Friday, October 30, 2015

Flashback to some really cool marionettes...

Happy Flashback Friday, all!  After reveling in the fun of sock puppet Tyrone earlier in the week, I was thinking about other theatrical puppet fun I've experienced.  While rummaging through old reviews, I noticed this post from October, 2009.  This was a magical, incredible evening and I wish I could find a time machine to relive it.  Enjoy, along with the flashback Halloween photos I've posted at the bottom of this e-mail.  Boo!

10/09:  Went to Carnegie Hall last Wednesday night and saw the Quanzhou Marionette Theater, part of Carnegie Hall’s festival celebrating Chinese culture.  I think I’ve pointed out before that I love puppets and marionettes, so when I saw an article about this troupe, I was intrigued.  Thanks to my friend Layne, I actually got to see it!  Up close and personal!  Thank you, Layne! 

May I just say this was one of the most magical evenings I have ever spent in a theater?  Or concert hall, as it were.  Everything about it was just enchanting.  The music, the singing, the marionettes.  It was glorious.  I honestly don’t think I’ll be able to do it justice.  There were six vignettes, plus an encore that truly had to be seen to be believed.  There was amazingly complex singing.  Live musicians played authentic instruments, including the drum that you tune with your foot.  Some of the pieces were incredibly funny and some were incredibly moving.  The marionettes are on what looks like hangers, and the troupe would pull strings off the hanger, put them in a different spot, and do all sorts of things to manipulate the marionettes.  Really incredible.  But after a while, you stop looking at these wonderfully agile people and concentrate on the marionettes.  They become real.  I tell you, I was convinced that monkey riding a bike was real.  I was thinking to myself—look at that monkey!  Forgetting there was someone there making all this magic happen. 

 photo credit: James Estrin
One piece is especially still in my head:  the last vignette, before the encore with the monkey, was called the Lantern Festival, and it was just a parade of different marionettes, celebrating.  At one point, five older women marionettes came out and were singing of their wild pasts.  The puppeteers moved some strings around, and suddenly the marionettes turned upside down and they were all the young women in beautiful gowns!  It was magical!  You didn’t see it coming at all!  You should’ve heard the ooooos and ahhhhhhhs in the theater.  Oh, and one marionette, a drunken lout, picked up a pitcher, and drank wine straight out of it!  Soooooo amazing!!!  Oh, and the monkey picked up a guitar and started playing Spanish music!   I wish the company had done more than one performance—I would’ve made everyone go back with me.  If you ever see they’re performing around you, go go go.




 
 

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Review - Hand to God

In the category of "yet another play I waited way too long to see," I finally finally saw Hand to God last night.  A handsome friend and I had talked about seeing it for months, then they posted a closing date, yet still we dragged our heels.  Finally, when the most recent press release announced a cast change, we knew we had to see it before the cast change happened.  I'll leave you to mull that on your own...

I'm normally not really a fan of smutty, dirty comedy filled with profanity (yes, in some ways, I am your grandmother and I would like you to get off my lawn) and for some reason I had in my mind that Hand to God would be like that and only like that.  Thankfully, I was wrong.  Yes, it's deeply disturbing, profanely funny and gory in places (and definitely has a potty mouth), but it's also subversively philosophical about the dangers of repressing your feelings, of not dealing with grief, and of letting your faith get in the way of your reason. 

front row!!
When we first got to our seats, we were a little wary because we were seated in the front row.  We thought it would be way too close and scoped out seats further back that we would move into at intermission.  Well, at intermission, we looked at each other and said, "No WAY are we moving!!"  We loved the show and loved being so close to the action!

I've been in many church basements that look like the opening set for Hand to God, so it was immediately familiar to me.  Everything that happens after?  Not so much.  The first scene takes place in that church basement, where a distracted woman is trying to get uninterested teens excited about Christian puppet shows.  These are some typical teens, with some disgustingly riotous dialogue and then we meet our lead character, Jason, a shy young man who is embarrassed by everything, including his puppet-show-instructor mom.  His sock puppet, named Tyrone, seems innocent enough at first, but then turns into something else entirely as the play goes on.

I can't really describe everything that happens, because (1) I'd hate to ruin the surprises, and (2) the show is so audaciously and wildly original, it sort of defies belief!  It certainly defied mine!  Just describing all the plot points do not do the script justice.  I could not see where the twists and turns of the script would take me, and I absolutely never imagined how moved I would be as we neared the end of the evening, nor how terrified I would be by the prospect of a future as described in the coda.  It was a seriously wild ride throughout Hand to God - I haven't laughed that hard in the theater in a long time, but there were so many layers going on, I was also stunned.  OK, I will mention three things that cracked me up:  graphic puppet sex, a rendition of Who's on First, and a sock puppet singing "Jesus Loves Me" with more and more anger because no one is paying attention...

photo credit: Joan Marcus
The performances are incredible, especially the lead gent, Steven Boyer as the shy Jason and his profane, violent sock puppet alter-ego, Tyrone.  His performance was simply spectacular - the two characters were so completely separate, and hello, one of the characters was a sock puppet!  I'm always predisposed to be taken in by a puppet, but the honesty of the performance was so touching.  I felt the pain of this kid, who didn't understand all of the feelings inside of him and he REALLY didn't understand when his ego/superego/id (I'm never sure which is which) came roaring out with such fury through Tyrone.  Geneva Carr is also spectacular as Jason's mom, who makes as many misguided decisions through her grief as Jason does.  Marc Kudisch finds a lot of shading in the character of the pastor, who seems to be one thing, but slowly becomes another.  Michael Oberholtzer and Pamela Bob are the other two teenage characters and they are delightful as well.  What a fantastically cast, wonderfully put-together production.

The subversive quality I talked about earlier intrigues me - the show seems to be rather an indictment on using religion as a panacea or as replacement for human connection or as shelter from reality.  I find it really interesting that the message seems to be palatable to audiences because the really tough stuff is mainly said by a sock puppet.  If we had a human character stating some of the dialogue, would audiences be on board as much?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  But the convention of a puppet getting away with dialogue that no one else can is used beautifully here.  As someone who is constantly amazed at what terrible things can happen in the world under the guise of 'religion', I find arguments/discussions like the ones in Hand to God fascinating.  They just added another brilliant level to a play that could merely be hysterically funny.  Instead it's hysterically funny and utterly thought-provoking.  The show runs until January 3 - seriously, run out there and get tickets.  And if you're lucky enough to sit in the front row like I was?  You'll be treated to some of the most fantastic acting going on in New York right now...  Oh, and if you go on a Tuesday night?  Head over to Marseille afterwards for Tapas Tuesday.  My handsome friend treated me to some delicious tapas - corn crozuettas, lamb albodingas, and duck cigares.  DELICIOUS.  What a terrific night.

Monday, October 26, 2015

ABT 2015 Fall Season, times two!

I love how, when the weather changes, it seems as if it's time for some ballet!  When it's warm around here, time for the spring season at the Met.  And when the chill stays in the air and the leaves start to fall, time to head to (the formerly known as) the State Theatre for the fall season.  Yippee!  I went to two performances last weekend, one purchased full-price and one via TDF, and had a grand time at each.  So I guess this will be a long post.  Grab a cup of coffee and have a seat...

When the schedule was announced, I knew that I wanted to see the new piece choreographed by Mark Morris (I enjoy his work and Gong from a few years ago is a particular favorite) and Le Spectre de la Rose featuring Herman Cornjeo.  I also wanted to catch Monotones, choreographed by Frederick Ashton, and The Green Table, starring Marcelo Gomes.  To fit all those in, I had to go twice, but really, when do you have to twist my arm to see two ballet programs?  Unfortunately, the ushers at (the formerly known as) the State Theatre are a little cranky, so I got no curtain call shots.  Drat.  I've used some production photos I found on the internet and will remove them if so asked.

photo credit: Rosalie O'Connor
Friday night, I sat in the third ring, just off center, and had great sightlines for the first three pieces on my 'must see' list.  The evening started with After You, Mark Morris' new ballet.  Set to music by Johann Hummel and featuring lovely costumes by Isaac Mizrahi, After You is all gorgeous lightness and airiness personified.  There are trios and duets throughout, with repetition, locked arms, quick feet and hand-holding.  It seems as if the title of the piece refers not only to someone saying 'after you' and then they follow, but also an 'after you' referencing the next person you're with.  So there is a longing and desire underneath the seemingly simple loveliness of the steps.  There are twelve dancers in the piece and all have importance throughout, though I admit to a special fondness for whenever Stella Abrera and Calvin Royal III danced together.  He dances with such joy and freedom and she is all precise elegance - together, they bring out the best in each other and also expand their excellence.  And the ending of the piece is brilliant.  But, really, the whole ballet was gorgeous and I'm already dying to see it again.

photo credit: Marty Sohl
After intermission, there were two short pieces, both classics in the ballet canon:  Le Spectre de la Rose (choreographed by Michel Fokine and first danced by Nijinsky in 1911) and Valse Fantaisie (choreographed by George Balanchine).  Both ballets get more across in short running times than many longer ballets do in twice the time.  Le Spectre de la Rose is a gorgeous piece about a young girl who dreams of the rose in her hand coming to life.  Herman Cornejo was spectacular as the Rose - the way he used his arms, to indicate the rose's perfume wafting through the air, was gorgeous, as was the lift and quickness of his leaps and turns.  He truly seemed to be floating on air.  Sarah Lane, as the young girl, was also stunning.  She has the loveliest arms, and in the portions where she's dancing in her sleep, her precision and elegance was exquisite.  Cornejo and Lane have wonderful chemistry and their pas de deux were just stunning.  And Cornejo's exit - wow!  I've been watching other versions on YouTube all weekend, but seeing it live just takes the cake.  This was just a glorious ballet.

Valse Fantaisie was also gorgeous, with such precision in the choreography.  You can immediately tell it's a Balanchine ballet.  Hee Seo and James Whiteside were the lead dancers, with four female soloists dancing alongside.  This had such quickness and airiness, using the tinkly music by Glinka to wonderful effect.  All the dancers moved beautifully and elegantly.  If I found Hee Seo a little stiff, oh well.  I enjoyed seeing this tiny little morsel of loveliness and hope to see it again.

photo credit: Rosalie O'Connor
There was a very long intermission before the final piece of the evening, The Green Table.  I'd read about the ballet as an anti-war piece, choreographed by Kurt Jooss in the aftermath of WWI, but had never seen any of it performed before.  Although I really wanted to see Marcelo Gomes dance it, I was happy that my ABT MVP/character dancer favorite, Roman Zhurbin, was on board for the performances without Gomes.  I'm actually glad I saw Zhurbin do it first (I did see Gomes do it Sunday afternoon, more on the that in a bit).  The Green Table, subtitled 'a dance of death in eight scenes', lasts about a half hour and is a powerful, scary experience.  The pieces open with a table surrounded by diplomats, wearing eerie masks, moving to a creepy tango-like piece of music, symbolizing the disinterest of the powers-that-be in the aftermath of a declaration of war, they're happy to start something they have no intention of participating in.  Suddenly, at the end of their first appearance, they lift guns out of their pockets and shoot them, a startling beginning to the war. 

After that beginning, we then see Death, powerfully and emphatically choreographed as a stomping automaton, ready to devour everything in his path.  He is in the background, foreground or at the side of every scene that follows - the solders' farewells, the battle, the survivors, the brothel and so on.  Each scene is so detailed and specific, with amazingly graphic shapes and spaces to tell the story with complete clarity.  Each dancer was a type, given stark life through the complex choreography.  I was especially taken during this first viewing of Skylar Brandt as the Young Girl and Daniil Simkin as the Profiteer, a slinky sinister thief who also uses war for his own gains.  And always haunting the stage was Zhurbin, so rigid and terrifying, almost like Death possessed.  His first scene is an athletic marvel - he keeps his arms moving up and down, along with a repetitive motion with his legs and feet, throughout an entire scene.  My limbs ached, and my heart ached, from watching.  I thought The Green Table was brilliant.


Seat neighbor-wise, I was in the third row of my section - the gentleman in front of me in the first row had an annoying habit of leaning over the railing, which obscured part of the stage for everyone behind him.  The gal in the second row, right behind him and in front of me, would go absolutely batshit every time he leaned.  I can understand her frustration, but she would just lose her mind and move around so much that no one could see anything!  Why she just didn't calmly tap the gent on his shoulder and ask him to lean back is beyond me.  That is an accepted piece of theater etiquette.  At least I think it is.  I've certainly done it before.  Though I couldn't tap on her shoulder and tell her to calm the bejeezus down...

Sunday afternoon, my TDF ticket was in row twelve of the orchestra!  It was awesome!  At first I thought it would be too close to be able to make sense of all the choreography, but I actually really enjoyed being up close for these three pieces, most especially for my second viewing of The Green Table.  I noticed so many things that I hadn't noticed before and mainly because I was so close.

First up was the Paul Taylor piece Company B.  I think I've seen this one before, though it has been a long time.  First off, has anyone ever represented pure joy through dance better than Paul Taylor?  I don't know.  I just know that his dance pieces make my heart sing.  This one had joy, with a shadow underneath - often, while a dancer was performing buoyant steps in front, there were characters in the back enacting wartime rituals, like shooting rifles, falling in pain, or while a young girl was dancing in longing for her lover at war, you could see shadowy figures in the background walking away.  There were a lot of levels in Company B and they were all tremendously danced.  I especially enjoyed Jeffrey Cirio's amplitude and expression during the "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" section, but everyone was terrific.  There seemed to be a bobble in one of the pieces, where a girl's belt got caught on the belt of the boy who caught her, but they handled it well with a couple of extra turns until they were free.  They had a cute moment during the curtain call where the boy apologized to the girl.  A little personal interaction is always appreciated.

photo credit: Andrea Mohin
Next up was the Ashton duo, Monotones I and II, with music by Erik Satie.  I didn't know these pieces at all, so I was thrilled to experience them.  I practically held my breath throughout them both, they were so exquisitely danced.  They are just pure dance pieces, no bells and whistles, only superb dancers moving slowly through space.  They were almost like artists who draw in one line without their pen ever leaving the page.  The first section had two ladies and one gent, the second had two gents and one lady, and all three of whom moved in sync in each section.  Their phrasing was detailed and the shapes they made were gorgeous.  There was a juxtaposition between steps that thrust the dancers further into the stage, and the lifts and leaps that put them in midair.  The whole thing just flowed and was so gorgeous.  I loved them.

photo credit: Marty Sohl
The last piece was my second viewing of The Green Table and, as I said earlier, I got so much more out of the piece.  I knew what to expect, so I could look at more details and shading.  The despair of the Young Girl (danced this time by Sarah Lane) as she surrenders her dreams, the inevitability of Death capturing most of the people during wartime - there was one moment when you were sure Death was going to take one person and he suddenly turned and took another.  From the orchestra, it was much darker and scarier when Death appeared out of the shadows.  I guess I could see him more easily from the balcony, so downstairs he just suddenly appeared and made his character even more scary.  Marcelo Gomes was masterful as Death, and so different from Zhurbin.  They both were amazing and in totally different ways.  I can't really describe it - it's as if Gomes chose to behave as he did and Zhurbin had no choice.  Does that even make sense?  They were both fantastic.  I'm so glad I saw it a second time.  I hope I get to see it again sometime.  Oh, and I should mention the music by F.A. Cohen was brilliantly played by two pianists at both performances, David LaMarche and Daniel Waite.

Another seat neighbor report - the gent to my right knew EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING.  I felt sorry for his date.  She apparently knew nothing about anything.  I thought about correcting his egregiously wrong statements, but I thought better of it.  The woman behind me was a camel, I think, because she kept asking her date, in her outdoor voice, for her bottle of water.  I shudder to think why she couldn't hold it herself.  And the couple to my other side were big fans of the Andrews Sisters music used during Company B.  I know this because they sang along.  Sigh.  But I wouldn't let anything dim my appreciation for the wonderful dancing.  As I always say (and quote Ed Kleban) "everything is beautiful at the ballet"!  Though I do make a sad face that I won't see more ballet until the weather turns warm again.  No Nutcracker this year, darn it.  Well, maybe I'll have to try NYCB's Nutcracker this year.  Ballet withdrawal is a very sad thing...

Friday, October 23, 2015

Review - Street Theater

I don't normally write things about shows that are put together by dear friends, since I have no objectivity.  Well, very little objectivity.  But, last night, I finally saw a play that I should've seen many times over the years and it just never worked out.  And I was completely slapped in the face by it, so I think that requires a review.

Over the years, I've done readings for TOSOS theater company; I love and revere its artistic director Mark Finley, and I was fortunate enough to get to know one of the company's founders, the late and truly iconic Doric Wilson (you can read about some of my memories of Doric and his memorial service HERE).  TOSOS had done several incarnations of Doric's play Street Theater, but for some unknown reason, I was always out of town when it performed.  It became kind of a joke.  When TOSOS announced there would be a production at the Eagle bar this month, I knew my time had finally come.

It's quite a trek to get over to the Eagle, but it's a fantastic site for a play like Street Theater.  A raucous, glorious slice-of-gay-life piece that takes place on the day of the Stonewall riots, Street Theater being staged in a small, dingy old NYC gay bar with the audience sitting all around the performers is genius.  There's an excitement and a breathlessness that you can't always conjure up when you're sitting five miles away from the stage.  You're up close and personal with all of the fantastic performers, who you get to know intimately over only 90 minutes or so.

photo credit: Duncan Pflaster
Honestly, it's sort of miraculous at how well you get to know these characters so quickly.  It's a tribute to the writing, the performers and the direction that the connection happens so quickly.  I laughed and nodded appreciatively at the smart and funny way things unfolded - the dialogue was so true and funny, the characters were honest and interesting.  They could've all been colorful clichés, and maybe they were, but they were clichés turned on their sides because of the razor sharp writing.  I got so emotionally connected to everyone that the play just flew by and I felt I was truly inside what was happening.  And then...the last ten minutes.  Suddenly, I was sobbing.  Again, what I was watching and experiencing was so raw and so honest, I couldn't breathe.  The play ended and I couldn't speak either.  Afterwards, all I could do was hug Mark Finley, my dear friend and the genius director, and just sob "I miss Doric."  I didn't really know how much until I saw Street Theater.  Oh, how I wish I could've seen the show earlier so I could've told him how hard it hit me.  I think he would've liked that.  Or not.  You never knew with Doric.  That was his charm.

Sitting from my spot of straight white girl privilege, of course, and as a liberal, I thought I understood what happened in those days (and, in fact, what still happens now, on a different level).  I thought, oh I see, I empathize.  But the ending of Street Theater just smacked me and I suddenly realized, no, I don't see.  I can't.  I can't know or truly understand.  And my heart breaks.  I'm actually kinda crying now, so I guess it's a good thing my boss is out of the office today.  I still feel all excited and breathless and weepy and laughing and all the wonderful things that Doric put into his play.  The utter authenticity that came from his actually being there just rings through and through my brain.  That, my friends, is something that theater does like nothing else. 

Please, go see Street Theater.  It only has two more performances at the Eagle, tonight and tomorrow night.  I've heard a rumor it's sold out, but I think if there's a big enough clamor for tickets, they'll squeeze you in.  This play needs to be seen.  We need to remember, not only Doric, but the struggle.  And how better to try to understand than by remembering and laughing and crying.  Together.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Mini-reviews of opera and film

I've recently stepped out of my theater comfort zone to check out some opera and film.  Oh, wait, opera is very theater-y and the movie I saw was a live filming of a play.  So maybe I didn't step TOO far out of my comfort zone... ;)

Last week, I went with my British-actor-loving-friend (the pal with whom I saw Pinter's Old Times) to see Benedict Cumberbatch in the National Theatre's live filming of Hamlet.  I know Cumberbatch is all the rage, and my pal worships him, but I've never actually seen him in anything (well, I guess I technically saw him in the film of August: Osage County, because I 'watched' it on a plane once, but I slept through nearly the entire movie, so I can't remember him at all).

photo credit: Johan Persson
Anyway, I enjoyed the viewing, or at least most of the acting, but I thought the production 'concept' was really dumb and I didn't like a lot of the staging or the cuts to the text (really, we're not starting with the watch and hearing about the ghost?  confusing.).  And, wow, did the intermission come awfully late in the proceedings.  But Cumberbatch was quite compelling as Hamlet, very intelligent and clear, with a lot of wit and charm alongside his grief and confusion.  The close-ups from the movie cameras only helped with his excellent interpretation of the character.  All of his soliloquies were beautifully done, with such clear insight, that occasionally it felt as if I were hearing them for the first time.  I was very impressed with him.

I also enjoyed Ciaran Hinds as Claudius - he was very over-macho and devious and constantly held my attention.  Jim Norton was also terrific as Polonius.  I did not enjoy the gal playing Ophelia in the extreme, though I will say that the wackadoodle concept did her no favors, nor did the filming close-ups.  And you know I wasn't completely engaged when I became obsessed with Horatio and his backpack.  Horatio carried a backpack in every scene.  Why?  Was there something in there he might need immediately?  Was he afraid Hamlet would steal it?  Would he pull out something to save Hamlet at the end?  I was completely befuddled by the backpack, which totally indicates that I wasn't on board with the direction.  I have friends who think I should write a play called Horatio's Backpack.  I'm seriously thinking about it...

Seat neighbor report:  I was sitting next to one of the most unpleasant people in the world.  Everything was 'so stupid,' 'overrated,' or the 'worst ever.'  Anything that appeared on the big screen during the pre-show was poo poohed by this guy, who yelled at his date for not calling his correct cell phone number to confirm their attendance.  SO unpleasant.  He slept through most of the movie, snored quite a bit, then at the intermission, stood up and declared (so everyone could hear him), "well, that was underwhelming."  I wanted to say "how would you know, you snored through most of it!", but didn't.  Thankfully, he left.  But, gosh, that man was seriously cranky and should perhaps stay home from now on.

A wonderful old friend from grad school sent me a note recently, telling me that a friend of his from undergrad would be making his Met debut in Rigoletto, and if a group was put together to see the show, would I be interested?  I thought about it and said, sure!  I've never seen that opera, I know next to nothing about opera, and it would be fun to see it with a gang of pals.  The planning process has taken quite a while, but finally, we were there to witness a Met debut.

photo credit: Richard Termine
I've never seen Rigoletto before, but I've heard some of the music before.  I knew it was one of the grimmer operas out there, with no real redeeming factors for most of the characters.  I was surprised to hear this was a new production taking place in 1960s Las Vegas.  I guess I hadn't heard about it before.  To be honest, I had a hard time with the concept.  To me, it made the inherent ugliness and misogyny palatable and even funny.  To see these lounge lizards just made people laugh, which, for me, negated the sadness and the impact of the opera.  But, I guess that was just me.  It seems to have gotten excellent reviews.

Even though I didn't like the packaging of the opera, I thought it was very well-sung.  Stephen Costello was a terrific Duke, very smooth and devious, with a gorgeous voice.  His "Donna e mobile" was gorgeous, on the surface, until you understood the lyrics to be quite chilling.  And to hear the reprises at the moments they happened were filled with even more dread.  Olga Peretyatko was a fantastic Gilda - her shimmering soprano was both intelligently acted and soaringly sung.  She caught many layers of this young girl who is betrayed by nearly everyone she knows.  I was also taken with Stefan Kocan and Katarina Leoson as the treacherous brother and sister - the quartet they sang with Gilda and her father, Rigoletto, was fantastic.  Actually, musically, the opera was first-rate.  I just couldn't wrap my brain around the Vegas motif and the ring-a-ding-ding libretto coming across the supertitles.  Again, it was probably just me.


My friend's friend made a wonderful debut as one of the Duke's henchmen.  It was fun to see someone I knew onstage and he had a couple of terrific moments.  Plus, during the curtain call, his fellow henchmen made a big deal over him so the audience would know to salute his debut.  It was lovely.  The whole evening was terrific, actually.  Before the performance, our big group had a nice dinner at the Met's restaurant, the Grand Tier.  Yes, I am normally wary about eating before I see a performance, so I did try to eat pretty sparingly, and I was happy to have an aisle seat for the second and third acts (I sat in a broken seat for the first act, which was a bit annoying).  Anyway, I had a delicious appetizer of pumpkin soup, topped with an incredible gruyere foam.  Yummy.  For my main course, I got the roasted chicken, mainly because I wanted to have the leek and mushroom bread pudding on the side.  And boy, did the bread pudding live up to my expectations!  It was spectacular!  As was the chicken, which was moist and tasty, served with a chicken jus gravy and a squash puree along the side.  But this dish was enormous, so I couldn't finish it.  Ah well.  After the first intermission, we hurried back down to the restaurant for our dessert (as you can see from my photo at left, we were pretty high up).  It was preset for us, which was nice since we only had about 20 minutes or so.  I got the cappuccino gateau, with a chocolate cake bottom and silky mocha-y mousse on top.  It also had a crunchy cocoa nib thing going on.  This was a pretty yummy dessert and provided a little sugar pick-me-up for the rest of the opera.


Afterwards, we were lucky enough to go to the Met's green room to toast my friend's friend.  That was also very exciting and it was nice to feel the love throughout such a big group of people.  It was a once-in-a-lifetime evening, I think, and it definitely exceeded my expectations of how exciting it would be.  I'm terrifically glad of that.  I have more eclectic things coming up, so I'm hoping to have more exciting experiences in the near future.  Here's hoping!

Thursday, October 15, 2015

Thoughts on - First Daughter Suite

Hey, everybody!  Boy, has it been awhile between posts!  I'm currently experiencing a particularly cash poor time of year.  I do have a few random things coming up and I'm hoping to pick up a few shows in the near future.  Or not.  We'll just have to see.  Fingers crossed I can get to blogging on a more regular basis soon.

Last night, I went to a preview of Michael John LaChiusa's new musical First Daughter Suite.  You may remember that I'm a big fan of Michael John's.  I find his musical reach and imagination so thrilling.  His body of work is so varied and intriguing, in my opinion.  And the fact that he writes such compelling female characters is just a bonus.  Strong, vigorous, interesting women feature prominently in most of his musicals and First Daughter Suite is no exception.

First Daughter Suite is a companion piece, of sorts, to his early musical First Lady Suite.  I've never seen that one staged, though I do have the cast album and have enjoyed listening to it over the years.  Imagining the lives of women we don't really know all that well, at least for themselves and not through their President husband/father, is so interesting on its face and what Michael John has come up with is simply terrific.  They're still working on the show, and it doesn't open for another week, so I'll only offer a few thoughts.

The evening is made up of four vignettes, each taking place during a different Presidential era - we meet the Nixon women on the day of Tricia's wedding; we see Amy Carter have a dream about becoming friends with Susan Ford; we witness a tense conversation between Patti Davis and Nancy Reagan; and we end with Barbara Bush on a particularly poignant day of her life.  Other characters are included, both famous and not, and how their lives are imagined is quite wonderful.  It was really interesting to me how Michael John used the public's pre-conceived notions about these women in, yet behind, the limelight and made them very real and idiosyncratic.

The music is seriously gorgeous, lush and varied, with the sounds of the eras used to highlight time and place.  Each of the nine women in the cast are given their moments to shine, both with their singing and their acting.  I was continually awestruck at how wonderful it was to see and hear all that fantastic talent of women of a certain age.  They were given a power and a mystique and were both real and fantasy at the same time. 

photo credit: Joan Marcus
Everyone in the cast was amazing, but of course, my favorite had to be Mary Testa as Barbara Bush.  Mary Testa is just a force of nature and put her in a piece where she plays a force of nature - watch out.  She was really heartbreaking, and a ballbreaker, at the same time, just as I've imagined the real Barbara Bush to be.  The piece featuring Bush was my favorite, it was so poignant and moving, yet also quite funny.  Though I was also partial to the Nixon gals as bridezillas (and Barbara Walsh is stunning as Pat Nixon).  But going back to Mary Testa/Barbara Bush, I never thought I'd feel sympathy for George W Bush, but I did!  The way Michael John has written these characters - how they comment on the unseen men of the stories - is so revealing.  I know that all of these situations are totally fictional, but they're so grounded in reality that I can completely imagine things happening in just these ways.  And putting that gorgeous music on top of things was the cherry on top.

I won't say any more.  I don't want to give anything away and since they're still working, it doesn't make sense to comment on things that were a little less satisfying to me.  But it was worth the price of admission, in my opinion, to experience Mary Testa and the beautiful fourth vignette.  There was also a terrific talkback afterwards, that shed a lot of light on the piece and on the performers - I'm so glad I stayed.  I can't wait to go back to First Daughter Suite, should finances permit, and I think you all should check it out, too.

Friday, October 2, 2015

Thoughts on - Old Times

I have a college pal with whom I share a love of most of the British actors and actresses working today.  I think it's from watching too much BBC tv in the box office of our school.  So whenever any of them are announced for productions, off we go.  Together, we've seen Ralph Fiennes in Richard II, Alan Rickman in Private Lives, Derek Jacobi in Uncle Vanya, Kristin Scott Thomas in The Seagull, and Kenneth Branagh in Macbeth.  I'm sure there are more, those are just the shows that popped into my head just now.  Therefore, when the ads for Clive Owen in Harold Pinter's Old Times crossed our e-mailboxes, we were in.  We both had a last-minute opening in our schedules last night, so we used a discount code for seats in the last row of the mezzanine.  The show doesn't open until next week, so I'll only offer a few thoughts.

I have to say I'm no expert on Pinter, I've only seen The Homecoming performed live, though I have read several other of his plays.  And I think having only a passing acquaintance with Pinter and his oeuvre didn't help me all that much last night.  I was pretty much confused the entire evening by Old Times, though I was certainly never bored.  Or, rather, I think I know what the play was about, but the production confused me.  I think.

A surreal memory play, Old Times begins with Deeley and Kate, a longtime married couple, awaiting the arrival of Kate's college friend, Anna.  What follows is a cat-and-mouse game of ownership and sexual conquest.  You're never quite sure if what anyone is saying is true, at any given moment, but there is such a charged atmosphere hovering over everything.  You're constantly waiting for something terrible to happen, and it does, but not in the way that you've been fearing.

photo credit: Joan Marcus
Kelly Reilly is fantastic as the enigmatic Kate - you can see why both Anna and Deeley are so fascinated by her and why they want to possess her.  She's so stunning and still; you're just projecting yourself onto every look and smile she gives you.  And when she lets loose at the end, wow.  So powerful.  Eve Best, who I adored in The Homecoming, is equally fine as Anna.  At first, you feel as if she's just showing off, but then you can see how she's trying to get under the skin of Deeley, as if she's trying to show him that she had Kate first.  And the way she wraps all of the stories together is amazing.  You can always see her mind moving, and how she arranges herself for maximum impact.  Loved her.  And Clive Owen was also terrific.  Deeley seems as if it could be a very difficult role - he should be charming, so you can see why Kate has stayed with him, but he should also be menacing during his confrontations with Anna, and also quite weak.  Weakness is often a difficult thing to portray and he does it brilliantly.  They all seem to be playing off each other quite well and are very in tune with the rhythms and silences in Pinter's writing.

I often get inside my head too much during a play that has so much delicious, poetic dialogue, so maybe that prodded my confusions.  But I loved every time Deeley picked out a word from one of Anna's sentences to ridicule her with, and then later on, he would use those same words to throw back in her face.  I was also quite taken with the line (paraphrased) "There are some things one remembers, even though they may never have happened."  That's just so fantastic, right? 

photo credit: Joan Marcus
But I really think my confusion stems from the set design and original music used throughout.  Instead of a room, we're sort of floating in space, on a turntable that ever so slightly revolves throughout.  The backdrop changes from stars to odd stripes, and the flooring has circular diagrams on it that seem to indicate a whirlpool of some sort.  Now, there is dialogue about ripples in water and how the ripples disappear, but to have a literal translation of that on a surreal set seems a bit much to me.  Oh, and there's a huge block of ice.  For me, some of the fun of a surreal play is to see the surreal quality juxtaposed with the naturalistic quality of real life.  So to have this weird set and vaguely ominous music just tipped the scale of the play for me.  There wasn't anything in the play for me to discover necessarily, the set and music (and lights, too, I guess) were doing it for me.  So I think that confused me.  I think.

photo credit: Joan Marcus
All in all, though, I'm glad I saw Old Times and, in fact, I would be game for seeing it again.  Maybe the set doesn't look so strange from the orchestra-level (we were in the last row of the mezzanine, remember).  And since it's only about 80 minutes long, no intermission, it certainly wouldn't be a waste of my time to see those three fine actors speaking those amazing Pinter words, now would it?  And maybe my memory could be toyed with and I wouldn't remember what was true or not if I saw it again.  That would be very Pinteresque, I think.