Congratulations!

Hi all, this is not a review, but a mutual congratulation: I just got word that the readers of Mountain Xpress voted us third best blog in town. And we've only been operating for about 10 months! Yay! So, thanks, and congratulations to all of you for reading, contributing, and helping to make this site a valuable resource for the local performing arts scene.
Here is the link to the full article:

(also-- it's been pointed that my hyperlinks don't actually work. Sorry about that - I think I've got it fixed, now. If the one above works, we're good. If not, I'll keep working on it...)
thanks
Bernhard Grier

Laugh your Asheville

I just found this one on the XPress site (http://www.mountainx.com/ae/2007/review_laugh_your_asheville_off/)
--BG

Review: Laugh Your Asheville Off
by Alli Marshall on 10/15/2007

Though there’s some sort of show to check out every night of the week in Asheville (dance, theater, music, visual art, etc.) the one performing field that’s under-represented is comedy. Luckily, for stand-up fans, local comedian-turned-show producer Greg Brown is changing that.

Brown and his partner Rowan Lischerelli introduced the first-ever Laugh Your Asheville Off Comedy Festival back in July. The three-show run, held at Diana Wortham Theatre, brought an extensive roster of local and regional comics to downtown Asheville. But Brown and Lischerelli didn’t sit back and bask in the success of that first production. They immediately set about organizing other comedy events including last weekend’s one-night follow-up.

The Friday, Oct. 12, show at Diana Wortham featured Charlotte’s “Comedian of the Year” Joe Zimmerman as the host of the show along with other up-and-comers like Carlos Valencia, Felicia Gillespie and Justin Chambliss.

If you caught the July show, you recognized Zimmerman, Valencia and Chambliss. All three pretty much repeated their earlier performance to varying affect. Zimmerman’s riff on the Asheville scene hits pretty close to home (his bit about protesting Staples: “If we get office supplies, what’s next? Offices?"). Valencia’s schtick about STDs and having a terminal disease named after him was more awkward than funny. Comedians tend to ride that line between humorous and creepy, but Valencia edges closer to creepy for me. Then again, his MySpace quote is “Bringing unsettling creepiness back” — mission accomplished!

My favorite acts of the evening were headliner Dave Landau, whose laid-back delivery and banter with the audience made for a fun and fast-paced routine, and Asheville-based comedian Tom Chalmers, who started his set with an impression of a bluegrass band.

Chalmers came to WNC from New York City where he served as artistic director for Gotham City Improv. In Asheville, he teaches comedy writing workshops through Asheville Community Theatre. He also performs the annual one-man play, The Santaland Diaries.

On the whole, this second Laugh Your Asheville Off show was a fun evening with plenty of laugh out loud moments and a pleasantly surprising number of good regional artists. Hopefully what was originally intended as an annual festival will quickly become a quarterly event.

—Alli Marshall, A&E reporter

Ruthless

Again, C-T. Find the original at http://www.take5online.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=200771011065
Sorry about the occasional half-sentence in this review-- I presume the paper printed better than the website, but I dropped my subscription some time ago, so this is the best I can do!
--BG

Theater review: ‘Ruthless!’ offers a study in bad taste
by Jim Cavener, take5 correspondent
published October 12, 2007 12:15 am

ASHEVILLE — “Ruthless!,” now running at Asheville Community Theatre’s 35below space, is high camp comedy. Nothing is sacred. This is an acquired taste but also tricky business, a mix of the good timing of farce, overstatement of melodrama, cleverness with lots of double-entendre and less-than-subtle interjections of bad taste.

Also required is a cast that can wring all the trashy nuances out of tasteless parody.

The players in “Ruthless!” are far better than the material they are working with. This script by Joel Paley is not bad, it’s just interminably silly and misses good chances to slip in more ironic pretense and gross excess.

There are ample allusions and asides, quick suggestions of gay icons and over-the-top interpretations of otherwise ordinary situations, but it misses some chances to be vulgar and naughty, while giving a great framework for successful send-up.

The plot twists and turns and writhes through wonderful territory. Director Eric Mills, who did “Miss Gulch Returns” two years ago at 35below, milks the material for more than it demands and gets bravado performances from the assembled crew. It is difficult to know who steals most of the scenes.

An emerging star

Any 12-year old in such a show has a leg up on accolades. Emily Eliot-Gaines plays young Tina, a demonic child who is determined to get the lead in the school play. This young woman holds her own among a mature cast of attention-getters as the kid everyone loves to hate.

Her stage mother from hell, Judy — later Ginger — is done ruthlessly by Beverly Todd, who comes equipped with a piercing voice that can be heard six blocks away.

Her selfless innocence, as well as her ruthless ambition in the second act, are way over-the-top.

Lori Beland Hilliard as Miss Thorn and Miss Bloch comes in close to the top as giving outrageous characterizations that work well.

Tamm’s outrageous side

Clearly dominating every scene he’s in is veteran local actor Peter Tamm as Sylvia St. Croix. Tamm is known as a serious actor, making this appearance all the more outrageous.

The costumes steal more scenes than these able actors. Linda Neal Underwood deserves kudos for the range of rags with which she adorns this cast.

Musical Director Ruth Sieber Johnson gives the sometimes-lame score the boost it needs and keeps the tempo up and racing toward the silly denouement.

Caberet

"CABARET" AT HART IN WAYNESVILLE....
by Jim Cavener, Citizen-Times Correspondent

[editor's note-- this was forwarded to me as the full text of this review, a slightly shorter version of which was published in the Citizen-Times. -B.G. ]

Is it simple serendipity that Haywood Arts Regional Theatre opens it's spectacularly novel production of "Cabaret" the same week as Ken Burns' "The War" runs on PBS, as Asheville's immediate theatre project finished its run of "Copenhagen," while UNCA's Center for Diverstiy Education and Pack Library are opening thier month-long exhibition and programs on Anne Frank? Whether planned to coincide or not, this is a heady diet of powerful recollections of the Nazi horror in Europe some 70 years ago.
All this convergence on a horrendous historical event in mid-20th century is a learning experience and a powerful reminder of the worst of human atrocities. Director Charles Mills and company executive Steve Lloyd came up with a plan to make this an extraordinary production of a legendary classic of American Musical Theater. And effective it is.
Their approach was to construct a large platform out over the audience seating area, where the action takes place. The audience is seated at bistro tables on the traditional stage. Literally turning around Waynesville's Performing Arts Center, they have created more intimacy between the audience and actors, bringing the horror of Nazism close to all viewers. The cast serves as greeters and servers in the Kit-Kat Club before and between the acts. We become the 'good Germans' who are drawn into the seductive appeal of decadence, debauchery and deviousness that was Berlin in the 1930s.
Christopher Isherwood's first-hand stories of that time and place were altered for the stage by John van Druten ("I am a Camera") before musical masters Kandler and Ebb ("Chicago," "Kiss of the Spider Woman") got ahold of the material in the 1960s. With thier knack of catching sinister themes for musical presentation, "Cabaret" became the classic Broadway and film hit, making a star of Joel Grey and bringing this story to new audiences.
Mark Jones gives us an androgenous and seductive Emcee, with the help of gender-bending costumes by Cary Nichols and make-up by Beth Swanson. His slinky and sinister cabaret master of ceremonies suggests the way the German nation was programmed by the leaders of National Socialism. Jones carries the show with panache
The other major role whose talents match the music is Julie Kinter as Sally Bowles, the impish young ingenue from Britain who finds herself out of her depth in the turmoil of Berlin in the 1930s. Kinter can carry a tune and emote with the best of 'em. Her romantic interest is the boyish and winsome David Ostergaard as the young American, Clifford Bradshaw, who has come to Berlin to write -- reflecting Isherwood's own pilgrimage.
Touching performances were given by Casey Dupree and Stan Smith as Fraulein Schneider and Herr Schultz. They, too, carry the poignancy of this troubled time. Paul Heathman as Ernst Ludwig and Jennifer Sanner as Faurlein Kost advance the cause, and Sanner sings with elan. Among the Kit kat girls are Mary Katherine Smith, Christina McClellan and Kristen Pallota, who use those bentwood ice-cream shop chairs in the fine, erotic legacy of Bob Fosse. Beth Holmes' choreography captures the feel of the original.
The cabaret boys -- doubling as waiters and dancers -- do good dialect work and move with high male energy. Adam Kampouris, Joshua Merrell, Ian Olson and James Bradley add to the ambiance of this sad era in our recent history. Chuck Taft, Anne Rhymer, Linda Davis and David Bruce did their darndest to get the feel of the fine score by John Kandler. A few more real instruments and fewer electronic substitutes may have aided the support sounds behind the voices.

ACT's Beauty

C-T, of course. The original is at http://www.citizen-times.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=200770920075
sorry this is so late.
BG

Theater review: ‘Beauty and the Beast’ appeals to all
ACT actors, costumes bring classic to life
by Tim Reid, take 5 Correspondent
published September 21, 2007 12:15 am


Asheville Community Theatre thrills young and old with “Disney’s Beauty and the Beast,” the classic tale of a young maiden who transforms a fearsome beast.

Based on Disney’s award-winning animated film, the stage version has made this one of the best-loved stories of modern times. “Beauty” is an ambitious undertaking for any community theater with its lavish music, costumes and scenery, but ACT has risen to the challenge, summoning a level of talent that would have been unthinkable in earlier days.

Rachelle Roberts is enchanting as beautiful Belle, whom neighbors in the quaint French village regard as odd because she likes to read. Tony Lance gives an awesome performance as the handsome prince who is turned into the loathsome Beast when he refuses to give a beggar woman shelter for the night.

Belle has caught the eye of the town’s most eligible bachelor Gaston (Rod Leigh), who is so full of himself that he scarcely notices or cares that she can’t stand him. Gaston’s admiration for himself is exceeded only by his fawning friend LeFou (Trevor Worden).

When the Beast imprisons Belle’s eccentric inventor father Maurice (Bruce Henderson), she agrees to become his prisoner if he will free her father.

The former prince’s servants have fallen under the same curse that made him a Beast and are gradually being transformed into household objects instead of people. Cogsworth (Payton Turpin) is an uptight clock complete with winding stem, and Lumiere (Richard Blue) is morphing into elaborate candelabra. Ruth Butler and Lincoln Belford are delightful as Mrs. Potts and her son, Chip, who are finishing their transformation to a teapot and cup.

Time is running out for the Beast and his household servants — he must fall in love and find someone to love him, or the curse will become permanent.

Director Christopher Lynn, music director Ginger Haselden, scenic designer Jack Lindsay and costume designer Kate Russell, plus a wonderful cast, have created an unforgettable evening of theater.

Copenhagen

I saw immediate theater project's production of
Copenhagen at the BeBe Theater last Saturday night.
We expected (after itp's absolutely brilliant All
My Sons) it to be good, and were right. Copenhagen
was almost as shattering as All My Sons, but in a
different way. It is extremely talky -- just three
people talking and talking, on stage all the time --
but very moving.

All three actors were excellent. Kay Galvin is always
wonderful; we hadn't seen the other two before. They
seemed just right -- Lance Ball as the nervy Heisenberg
and Earl Leininger as the "good man", the fatherly Bohr.

Really there wasn't much to fault in the whole production
-- a couple of tiny and unimportant stumbles over lines
is all I can come up with if I think really hard.

The play is suitable, even edifying, for adults and
high school students. It's about... Life and
theoretical physics? History? Subjectivity? Lots of
interesting things on lots of levels. Overtly it's
about a meeting between Bohr and Heisenberg in Copenhagen
during the Nazi occupation of Denmark. (There's also a
lot of interesting history -- like the amazing escape
of most of Denmark's Jews, and the fact that several of
the guys who came up with the Bomb were Jews who had fled
to America.)

Michael Frayn (the playwright) is quite a guy -- to have
had the understanding of the very counter-intuitive concepts
of theoretical physics that he must have had to have written
the play -- and somehow applied them to life -- is impressive.
(And then he becomes a Brueghel expert for his excellent
novel Headlong!)

So don't miss it -- Copenhagen ends this weekend, on the 30th.
itp's doing some other interesting things over the next year --
check out their website.

--Tahani Sticpewich

Twelve Treatises on Memory

The latest edition to North Carolina Stage Company’s Catalyst Series is a piece written and directed by local poet, playwright and performer John Crutchfield, “Twelve Treatises on Memory: An Epistemological Slapstick (With Sock Puppets), presented by Jynormous Theatre Company.
Unlike many play-goers in this community, I am not someone convinced that anything written by a local playwright is good theatre (I can type you up a short list, if you‘d like to argue this). You can tell in the first five minutes of the play that Crutchfield is no hack, tinkering about with playwriting in his spare time. The scenes are nicely laid out, the characters are interesting, and the lines are nothing short of eloquent.
In fact, that is what impressed me most about the play. Some of the writing in this show is the prettiest I’ve heard since I saw “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” at NCStage earlier this summer. The succinct timing and pace of the funny parts leave the audience in stitches. The drama is also valid and easy to sympathize with.
The acting is also spot-on. The portrayal of two childhood sweethearts, reunited for one night of reminiscing and questioning past decisions, by Joe Sturgeon and Anne-Marie Welty is truly compelling. Both actors express a clear knowledge of their character’s intention and personality.
My problem with the show, however, is a big one… the subject matter.
You know that angry poem, or scene, or narrative that you wrote back in high school or college about a time when someone unjustifiably jilted you, which you never got full closure from. We all have one. They are always a little melodramatic because the pain we feel is so raw and authentic (usually because it is being felt for the first time). Still, in perspective, being dumped is not that big of a deal and not necessarily a worthy premise for a dramatic play.
I don’t mean to downplay it. Lots of great plays are based around the ins and outs of love. This play entirely rests on the connection between a slightly geeky guy named Mark (Sturgeon) who is somewhat stuck in the past and his former flame Beth (Welty), who is kind of cocky and enjoying that she still has the power to make Mark swoon. The two spend a night together, talking in circles around how dynamic the love they shared was and why it ultimately ended.
Creating a good “Why did you break up with me?” play is already a challenge. Having a man be both writer and director of a breakup play in which the man is more or less the good-natured victim and the woman is semi-manipulative, arrogant, cold and constantly in-control doesn’t help the play’s credibility either.
To cool down the laden bitterness that is apparent throughout “Twelve Treatises,” Crutchfield introduces two sock puppet scenes, where the two actors get behind the couch they had been sitting on in the previous scene, swap gender roles, and basically re-do the dialogue from the point of view of two Punch & Judy type characters portrayed by socks on their hands. Except in these scenes, the characters say what they really mean, instead of all the game-playing they do in human form.
While an interesting and entertaining way to cut the show’s heaviness, the puppet scenes end up clashing with the dramatic moments. It makes it much harder to take the characters’ pain seriously when they come forward to recite a dramatic monologue in a spotlight, when we have barely caught our breath from laughing at their whininess when they were puppets.
While an unarguably beautiful and witty play, “Twelve Treatises” is uneven in its tone. It is, however, a lot of fun and completely worth watching. I would give it 4 out of six stars.
--Meg Hale

etc's Athena

sorry this has taken so long to post. Please check out the original threads on Mountain Xpress website, too... B.G.

http://www.mountainx.com/ae/2007/080807athena
http://www.mountainx.com/ae/2007/players_inject_life_into_dying_dog

Players inject life into dying dog
by Cecil Bothwell on 08/16/2007

In last week’s preview of enigmatic theatre company’s world premier of Athena, I wrote that it “demands special effects that can’t reasonably be expected to work in the NCSC black box space.” Either I jinxed them, or some wag on the crew decided to pull a plug for my benefit.

The second performance of the play, Aug. 15, was crippled by a backstage power failure which eliminated video projections necessary, again quoting my preview, to “suggest the climactic house-wrecking wind storm” in the penultimate scene. It’s always something. Video or no, the storm scene was more effectively portrayed than I anticipated. Alas, the play itself was no better. There wasn’t a lot of there there, and not much to care about.

However, stellar performances by David Hopes, as Donald, a lightning victim of quiet beauty, and Tiffany Cade, as Kate, a slightly neurotic post-partum mother, graced the evening. Others on the cast turned in commendable performances and brought a bit of life to the stage.

Michael MacCauley’s direction was inspired, weaving the multiple scenes of an extended one-act play into a continuous tapestry, and Brian Sneeden’s lighting and sound were excellent. Knowing Peter Brezny’s work, I could only imagine that the multimedia piece of the puzzle would have been equally fine — but there was that pesky blackout.

The direction, production and acting in this show left me hoping for more from this young stage company. Next time with juice.

— Cecil Bothwell, staff writer

Terpsicorps' Many Deaths of Edward Gorey

Let me begin by admitting that I know next to nothing about dance. I never took classes, I don't see much of it, and I have only recently begun to read reviews of it. Oh well. Heather Malloy's The Many Deaths of Edward Gorey, presented by Terpsicorps Theatre of Dance a couple of weeks ago needs to be written about, and trained or not, I am rather keen to be the one to start.

Because it was fabulous. That much was clear even to me.

The evening actually included three other pieces, in addition to the Edward Gorey, and I think I'll work backwards.

The last piece was inspired in concept, if not as much in execution. Local artist Ben Betsalel created an original painting each night during, and presumably inspired by or in some sort of relation to, the performance on stage. The painting in progress was projected digitally, thanks to G. Craig Hobbs, as a much larger than life backdrop for the dancers. I thought this was a terrific idea, but over all the dance was my least favorite. The piece, called Work in Progress, was choreographed by Ms. Malloy, and I’m sure it was very well done, it just didn’t happen to be to my particular taste. The original score, by Michael Bellar was probably very good, I just did not happen to like the sort of latin-jazzy style of music. The painting itself was a splattered canvas reminiscent of, say Jackson Pollock, and I just don’t happen to know that much about that particular style, and am not super interested in it. The look of the show was very light and colorful, but it did not grab my attention as much as some of the other pieces. And while the intersection between painter and dancers seemed very interesting in theory, I could not quite catch the relation in actuality. I found myself craning my neck to watch the artist at work on the balcony, as often as I was watching the stage. And I had a hard time sitting back and trusting that there was some “story” relating the painting and the dancing, because I just didn’t see it.

But that points to my inexperience with dance as much as anything, perhaps. What seemed clear to me at some point, was that watching ballet is, for me, a lot like conversing in a foreign language. If I try and translate everything word by word, I will not only be constantly behind, but I will lose the overall sense in favor of a few isolated moments of clarity. If however I don’t worry so much about the details, I will understand more than I expect, and will feel much more a part of the conversation. The ballet was the same: If I tried to make logical sense of every move, I was frustrated and confused, and felt like I was missing something. But when I just sat back and let the dance wash over me, it was satisfying on a much more visceral level.

This was very much true of the middle pieces, The Waiting Room and Senza Fretta (Without Worry), both choreographed by the late Salvatore Aiello and staged here by Timothy Rineheart-Yeager, Terpsicorps’ Ballet Master (and, for Waiting Room, by Ms. Malloy as well). In both pieces, I was impressed by the dancers’ skill, grace, humor, and passion, and for both pieces, I had to stop trying to create a narrative in my head. Part of the problem, especially for The Waiting Room, was that I had not looked to see what the title of the piece was, and just that would have helped me feel at ease, knowing that I was at least on the same page as the dancers. After the performance, we got to hear a little about Mr. Aiello, and how he composed the ballet after receiving some very bad medical news. I could not help but wonder if the piece would have worked even better if we had known that up front. None of this kept me from enjoying the dance, however. Written for three women, Jennifer Cavanaugh, Emily Gotschall, and Sadie Harris, and staged and lit with beautiful simplicity, the piece was wonderfully uncluttered, and moved forward with the quiet drive and peculiarly intense boredom that can only come while waiting endlessly for something of life-shattering importance.

In Senza Fretta, a cocky young man (Christopher Stuart) struts across the stage, only to be ousted by another brash young fellow (Nathan McGinnis) and there begins a very fun romp through playful competition and bold masculinity. The dance is so energetic and fast paced that it was hard even for me to care too much what the “story” was; it was easy to get caught up in the dancers themselves. The story was incidental to the event, and both dancers were both impressive and fun to watch.

The jewel in the evening’s crown was of course, The Many Deaths of Edward Gorey, which had as much beauty and intrigue as The Waiting Room, as much fun and energy as Senza Fretta, and at least as much spectacle as Work In Progress.

Dear me. I seem to have neglected a piece. I suppose I should go back and edit this document, rather than interrupt it, but I kind of think the interruption is appropriate. I have to admit, I completely forgot about That Caterpillar’s Trippin’ Again, an excerpt from Terpsicorps’ adaptation of Alice in Wonderland a few years back. It’s not that it was not memorable; it certainly was. But it was maybe a little spectacle heavy for my tastes. Very psychedelic, very flashy. The great fuzzy orange costumes were very showy and cool, but distracted me. I guess whatever I’ve been saying about not over-thinking a dance, I wish this had had more of a resemblance to Lewis Carroll’s story. The G. Craig Hobbs projections were kind of cool, but as usual I thought they mostly distracted from the performers, rather than enhancing the experience of watching them. But what if this had been an opportunity to…I don’t know, let Alice and the Caterpillar recite “You Are Old, Father Williams” in some clever, funky, ballet way? But maybe it worked better as part of the full ballet, and maybe I was just spoiled by the clever, funky, ballet adaptation of the work of Edward Gorey that I had just seen.

Ok, back on track.

To really present the look, much less the spirit, of Edward Gorey on stage seems daunting to the point of hopeless. Fortunately, no one asked me, and the Terpsicorps team delivers a piece that is just about perfect in every conceivable way (except its length, but more on that later). The look of the show is incredible. Conceptualized by Ms. Malloy and Evan Bivins (a versatile performer who plays with Jump Little Children, among others, and provided musical direction for Gorey), every detail was taken into account, but not slavishly adhered to: the show breathes equal parts homage and originality, and is inspired at every turn. The whole thing is done in a stark black and white palate, which fits Mr. Gorey’s dark, crosshatched drawings and delightfully macabre spirit very well indeed. Even the dancers’ faces are exceptionally pale, with darkened eye sockets and the occasional accent of a handlebar moustache.

The costumes (Malloy again, on design, and brought to life by Leslie Lambrecht) are key to this wonderfully expressive black and white scheme, and they could not be more appropriate or delightful. They look old fashioned, even stodgy, but actually help the dancers create a very particular world in which such seeming limitations instead elevate them to astoundingly complex heights. Height actually features heavily in the look of the show, from the almost dangerous-looking stabs of lights by designer Erik McDaniel to the high platform erected at the far upstage end of things, which serves as home for the delightfully odd, dark, and whimsical band, and also allows Edward Gorey himself (Holiday Childress in the requisite full length fur coat and sneakers) to watch/create the action from above when not actively participating in it.

The first image of the evening is also one of the most enduring and exciting: a faithful recreation the figure of Death on the cover of Gorey’s 1963 mini-masterwork The Gashlycrumb Tinies. This top hat-ed, black clad figure with skull face and ominous black umbrella appears from the copious (but not overdone) fog in a delightfully eerie musical stillness, and then the mask and umbrella swoop up into the vast black depths of the air, never to be seen again. Brilliant.

From there, the ballet uses characters from Gorey’s books as well as just a general Gorey influence to introduce a bizarre and wonderful collection of characters including a waifish, jerky and of course doomed ballerina (Sadie Harris), a pair of androgynous and macabre Odd Cousins (Emily Goschall and Christopher Stuart), the mysteriously gloomy Veiled Lady (David Tlaiye), and two children (Jennifer Cavanaugh and Nathan McGinnis) who have a spectacular pas de deux (if I’m using my ballet terms correctly) with an epileptic bicycle. Each of these has spectacular moments of their own, as well as collectively, and that does not even take into account the peculiar ballet instructor (Allison Heryzberg) and her wards (Sarah Margaret Qualley and Emily Williams). Frankly, I cannot even remember all that I liked about the dancers and the piece itself, but it left a powerful and lasting desire for more. It was engaging, highly creative, very theatrical, very fun, and even the most faithful Gorey interpretations were still full of their own originality, life, and surprise.

It was revealed after the performance that there is a possibility of expanding and re-mounting the Gorey piece and the audience cheered the idea wholeheartedly. In the meantime, Malloy is resurrecting her neo-puritan, post-apocalyptic, Appalachian-punk version of The Scarlet Letter in August, and I am already lamenting the sad fact that my work will keep me away from that show.

Heather Malloy and Terpsicorps Theatre of Dance are not only raising but re-imagining the bar for the local performing arts scene. Even if I don’t agree with every choice they make, it is clear that their creativity, intensity, passion, and exceedingly high artistic standards are helping to move the discussion of the performing arts in Asheville to a new level of professionalism. They are not alone in this, but they are among the leaders of the pack, and I’m pleased to say that it is becoming increasingly difficult for some of us to keep up. And there is not much that is more exciting than that.

--Willie Repoley

The Epic of Gilgamesh

thanks to the C-T, again...
-BG

THEATER REVIEW: 1-man ‘Gilgamesh’ is sparse yet lush
by Jim Cavener, CITIZEN-TIMES CORRESPONDENT
published June 28, 2007 12:15 am


ASHEVILLE — David Novak is simply an exceptional storyteller, and his production of the renowned “Gilgamesh,” at North Carolina Stage Company is well worth seeing. The material is legendary, with elements from early mythology. But, it’s the presentation that distinguishes this tale-well told.

The world’s oldest known novel or ancient piece of quality literature, “Gilgamesh” was regarded as among the greatest literary creations for at least a couple of millennia, then was lost for another two or more millennia before being rediscovered in the 18th century.

Now, Novak is giving the classic a narrative telling in his usual exceptional way. This pared-down “Gilgamesh” is a single-voice piece.

The show features one actor-narrator, 29 bamboo poles in assorted assembly and a few clay shards in three piles across the front of the stage — no costumes or clutter, but discerning use of well-chosen music and light cues. Those light and music cues are especially remarkable given that actor Novak’s work is not scripted, and the technical staff must simply listen carefully and sense when the changes are ripe.

Gilgamesh is a harsh monarch over the city of Uruk, in Babylonia, present-day Iraq. His exploits send him to meet a wild super-masculine figure, Enkidu, who joins the monarch in heroic endeavors leading to a strong emotional relationship between them. Enkidu’s tragic death changes the course of the narrative, sending Gilgamesh into deep despair and ongoing grief.

There are graphic erotic descriptions of sensuality, poetic but pointed and extraordinarily eloquent.

The second half of the story reflects on human immortality. Gilgamesh still mourns for Enkidu. Poetic construct, and awesome meter and cadence, coupled with this moving tale of lost love make for powerful theater.

Great theater needs something to see as well as to hear. Though simple, the choreography of Novak’s body propelled across the stage, coupled with the light and music cues as well as the use of bamboo and reed mats, is varied enough to rivet the attention both of sight and sound.

Jim Cavener writes about theater for the Citizen-Times. E-mail him at JimCavener@aya.Yale.edu.

Bindlestiff Family Cirkus

Saw a strange little show at Club Hairspray last week: The Bindlestiff Family Cirkus. These guys are on a tour, and have some sort of sponsorship relationship with Magic Hat brewery, but, thankfully, the Magic Hat people don’t seem too interested in censoring the show or even in keeping the quality up, which is actually refreshing. It was billed as part vaudeville, part burlesque, and honestly I don’t know enough about either term to know how closely that matched what they did, but at any rate it was pretty neat stuff.

The show started out with “Mr. Pennygaff” as a silent “hobo” clown, complete with funny nose, big shoes, and balloon animals. And his routine was very good, actually; a charming mix of innocence and innuendo. I kept thinking, “so this is why people go to clown college…cool.” From there, “Philomena,” (a fire-eater in a yellow tutu) took the stage as the MC, walking us through a variety of magic tricks, clown routines, sword swallowing, tightrope walking, and various gimmicks ranging from inspired to inane, all underscored by nifty live organ music by the talented Mr. Frederik Iversen.

For me, the straight up sideshow stuff was sort of cool, but not that enthralling. I mean, the sword swallowing (for example) was good, but not that theatrical, the only story or drama being “gee, this guy could really hurt himself.” It just didn’t hold my attention, generally speaking. The lame jokes and audience participation gimmicks (drink this beer without using your hands, etc.) worked in the context of the show, but the best stuff was all wordless. Neither of the co-MCs (Pennygaff dropped the clown duds in favor of a direct-audience-address huckster suit for Act II) quite had the flair to really tie the show together, and the sort of medicine-show aspects were only serviceably clever, but some of the silent, one-man routines backed by organ were totally spectacular.

This is, of course how the show got started, and although he seemed a little nervous and awkward as an MC, Mr. Pennygaff’s clown routine was an exciting opener, and a pleasant reminder that “clown” does not necessarily equal “boring” or “kid-stuff.” Luckily, I did not have to wait too long for more, courtesy of Joel Baker, who had less stage time over all, but made the most of even his occasional forays onstage to help clean up after an act. He really had both the shtick and the look down pat, in his black ballet slippers, wide-legged gray trousers, white suspenders, and ruffled dark pink shirt. He even powdered on just the right amount of white make up—not so much that he looked like a “Circus Clown,” but enough to draw out the anarchistic and delightful peculiarities of centuries–old camp; he achieved a silent film black-and-white look, only in color. Very neat. His silent wide eyed character was exiting and enthusiastic, always a step or two behind the audience, but never aware of it. He is also something of an acrobat, seeming to specialize in balancing upside-down (and/or sideways!) on a variety of chairs and even a lampshade. His best sequence (and possibly my favorite of the evening) was a simple, classic gag of a person being outsmarted by an inanimate object. In this case, Mr. Baker (accompanied by organ, don’t forget! Makes everything better!) drags over a lamp, sits in a chair next to it, and proceeds to open a book, clearly intending to read. He looks at the audience—perhaps he is going to read aloud to us? As soon as he actually looks at the open pages, of course, the light goes out. Surprised, he looks at the light, which comes back on. He settles in again, looks at the book, and the light goes out, but when he looks back at the light, it… well, ok, so it’s not exactly a surprising routine. But it doesn’t have to be . Baker is such an engaging performer, that his simple, if seemingly supernatural, struggle is riveting and strangely moving.

The other highlight of the show is A.J Silver, the smoldering olive-skinned hunk of the show. He is just as underused as Baker, but he makes such a impression in his two routines that he pretty much steals the show. The first sequence involves him in black leather and rhinestone cowboy getup doing rope tricks. And he’s incredible. He starts a lasso swinging, and never slows down. He swings it around, makes it bigger and smaller, jumps back and fourth though it, jumps up and down through it, I can’t even begin to tell you what all he does, it all happens so quickly and flashily. And he never stops looking at the audience and grinning like, “yeah, it’s cool, right?” With some performers, that could be annoying, but with him, it’s just fun. He ends the number with a delightful and surprisingly PG lower body striptease that finishes up with (attn: No Shamers) a hat trick that beats mine by a mile. Or, well, by 6 to 8 inches, anyway...

His second act, near the end of the evening, is a rhythm trick: he has on high heeled boots and starts two small, dense balls twirling rapidly on the end of long strings, one in each hand. He manages to swing them in circles at his sides so fast and so deftly that they create a reliable and wonderfully versatile pattern of loud clacking when he lets them brush the floor. He fills in around the clacking with the tapping of his boots, so that he is doing this graceful and wild stomping dance that is making more noise than should be possible, even with tap shoes (which he does not have). It’s a wonderfully exciting and unbelievable feat of deceptive simplicity and grace. Yeah, it’s just a side show trick, but it’s a loud, fast, and exciting side show trick! And he even manages syncopation! Woo-hoo!

One thing, though, is that the women got a bit shafted. Sure Philomena got to do fire tricks, but like sword swallowing, it’s got limited appeal, at least for me. And she’s a good MC, but maybe doesn’t find quite the right line between modern and vintage. As for Ariele, the last of the performers, she mainly serves as the cheery assistant in a leotard (which looks modernly out of place) except for a trip out to the courtyard to see her perform on a tightrope. And she’s excellent, doing a variety of jumps and stunts, and even managing an incredible split on the rope before the routine ends, but as talented as she is, it’s just not as showy as lasso tricks and loud noises, nor as theatrical as trying to read by an uncooperative light. Plus, she had to make do with canned music.

But it left me wondering if maybe the cannon of vaudeville performers is so skewed towards the men, that the women have trouble fitting in and building their own routines that do not rely as heavily on male stereotypes. I mean, when I think of great silent clowns, I think of men: Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin, right? Were vaudeville women exclusively either in need of rescue or bearded? I have no idea, honestly. I’ve never seen them, but from what I’ve heard, The Rebelles have certainly found a feminine way to take the stage in a vaudeville-esqe sort of way. So I’m not sure why the Bindlestiff Family seemed so male-centric, but it did. At least to me. Well, I guess it was because the guys got all the best material! Whether by choice, or by accident, I don’t know, and would be interested to find out.

All in all, though, I was very glad someone talked me into giving this show a try. It had charm, some wit, great music, and most of all, reminded me how simple and pure great comedy can be.

But next time, how about a little more of the quiet fellow and the dude in the cowboy hat, eh…?

--Willie Repoley

Chesapeake

Hi-- here's another C-T review. You can find the original at http://www.citizen-times.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=200770510094
thanks.
--editor


Provocative play ‘Chesapeake’ wins with outrageous humor
by Tony Kiss, Tkiss@CITIZEN-TIMES.com
published May 11, 2007 12:15 am

ASHEVILE — North Carolina Stage Company finishes its fifth season with the biting political comedy “Chesapeake,” the story of a conservative Southern senator, a wild performance artist, and the lawmaker’s dog, which comes between them.

Except for the pooch, the show recalls the 1993 clash between controversial performance artist Karen Finley and the former U.S. Senator Jesse Helms of North Carolina.

But wild as Finley is, “Chesapeake” playwright Lee Blessing goes way beyond reality in this witty piece. It’s a one-man show, delivered with exceptional skill by Charlie McIver, directed by his wife Angie Flynn-McIver, both co-founders of N.C. Stage. The language and subject matter can be adult in nature, but it’s performed with outrageous humor — humor that clicked on opening night, with McIver rightly earning a standing ovation and a couple of curtain calls.

He plays the role of Kerr, an artful eccentric who has received a National Endowment for the Arts grant for his “show,” which consists of having audience members come on stage, and remove pieces of his clothing, one at a time until he stands naked before them. None of this is actually performed at N.C. Stage, but is part of Kerr’s dialogue.

Kerr’s performance, and the grant, earns him the wrath of fictional U.S. Rep. Therm Pooley, whose condemnation of the piece basically gets him elected to the Senate. Kerr then vows revenge against Pooley, and turns his wrath against the man’s dog, a Chesapeake Bay retriever.

That’s as far as we’ll go with the story line, except to say that Kerr’s plot goes horribly out of control, and leads to a transformation of everyone involved.

With no one to share the dialogue, and little in the way of props or staging (except for a rear projection screen), McIver caries the load alone, reeling off this monologue, mostly in the role of Kerr, but sometimes as Pooley or the dog. It’s a masterful bit of acting, showing again that he is among the top players on the local scene.

Take Me Out

Once again, of course, this review is taken from the Mountain Xpress, without their knowledge or consent, and we hope they don't mind.
--BG

Scapegoat hits a home run

Take Me Out parks local theater collective in the majors

by Cecil Bothwell in Vol. 13 / Iss. 40 on 05/02/2007

Going into the 2007 season, Director Taryn Strauss had loaded the bases, having previously coached the Scapegoat Theatre Collective productions of Everything in the Garden, The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told and The Exonerated. Now, like any pinch hitter worth the name, she has blasted one over the fence. The company’s current production of Richard Greenberg’s Take Me Out is superb.

The play scooped up a Tony Award for Greenberg—a good starter for any acting team, but the scale of the drama had to pose a directorial challenge. Eleven male actors on the bench, cast in 14 roles and scenes that ran from bar-room intimacy to group nudity in a locker-room shower offered plenty of opportunities to drop the ball. At the end of the action, the players, the 18-member crew, producer Lauren Alleman and Strauss deserved the roar of the crowd and the extended standing ovation accorded them on opening night.

OK. Enough with the baseball metaphors. For all the fun—and the play is oft-times hilarious—Take Me Out is also a deadly serious examination of homophobia, racism and personal responsibility. The story is that of a major-league star who comes out of the closet in the middle of a winning season. More importantly, it’s an exploration of the reaction of his teammates and coach, his business manager and friends. The casual, even slightly homoerotic behavior of sports players in jock straps is cast in a new light. The fact that the gay player is black adds another layer of tension, with racism tossed into the uneasy mix.

As the producers have accurately explained, “This show explores what happens when America’s favorite pastime becomes a true reflection of our country’s diversity, and how this affects the boys who are faced with that all important question, ‘Which team do you bat for?’”

Jason Williams shines as business manager Mason—adroitly funny, and sweetly gay. Liam Smith brings a quiet, goofy charm to his portrayal of Jason, lifting a supporting role to the heights. And Darren Marshall, perhaps type-cast as team coach, delivers in three roles with a stunning dynamic emotional range. The casting is excellent throughout, and Anna Tillman deserves high marks for her imaginative and convincing set design.

Scapegoat’s mission is to create “exceptional, transformative theatre,” and they are rapidly establishing a reputation as Asheville’s cutting-edge troupe. It’s easy enough to be political and artsy, and to expect that the choice of hot-topic plays would suffice to make a mark. The troupe far exceeds expectations, again. Extending its reach from proselytizing to practicality, Scapegoat also uses its productions as fund-raisers. Take Me Out is a benefit for I-RISE, a GLBTQ nonprofit that aims to be a forum for communication and education and provide a safe venue for socialization and entertainment for the other-than-straight community.

A hint for I-RISE: You don’t need to worry about the entertainment. A hint for everyone: You don’t need to be other-than-straight to love this play, but there is some strong language and one pair of naked buttocks.

Applause. Applause. Applause.

A Midsummer Night's Dream at NCSC

Shakespeare came alive for me at North Carolina Stage Company. I have often doubted my ability to understand his dialogue, and I have often questioned the wisdom of making his plays "relevant" to modern times. Not any more.
How did this cast capture my attention and win me over? After being delightfully entertained for 2 hours I'm still not sure. Walking into the empty theatre, I could see the stage was set with simple props, yet I was drawn to them, knowing they would soon be part of a story.
The ensemble of eight actors entered and went to work, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say they came to play. With each taking on multiple roles, they worked together so well that they made it look easy and fun. The performance, in spite of much complicated movement and dialogue, was polished and smooth from start to finish.
I was intrigued that the actors made almost all costume changes on stage as well as doing all the set changes themselves. I felt that there was a message there for me. I believe the message said, "We are the actors. We are about to do our part. You are the audience. Your job is to follow our lead and allow your imagination to take you on an adventure."
What an adventure it was! We laughed our way through comedy, poetry, drama, and slapstick. This powerful group of professional actors was sharp, quick, and on target all night long.
It is true that I missed some of the words. But the play was so creatively directed and the actors so engaging in their art, that it did not matter. If Shakespeare could see his play and the modern use of scooters, a skateboard, and cell phones, he might raise an eyebrow or two. His work though, is alive and well at North Carolina Stage Company.

--Robert Arthur

Raindrop Waltz

In the rather hit or miss world of Asheville theater, I find it impressive that 35 Below manages to consistently produce what I think is really good theater. I believe it's a testament to the vision of the ACT staff, and to Jenny Bunn in particular, who pick out these often unheard of, and sometimes risky plays, and produces them with the same amount of, or sometimes more, professionalism as any show ACT does. Perhaps I'm a little biased because I work on so many shows at 35 Below, but I think their shows are some of the best theater in town.
One show I did not work on in any capacity was their recent production of The Raindrop Waltz, and so I think I can say this with little prejudice, it is another truly great show.
The script is well written and very moving. It also struck a chord with me because it's about the area around WNC, where I grew up, and I love seeing places and characters that seem familiar to me. It gives me a sense of pride to be able to identify in some way with these people. It's also not about Southern stereotypes, but about real people who live in a specific culture.
It is filled with many authentic and nuanced performances from the entire cast, but especially notable are the performances by Cory Boughton, Sally Cheney, and Mike Vaniman. Broughton is the narrator and the glue of the story. His character, Jody Lee, is more a storyteller than anything else, and his job is to assemble the poignant pieces of his family's story together for us. Broughton speaks to the audience with such comfort that it almost seems as it is truly his story. The great thing about Broughton's performance is that it's big enough to convey his inner feelings, but subtle enough to seem authentic.
Sally Cheney plays the slowly deteriorating matriarch of this broken family. She endues her performance with such a familiarity and sweetness, that even when she talks bad about her own family, we still can't get upset with her. Sally gives herself over so completely to her character, Agnes Tester, that it's like watching one's own parents or grandparents out there. In fact I saw a lot of things in her that I also recognized in my own grandmother.
Finally Mike Vaniman gives a compact but powerful performance as Manard Potts, a town derelict who reveals to Jody Lee, and us, the events of one tragic day that finally broke this already fragile family. It is a captivating part, and Vaniman plays it with a nice mixture of wild abandon, and sage wisdom.
Don't however let this disparage the merits of the rest of the cast. This is a very talented ensemble. Every actor seemed in the moment, and they made every character believable.
The set is probably one of the most ambitious sets I've seen in 35 Below. It consists of a very authentic looking front porch flanked by two pieces of scrim on either side which are painted to represent to nearby mountains. There is a nice stump on one side of the playing area, and a small bench on the other. The space was used very efficiently and the lighting helped to differentiate areas and time well.
I feel though that it was a bit cramped in 35 Below however. The space felt like it limited the actors movements a bit, and didn't allow them to be as free in their characterizations as they could have been. Also the seating arrangement chosen for this show is not my favorite. When things are set "Proscenium" style at 35 Below sight lines become a big problem, as was the case in some parts of this show. Many of the seated moments and things of the floor were blocked. It's hard to say what space would have been right for this show. While things felt a bit cramped in 35 Below, it gave the show a good intimacy. On the other hand I fear the mainstage would have been too big for this production and much of the actors very nuanced performances would have been lost. Probably a stage about the size of NCStage's would have fit the play well.
The only other critique I have is the use of the scrim. It is used rather effectively for several flashback scenes in the second half, but I wish the effect would have been introduced sooner in the first act. The first use of the scrim didn't come until the second act and when it first happened it was a bit jarring. I think there were several moments in the first act that might have been appropriate places to employ the scrim effect, and would have allowed us to get accustomed to the effect, keeping us in the scene more. Maybe it's just the designer coming out in me, but I knew it was going to be used sometime and was sitting there waiting for it to happen.
This however doesn't take away from the fact that 35 Below's production of The Raindrop Waltz is very well done, with many great performances, and a real engaging script. I think it's definitely theater worth seeing.

--Jason Williams

Wish I Had A Sylvia Plath

Elisabeth Gray is a wonderful actor. She is an engaging and even magnetic performer, and when she is actually allowed to perform, Edward Anthony’s Wish I Had A Sylvia Plath is a very compelling and moving play. Unfortunately, Ms Gray is almost constantly upstaged by the technical elements of the production, and thus is unable to salvage through her acting alone a very interesting play that is bogged down in technical trickery.

The play explores the suicide of Sylvia Plath through the eyes of Esther Greenwood, named after the protagonist of Plath’s The Bell Jar, thus allowing both a personal connection and a certain amount of “colorful revisionism” in regards to the poet herself, and this is a good thing. The play begins and ends with her head in the oven, and through conversations with the oven (voiced in delightful “wa-wa” noises by Ms. Gray, and accompanying flashes of light by the oven), a cooking show performed for the audience called “Better Tomes and Gardens” (which title quickly became more confusing than funny, as it was continually reintroduced), and periodic lapses into memory provided by a projector screen, the audience is allowed to see the final hazy reflections of Esther Greenwood on what has driven her to this oven, especially focusing on her adulterous husband Ned Pewes.

As a concept, this works very well, but the structure relied too heavily on technical tricks, and not enough on theatrical imagination.

Although quite strong overall, part of the blame lies in the writing: the production script has evolved significantly from the playwright’s first editions, and although the script remains smart, witty, funny, and at times mildly provocative, at least one fundamental change was made that greatly lessens the impact of the play over all. In earlier versions, the play was imaginatively and evocatively structured after the four phases of Hypoxia, the condition that develops as one dies of gas inhalation. This allowed the gradual devolution from Stage one (little effect except on eyesight; a gradual dimming of the world) to an increase in circulation, respiration, and blood pressure, to the third stage which includes major disturbances including hallucinations, and finally to the fourth, fatal stage. While the new script is probably tighter overall and certainly flows better in places, the abandoning of this structure leaves the audience with less to discover, less to see unfold. Rather, we seem to start in phase three and simply exist there for an hour and a half, while Esther Greenwood explains over and over that her parents, but mostly her adulterous husband have driven her to suicide.

Of the two major conceits she uses to make that point (the cooking show and the projected video) the former is most effective. There is something delightfully mid-century Americana about the over the top cooking show featuring Seven Liar Lasagna and Black Tar Brain Soufflé. It accents the desperate struggle for some kind of “normalcy” in a life that is falling apart at the seams, and helps provide a through-line for the audience. I did find myself growing slightly tired of the same two recipes, but overall the concept works.

The video projection, however, is probably the key to the ultimate collapse of what could have been a great play. Really almost nothing about it worked, theatrically speaking. Certainly, it turned on when it was supposed to, you could see it from all of the audience, etc, but despite these marginal technical successes, it stifled the creativity of the production and distracted from the really interesting thing about the piece—the performer. For one thing, the film was shot in a jerky, flat, and somewhat washed out style that made it look amateurish and dull. It may have been meant to evoke the feel of an early silent film, with its jerky cuts and sometimes unsteady camera, but even if so, it raised another question: why evoke an early 20^th century period, if the play was presumably taking place at mid-century? Of course, I’m only guessing that because of the time-line of Sylvia Plath’s life, and the tenor of Ms Gray’s performance, but the costumes on the video looked only vaguely evocative of some earlier time—perhaps the 60’s—the music seemed mostly drawn form the 40’s (and, oddly, did not include the Ryan Adams song after which the play is named), and the houses featured look decidedly 70’s. (Ms Gray’s electric red dress was evocative of the 50’s in that peculiar way only certain 80’s fashions can be, an issue not wholly related to the video, but distracting nonetheless.) Ms Gray was also unable to quite sync her voices (she provided the voices for the mouthing actors on the screen) with those being projected, which may have also been intentional, but I could not see what purpose it served, aside from being distracting, an making me wonder why these sequences were not more rehearsed. Overall, I was surprised that a video that featured so prominently in the play would not be more polished and professionally produced.

The real failure of the video, however, is that is was simply not interesting theatrically. The strength of any one-person play is always the performer, as much as the material, and Elisabeth Gray seems quite up to the challenge, but she was never quite allowed the opportunity to show it. Her connection with the audience kept being interrupted by the intrusion of the video, which physically dwarfed her and forced her to upstage herself terribly whenever she talked to the screen. Her natural public affinity was thus continually compromised by her reliance on the screen to tell the story for her, and by her physical disconnect from the audience whenever the device was employed. I recognize that the playwright was very concerned that none of the characters in the story be neglected or left out, especially Ned Pewes, and I’m sure the producers were interested in finding new and clever ways of doing that, but I believe that the most effective tool at their disposal was their actor. My point was proved by about 20 seconds of the play in which Esther spoke in her mother’s voice but did not do so while looking at the screen (which was not on), and replied in her own voice. This dialogue was brief, Esther’s only word being a repeated “no,” but the moment was possibly the most moving of the play, and largely because of the human struggle that was suddenly seen in this actor finally being given the chance to expose herself to the theatrical magic of her own strengths, and her character’s deep needs, worries, and flaws. It was a lovely, but frustratingly singular moment.

Not everything about the video was awful, and a few moments were quite nice and even theatrical, such as seeing Esther on-screen going through the same physical motions as Esther on-stage, and seeing only in the video that she is placing towels under the doors so as not to accidentally gas her children. The final moment of the play, with Esther on-stage placing her head in the oven while behind her Esther on-screen is placing her head on her pillow was a brief and beautiful glimpse into the possibilities of the projection screen, if had had been used more theatrically and less literally all along.

Instead, however, the final moments in the theatre, when the play is clearly over, are dominated again by the video, which intrudes dully: In lieu of a curtain call, the credits (the same credits that we have in our programs, mind you) are scrolled across the screen movie style, while Esther and her daughter wave at the camera and traipse through a meadow. It’s not that the idea is all bad—I think there can be great value in curtain calls that challenge audience perceptions in some way- but in this case, it was distracting and annoying. Perhaps if the video usage had been more creative and integral all along, this ending would have seemed appropriate, but I suspect that many in the audience felt as I did: that we did not come to see a video, and did not want to applaud to a video. Rather, we came to see a performer, who created a world with her words and made us joyful at the magical possibilities of human interaction to create much more than what we see in front of us, and we wanted to applaud the person, the actor, who in that moment had created this world for us. Ms Gray never appeared, which was certainly a choice to make the audience feel something, but probably not what this audience member felt: cheated—cheated out of the chance to thank the performer. The notion that a video could stand in for real human connection seemed rather rude and presumptuous.

It that way, though, it was the perfect conclusion to a play in which it had, sadly, been allowed to do just that.

--Willie Repoley

itp's Oleanna

Editor's note: this review is www.mountainx.com, the Mountian Xpress website. You can read original posting at http://www.mountainx.com/ae/2007/play_review_oleanna_at_nc_stage

~

Play Review: Oleanna at NC Stage

—Alli Marshall, A&E reporter

by Alli Marshall on 03/22/2007

It’s telling that title of this two-person David Mamet play is completely obscure. It’s taken from a 19th century folk song that references the ideal of utopian societies. Got that?

The play, performed by immediate theatre project (itp) at NC Stage Company, is not an easy one to watch—though certainly not due to the dramatic talents of stars Katie Fuller and Peter Tamm. The show revolves around the interactions between a pompous, self-absorbed (though likely harmless) university professor and his disturbed female student in jeopardy of failing a course. Following these characters over three acts, Oleanna deconstructs the source and use of power—both real and imagined—between these two people.

Interestingly, Mamet wrote the play 15 years ago (a year after the Clarence Thomas-Anita Hill hearings, notes Wikipedia.org). My initial reaction as a viewer, with no previous knowledge of the show, was that seeing an older man paired with a college-aged woman screamed “taboo,” especially with the collegiate setting thrown in to the mix. Is it just that recent events involving alleged teacher abuses of students makes any teacher-student interaction suspect? Has too much political correctness poisoned our collective perception? These are some of the questions around which Oleanna dances.

ITP’s staging of the play has the two characters both facing the audience, the stage split by white electrical tape. Professor John sits behind his desk regarding two chalk-drawn squares representing two chairs, while student Carol sits in one of the chairs facing a large chalked rectangle representing John’s desk. They both deliver their lines in halting, awkward, oft-interrupted phrasing that builds tension and confusion. The trick is, they interact with each other without actually looking at each other, the entire time addressing their speech to the audience. It’s a clever approach that doesn’t fully reveal its effectiveness until the first eruptive moment of physical contact.

As far as the characters go, Tamm offers up a deliberately contrived intellectual, bolstered by self-importance and pretension. “I asked myself if I engaged in heterodoxy,” he says at one point. And, “You find me pedantic.” He seems to be teaching a course based on his own life experience and self-examination.

Fuller, meanwhile, plays Carol as a creepier version of Ally Sheedy’s “Alison the Basketcase” in The Breakfast Club. Think class misfit-meets-recently converted femi-nazi with the lingo to boot. Words like “hypocrisy,” “elitism” and “exploitive” pepper her speech. As the scenes progress, Carol’s appearance shifts from disheveled and dumpy to pulled together and militant while John evolves from button-downed to unglued. It’s worth noting that William H. Macy starred in the debut.

As I said, Oleanna isn’t a fun show, and it doesn’t offer much in the way of answers. In fact, I found myself rushing from the theater with the rest of the audience after the final terse moments, no more clear on the point than when the play began. That said, it’s completely worth seeing—especially for theater-goers who like their drama on the dark side. The play moves briskly along without a single dull moment and the outcome—obtuse as it may be—will have viewers questioning many commonly held conceptions.

Oleanna runs through Sunday, Apr. 1, Wednesday-Saturdays at 7:30 p.m., Sundays at 2 p.m. Tickets are $10 Wednesdays and Sundays, $15 other nights. 350-9090.

Arcadia at Warren Wilson

Tom Stoppard is known for his erudite, word-heavy plays that sometimes seem designed to obfuscate as much as to edify or amuse, although they certainly do that, too. His current Broadway play cycle, The Coast of Utopia is cut across such a wide swath of obscure Russian academia of a hundred years ago, that the program includes helpful suggestions for further (heavy) reading, at least one of which quickly became one of the most coveted and hard to find books in New York, and only partly because so few of them were on the shelves to begin with. Warren Wilson College’s recent production of Stoppard’s Arcadia, directed by Ron Bashford, also included several pages of definitions and explanations of words and phrases in the program, which were helpful, but even without this lexicon, the show was understandable and enjoyable, despite—and of course because of—Mr Stoppard’s strong style.

The play opens with an evocative and surprisingly exciting moment in which a character we will later know as the nearly silent child Gus walks to center stage, sits upon an elaborately upholstered chair, and bites into an apple, savoring every bite. What this has to do with the play itself only starts to become clear much later, but the moment is a brilliant way of arousing the imagination and the senses in anticipation of whatever may follow this unusual and surprising beginning.

What follows, of course, is a romp through poetry, journalism, dahlias, thermodynamics, dueling, love, education, adultery, turtles, dancing, chaos theory, and time. For starters. That all of this is actually interesting and relatively easy to follow is a testament to the skill and hard work of the students and their director.

Mr Bashford has a way of working with actors that both encourages creativity and demands a high level of commitment to the text and to one’s fellow actors, and this approach pays off from the first spoken words. The play starts with a lead actor in conversation with a servant, a minor role, but it is immediately clear that both actors have been asked to put a lot of effort into both the outward aspects of their roles, including consistently good English accents, but also into establishing real connections with each other. Without that human connection shared between all of the cast, the play could easily devolve into a bunch of over privileged academics going on about obscure theories for two hours. Instead, we get a glimpse into the lives of people who sometimes let their academic aspiration get the better of themselves, but who struggle with love and work, who try to exist as strangers, as lovers, and as family, and who care deeply about themselves, their fellows, and their sometimes eccentric pastimes.

Stoppard’s plot, a story set in both 1809 and the present, can take a long time to unfold, but it is fascinating stuff, and these young performers are able to make it consistently interesting, funny, and even exciting, in a subtle sort of way. Come to this play prepared to listen. But don’t think too much—just listen to the words, and trust that the actors have quite a good idea how to get where they are going.

--Willie Repoley

Asheville Puppetry Alliance’s Rapunzel

I have not seen much children’s theatre, and my knowledge of puppetry is pretty much limited to having read Pinocchio and seen Being John Malkovich. Also, I am not a child, nor do I have any. I am certainly not the target audience for Rapunzel, presented by Pamella O’Conner.

Which is all to say that I didn’t like the show all that much. It is certainly not that the show was simply bad; I do think that most of the children were interested, as were their parents, I’m sure, and I am glad that they had the opportunity to experience live theatre and the specific magic of puppets. I just thought that the show was ultimately rather soulless.

Let’s start with the script. What do you do with a fairy tale, in our modern age? Does it have to be modernized or moralized or scrutinized to death? Or should it just be told simply, assuming that whatever out-dated moral lessons of the story will not harm the child hearing the story? I don’t know. It’s a complicated question. I do know that I found it uncomfortable to be presented with the stereotypes of Rapunzel without any thought (that I could see) into how these myths could be viewed more expansively, more creatively. Instead, we are presented with the wife whose unreasonable demands land her husband in trouble, the prince whose offer of marriage leads to the happy ending, et cetera. I’m not saying that every fairy tale has to be updated or made politically correct or whatever, I’m just saying that in this case, the issue seemed unexamined, and I noticed it. A few things were indeed brought out—the old lady, here called Mother Gothel, is called an old fairy, and has a strong connection to the earth and to plants and to the air. But this connection is not explored and her need for a child to love and protect and to raise as her own is likewise ignored. I wanted the play to ask why! The character was really interesting, but frustratingly unexamined. Maybe kids just want the story they know, I’m no expert, but if we can also give them something more, isn’t a shame not to?

At any rate, it seems to me that there are three things to hope for in a children’s show, and none of them were espesially well represented at the performance I saw. One is lots of giggling. This show had a little, but not much. Second is children getting involved and talking to the performers. Now, clearly this is not the best model for all children’s shows, but I think it would have been appropriate for this show, and in my opinion, would have strengthened it considerably. Near the end of the show, O’Conner did ask the children to echo Mother Gothel’s sing-song chant, which they did enthusiastically, but I wonder why this device was not employed from the old woman’s first entrance! The last thing I look for in a great kid’s show is that awed gasp from all the children at some effect that simply cannot be achieved through television or other mediums they may have experienced. There were a few moments that seemed designed to do this, but they did not really work. (Actually, some of those moments were transitions to shadow puppets, but the shadow puppets were actually a little confusing; my companion was not very familiar with shadow puppets and did not recognize them as such, and I am sure that many of the children saw nothing but a movie screen on which the colorless figures moved very jerkily for some unknown reason. At the end of the performance, O’Conner showed the kids how some of the puppets—including the shadow puppets— worked, and I found myself wondering if the show would have been more effective if that demonstration had taken place before performance rather that after. I think being “in” on the magic can actually enhance the experience in a show like this, rather than detract from it.) Rapunzel is a familiar story, and although it has many variations, we all basically know what is going to happen, so it seems to me that the opportunity in making it a great show—rather than just a story-book on stage—is in reexamining the themes and characters of the myth itself. I say either take this dark and disturbing story and really explore that direction (although the resulting show may not be for children!) or take this dark and disturbing story and push against it to create something that finds real humor and magic through the darkness. I’ll never forget a production I saw of Cinderella, another dark story, that featured a lot of slapstick, including some darkly funny stuff like toes being chopped off and tossed into the audience (which the kids absolutely loved) as well as silly antics that had the audience in stitches, with many children yelling at the performers (“Look behind you! The other way! No, the other way!”), and also had some of the quietest, most magical and creative moments I had ever seen on stage. And those moments worked in large part because they had been earned: The show had already drawn the audience in with laughter and therefore allowed us to be open to the possibility that a few bunches of newspaper could take on a shape and a life of their own…

I guess that’s what I’m driving at, really. O’Conner’s Rapunzel is not a bad show; it has some interesting puppets and O’Connor is clearly a talented artist, as is Lauren Fortuna, her assistant on this show. They both interacted with the puppets and the audience in interesting ways, and integrated direct presentation to the audience with interaction through the puppets. The show is perfectly fine, and certainly many people got a lot out of it. But it did not offer much in the way of ideas, and as a result did not grasp my attention. I thought the show simply lacked the kind of creativity that leads to surprising choices and delightful insights. Without that creativity, it is not much more than a mildly amusing and distracting way to introduce children to puppets; the real leaps of the imagination will have to happen somewhere else. Hopefully some of the children will have left having found enough inspiration to do that themselves.

~Willie Repoley

editor's note: this is another review from the Asheville Citizen-Times. APAR is not authorized to re-print it, but here it is anyway. You can read the original post at http://www.take5online.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=200770222078

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Review: Actors craft short gems in ‘All in the Timing’

by Jim Cavener, Take5 Correspondent

published February 23, 2007 12:15 am

The cast and crew of North Carolina Stage Company’s “All in the Timing” take the show’s title to heart. This is one of the most deftly directed and best-timed comedies seen in a long time. “All in The Timing” is an unconventional evening of theater. Not just edgy and in your face, this is truly fascinating theater, in concept and structure, exquisitely executed.

Director Ron Bashford has assembled the ensemble of the year: Neela Munoz, Rebecca Morris, Chris Allison and the astonishingly versatile Charlie Flynn McIver. They take on author David Ives’ intriguing work with a vengeance. The show features six short pieces, each totally separate from the others, each riveting in its construct.

The opening piece is called “Sure Thing” and well uses the talents of Chris Allison and Rebecca Morris. It’s a word game with some of the most rapid repartee heard in these parts in a long while.

“Words, Words, Words” is set in a science lab where three chimpanzees work on three typewriters, to prove that given enough time, they will eventually write “Hamlet.” McIver and Munoz dazzle with their inspired mock-monkey movement and facial expressions.

“Universal Language” is a take-off from Esperanto, but with a twist. The old language, English, is called “John Cleese,” named for the “Monty Python” star, to give you a clue of the loony twists. There’s a message here, and each viewer may come out with a different one.

“Philip Glass Buys a Loaf of Bread” is as surrealistic as the other bits, and it helps to know the repetitive musical tones of the 20th century composer mentioned in the title. The vocal tones and the cleverly choreographed movement show the stunning skills of this ensemble cast.

“The Philadelphia” is about as obscure and intellectually challenging as any of this lot. You have to see it to attempt to understand it. The restaurant menu starts off with cream of kidney soup, and goes downhill from there. But Morris and Allison shine, and McIver is awesome. As always.

“Variations on the Death of Trotsky” closes this series of romps. It happens in the suburbs of Mexico City in 1940, on the day Leon Trotsky dies. McIver does Trotsky with Munoz as his wife. The Russian accents are a hoot and the frequent death scenes can be taken many ways. Munoz’ twisted face almost stops the show.

Jim Cavener reviews theater for Take5. E-mail JimCavener@aya.Yale.edu.