’t have generous friends. I have had several of those experiences in recent past with mixed results.

“Other Desert Cities” is all I knew – a name on a Guthrie season schedule in which I knew not a single person involved except for the work of director Peter Rothstein (of Aida). Does it sound appealing? No. It doesn’t have a catchy, uber-long and descriptive Fringe-like title. “Other Desert Cities.” Sounded like a warm getaway, at least, from the mountains of snow I kept shoveling out of my driveway. So, I entered the McGuire Proscenium with a blank slate and an open mind. Well, open leaning towards skepticism as I am wont to have.

So, I take my seat in the 700-person audience and read my program. It turns out that playwright is Jon Robin Baitz is relatively famous. Well, he has written for TV, film, and has a couple Pulitzer nominations (including for “Other Desert Cities”) and Drama Desk noms. Pretty impressive stuff. A terse flipping through the program revealed that we would be seeing some Guthrie veterans and new faces. Sally Wingert (as Polly) and David Anthony Brinkley (Lyman) as the Wyeth parents, Michelle Barber as the eccentric aunt (Silda) to the adult Wyeth children, Guthrie newcomers Christian Conn (Trip) and Kelly McAndrew (Brooke – the protagonist).

“Is this going how you expected?”

I was very confused by this play at first. I couldn’t figure out what I was in for. I couldn’t decide if it was going to be some cotton candy, quick-witted comedy with little substance, which was what it felt like at the start. Parts of the first act flew by with a sitcom-like cadence and predictable –though flawless – setups that elicited guffaws from the audience whether the punch lines were deserving or not.

So, I’m watching, and getting a couple chuckles in, and then the dreaded political bomb gets dropped; oh, great, another anti-war show about Iraq. I turn off. But, wait – is that nuance I hear? Tuned back in. Oh great, another depressive, struggling artist protagonist. Woe is me. Here’s the world’s tiniest fiddle. Off. But, hold on, the caricature presented isn’t trying to evoke sympathy. In fact, quite the opposite: the moping, suicidal writer is written with so little depth and unapologetically as a foil. Her brother even suggests that her depressive spells don’t make her special, but in this heavily medicated, need for diagnosis society, she is banal. Now, I’m in. It became clear that this play wasn’t going to fit into any box that I could try to manufacture. This isn’t anything I’ve experienced on a stage before.

I was still digesting the words and emotions of the five-person cast during intermission. I still had confusion about what was happening. There was a tension being built for an unknown, and I could feel it pulling at me. The quick wit with popular references intertwined was starting to become more sporadic as the characters, who all became exceedingly real and sympathetic, began to show their multi-faceted lives. There was a mystery, to us to everyone on stage, and the second act is the unfolding of that mystery—years of lying, betrayal, and secrets.

The original name of the play was “Love and Mercy.” This play showed a lot of that heart but in a very real way. The conversations felt natural, not like contrived dialogue. I felt that each character had his or her own voice. This is a testament to the caliber of the writing and the presentation by the actor-artists and director. There were a few moments that stick out in my head as moments where anger or agony, for example, in the father and daughter respectively came off weak and (in one case) a bit laughable, but overall the acting was solid. Wingert and Barber are flawless in the execution of their richly complex roles, and Conn plays the California hotshot, the caring son, and the fed up brother with great passion and believability. The weakest performance was David Anthony Brinkley who just didn’t seem to have the full grasp of his character, yet. Lyman often flips attitudes on a dime, as many of the characters do, and it is my hope that this will be honed and perfected by show opening (I did attend a preview after all).
The production value was unbelievable. The set: stunning. And, a final scene that is a breath of fresh air – a gorgeous display of needless spectacle that still served the story beautifully in the way only the Guthrie can.

So, if you’re looking for a show with both laughs and gravitas, beauty and wit, go see “Other Desert Cities” at the Guthrie, which plays at the McGuire Proscenium Stage through March 24th, 2013.

Rating: 4 stars. Great cast. Great writing. Great direction and production. Just a few kinks to work out.

[Aside: I found some interesting correlations between this and Long Day’s Journey into Night, which both occur in approximately the same span of time in a single location and day.]

EMMA WOODHOUSE IS NOT A BITCH – SAVAGE UMBRELLA – FEBRUARY 2ND, 2013

Going into any production I give each and every show the following benefit of doubt: the optimism that I will like (or try to like) what I am about to see, whether or not the show is something that I would normally care for, and rating-wise, a guaranteed 3 of 5 stars for finding the courage, resources, and heart to make a play in the first place. Every deviation from an average rating requires much deliberation and thought in both directions. I need very specific reasons to rate higher or lower. For me a 3 indicates that I was entertained but not astounded. I was not bored, but I was not riveted.

In case you don’t know, Savage Umbrella is an up-and-coming theatre group in the Twin Cities community, having such successes as “The Ravagers” and “Care Enough” in recent past. The group is a very talented and original troupe who tries to tell evocative stories and find ways to engage their audience beyond the stage alone. For example, for “Emma Woodhouse…” there is a campaign to vote whether she is or is not a bitch. Also, the company posted a bulletin board outside of the Riverside People’s Center theatre where audience members can write on paper hearts themes that they took away from the production. They are also very active social media mavens.
“Sometimes people don’t want help. Sometimes people want to figure shit out on their own.”
“Emma Woodhouse is Not a Bitch” is a modern day reimagining of the Jane Austen novel, Emma. I have never actually read any Austen, and to be honest, I became quite bored and couldn’t even get through the Wikipedia entry for Emma. From all accounts, the show appears to be a fairly inventive modern take. This is perhaps why I had trouble in my seat engaging or caring about most of the characters on stage. In SU’s attempt to bring the pompous elite class into the 21st century, the vapid natures of these silver spoon children are simply uninteresting and unidentifiable. The cast presents the script, which has a competent wittiness about it, with skill, but it all falls flat. I was never invested in the goings on or in any of the plot arcs of the characters. Nothing compelled me.

On a technical note, the director, Blake E. Bolan, tried to use as much of the People’s Center as possible, but unfortunately, when utilizing the balcony wing as actual dramatic space, you risk alienating the 1/3 of the audience that can’t see the gallery at any given moment. From my position in my favorite back (audience) left position, I could merely listen to some of the dialogue – including some crucial scenes.
If there were an award for the most beautiful cast, this show would definitely be in the running. Woodhouse sisters Emma (Kathryn Fumie) and Isabella (Taous Claire Khazem) are stunning beauties. In fact the entire dramatis personae are good looking and are easily believed as coming from a world of privilege. I quickly lost track, but the multitude of evening wear dresses and jewels were similarly exquisite. A detail like this could have been easily overlooked but would have given the production a tacky, cheap feel. The stage design from Zac Campbell, in its simplicity, was able to evoke a grandeur that didn’t detract from the need to feel like we were rubbing elbows with the upper class.

One of my biggest gripes about the show is the employment of the slow motion action cliché. To direct our eyes and attention as audience members, any background activity happened in half-time, while the action that we are being forced to attend, happens in real time with the dialogue. I actually find this semi-insulting. Am I so dumb or attention-deficit that I must be forced to pay attention to these two actors downstage alone? Actually, the slow-motion acting in the background often served the opposite effect, as I was more interested in backdrop than in the foreground. So, maybe I am so ADD…
But, perhaps this is what Savage Umbrella sought—to pull me out of the realism and be reminded that I am in a theatre. There were similarly obnoxious moments of theatricality, such as the actors-turned-stage-hands who glided on and off stage between scenes as if on a ballroom floor. I would have to ask the artistic team that question. Actors who played servers also came into the audience during intermission to serve sweets and apple cider. It might be the case that this was all part of SU’s grand scheme of audience engagement.

Overall, I was entertained, but not astounded. The script was good but not great. And the acting was overall good but had some holes. My profound respect for what Savage Umbrella represents in this community with regards to experimentation and original work, and my deepest desire to see more of what this group can do as they grow and find their own unique voice.

Rating: 3 of 5 (a striking performance by heroine Kathryn Fumie could have bumped this up to 3.5, but the 8 line stutters throughout the cast on the night that I attended brought us back down to 3)

[Aside: The People’s Center is my second least favorite venue in the Twin Cities, only behind Lowry Lab. However, with the ramp gates up, the free, covered parking was quite delightful.]

—-

Savage Umbrella wants to party with you and your valentine, kicking off 2013 with Emma Woodhouse Is Not A Bitch, an adaptation of Jane Austen’s Romantic novel Emma, presented at the Cedar Riverside People’s Center Theatre, February 1st-23rd.