Four Horsepeople of the Theater Apocalypse

OK, I admit it, I was just looking for a provocative title to this mash-up post.  There is no apocalypse, no bustiers, and no flaming disasters discussed in this post.  Forgive me if you feel that you arrived here under false pretenses.  It's just that I've recently seen four pieces of theater, all with intriguing on-stage and back stories.  I've enjoyed all of them, some more than others, of course.  But I just wanted to make brief mention of them all, since they're stories of people you don't ordinarily see depicted on a lot of mainstages, even today, and that kind of thing is always worth talking about.

photo credit: Matthew Murphy

First up is The Wrong Man, a new musical at MCC.  I really enjoy seeing shows at MCC's new space - everyone on staff is delightful, the space is airy and large, and the productions are very well-produced.  The Wrong Man tells the story of Duran, a seemingly ordinary guy who is framed for two murders and gets sentenced to death.  That plot point is sort of laid out in the first song, so it's not really a spoiler.  Duran is played by Joshua Henry, who is one of my absolute favorites.  He sings like a dream, is a committed, honest actor and immediately garners our sympathy.  Everyone in the cast is good, to tell the truth, but the production around them is a little more middling.  I wish I had liked the music more than I did, though there were two songs that stood out for me.  I thought the production was perhaps over-directed and over-choreographed, though two of the dance sequences were very evocative and successful on their own terms.  I often wished they would just be still and tell the story, but maybe that was just me.  I liked some of The Wrong Man, and would definitely catch another production from this team, but I didn't find this particular piece entirely successful.

photo credit: Russ Rowland

I recently saw the New York premiere of Idris Goodwin's Bars and Measures at Urban Stages.  I saw an early play of Goodwin's at Humana a number of years ago and greatly enjoyed it, so I was grateful to receive a free ticket to check out this new piece.  Loosely based on a true story, Bars and Measures tells the story of two brothers who are also musicians - one is a classical musician, trying to get a job with an illustrious music program.  The other is a jazz musician of renown, who is in prison awaiting trial.  The brothers are simpatico in their love of music and seeing the world through music, but they are diametrically opposed in their view of the world and religion.  Eric, the younger brother and classical musician, is a Christian.  Bilal, the older brother in prison, is a Muslim.  How radicalized he has become is a plot point that we see play out both in flashback and in the 'now' of the play.  Goodwin has a real gift for dialogue and characterization - you could feel the pendulum going back and forth with whoever had the power and the truth behind them at any moment.  I felt for these brothers and understood the conflict of loving your sibling and finding their belief system untenable.  I found a lot to think about and dig into during Bars and Measures and I think it's well worth your time.  I look forward to seeing more work by Idris Goodwin.

photo credit: Jeremy Daniel

Next is Power Strip, by Sylvia Khoury, playing at LCT3 (the Off-Broadway space above the Vivian Beaumont Theatre at Lincoln Center).  I know Sylvia a bit and have enjoyed her work before (you can check out some thoughts I had on one of her other plays, Against the Hillside, here), so you may take whatever I say with a grain of salt.  Power Strip is a smart and deeply moving play about Syrian refugees at a camp in Greece.  But it's also about so much more than that.  It's about women having agency over their bodies, and dismantling the patriarchy, and discovering your own worth; it's about the cumulative impact of violence on our society and the thought that we can change our situation but can we change our values.  The production is beautifully directed and designed, and the acting is fantastic; Sylvia has created four characters of depth, truth, and determination.  And a lot of regret.  Her dialogue is fantastic, both in what the characters are saying, not saying, and what they actually mean.  I thought the play was going to take me one place and it led me somewhere totally unexpected, which I love.  I was moved and intrigued by Power Strip and I highly recommend you see it.  You can see more of Sylvia's work in 2020 at Playwrights Horizons (Selling Kabul, in March) - I will be there for sure.

photo credit: Sara Krulwich

This afternoon, I was treated to an unexpected Tony ticket to see Slave Play.  You may remember that I saw Slave Play downtown earlier this year - you can read my review of that production HERE.  My feelings after the performance today were similar to my feelings after the performance in January - there's a lot to unpack and sort through and I feel as if maybe I'm not the person to do it.  I will say that I greatly enjoyed seeing how Jeremy O Harris constructed that first scene, leading into the second and third scenes (knowing about the 'twist' coming let me concentrate on how he put things together).  That was really intriguing to me and just re-emphasized what a smart writer Harris is.  I do think the play is being played a little more broadly now (for a bigger theater? Maybe.), and I think the first scene has more 'clues' that all is not what it seems than I remember seeing before.  I was moved this time by one of the couples, but probably not the one I was supposed to be moved by.  I think the last scene made a little more sense to me this time, but I still felt an intellectual distance from it, which is probably on me.  I had a friend ask me about Slave Play the other day and I tried to describe to her why it's hard for me to talk about it - this is a TERRIBLE ANALOGY, I know, but I compared the experience of my seeing it to the experience of the film Love, Actually.  I have a lot of friends who find that movie romantic and fun, while I find it profoundly diminishing, deeply misogynistic, and depressing.  So women of color who find Slave Play offensive are experiencing it with a different perspective than I am, even more strongly than any play can give any audience member a different experience.  Sigh.  I'm explaining myself badly and I sure do talk about Slave Play a lot for someone who says they shouldn't be talking about it.  I say decide for yourself - if you want to see a play that is provocative and demands a lot from you, see Slave Play.  Even if you don't enjoy it, you'll probably never experience anything like it again.  How often can you say that?

Two Nights with ABT/Fall Season

I'm very grateful I got to spend two nights in the company of my favorite ballet company recently.  I went with my dear IHBB to the program ABT dubbed The Masters, and then I went back with a chum from grad school to Herman Cornejo's 20th anniversary celebration.  Both nights were lovely.

The evening called The Masters featured pieces by the amazing George Balanchine, the amazing Twyla Tharp, and the amazing Alexei Ratmansky.  All signs pointed to an enjoyable night, which it was.  Before the program started, ABT's artistic director came out to welcome everyone and to acknowledge the death of prima ballerina Alicia Alonso, who originated the lead female role in "Theme and Variations," coincidentally the first piece of the night.  I'm thinking this introduction and reminder of Alonso's genius, may have put more undue pressure on the dancers, especially our lead pair, gorgeous dancers who are prone to nerves, Sarah Lane and Joseph Gorak.  They move beautifully, but they also seemed to move very cautiously and carefully throughout.  I would've liked to see some more verve - even though the piece is considered to be in the classical tradition of 19th century Russian style, there still needs to be energy and style throughout.  I just thought everyone was too staid and polite throughout.  The tempi seemed a little slow to me as well. Gorak also had some partnering problems again, which is maddening by now.  He couldn't even get Lane completely onto his shoulder at the end of the ballet, though she smiled and put her head fondly on the top of his head.  I don't know what it will take to help him get stronger, but it needs to happen if they're going to cast him in ballets where he has to lift his partner.  The ensemble behind were quite good, so it was a perfectly pleasant, though not very exciting, start to the program.

photo credit: Rosalie O'Connor

Next up with the new Twyla Tharp piece, "A Gathering of Ghosts," which she choreographed with Herman Cornejo in mind.  It's a quirky, fascinating piece, with crazy costumes designed by Norma Kamali, and all the verve and sparkle I had been looking for in the previous piece.  There's a twinkle in everyone's eyes and it seemed as if the company truly enjoyed performing the piece.  It's set to a Brahms' string quartet with four movements - Cornejo is the 'host' and dances with ghosts of famous people and 'consorts,' seemingly women he has rejected in the past.  There are terrific solos, pas de deux, and group numbers.  Blaine Hoven and Calvin Royal were real standouts for me - they both danced with charm and wit and were very secure in their partnering.  Cornejo had some solos to die for, wore a form-fitting bolero-sort-of outfit, and ended in a huge cape reminiscent of Liberace or a prizefighter.  It was fun, over the top, kind of confusing, and totally delightful.  My IHBB and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

Last up was Ratmansky's newest piece "The Seasons," which I saw in the spring season (you can remind yourself of my thoughts HERE).  It's just lovely, with wonderful stage pictures, movement, musicality, and chances for each dancer to shine.  I especially enjoyed, again, the Winter movement, though James Whiteside and Isabella Boylston were delightful in their big pas de deux as Zephyr and the Spirit of the Corn.  I also very taken with Calvin Royal and Cassandra Trenery's dancing as Bacchus and Bacchante.  Everyone was at their best and I was happy to see the piece again.  It was a nice ending to the evening.  My IHBB went out afterwards to Cafe Luxembourg, which is a delightful spot.  I had a delicious glass of cote du rhone and a lobster roll.  I felt so extravagant.  Plus, I got an unexpected glimpse of one of my very favorite stage performers, so it was bonus bonus!  Spending time at the ballet with my dear wonderful IHBB is always grand.

A chum from grad school wanted to thank me for a favor I recently did, so she took me to the celebration of Herman Cornejo's 20th anniversary with ABT.  I adore him, obviously; his dancing is sublime, his acting is always first-rate, and he has an open, generous nature on stage.  He makes everyone he dances with better, it seems to me.  So I was delighted to share in the celebration.

photo credit: Erin Baiano

First up was Herman's NY debut in Balanchine's "Apollo."  I've only seen "Apollo" a few times over the years, and not for a long time, so I was thrilled to see Herman tackle it.  I thought he performed it beautifully - he has such a gorgeous stillness.  He can do all of the exciting leaps and spins, but yet is wonderfully grounded and connected.  All of his intentions were crystal-clear, and he moved throughout space with vigor and dynamism.  I thought he was marvelous.  He also had wonderful chemistry with his muses, Misty Copeland, Skylar Brandt, and Cassandra Trenary.  They all moved together very well, the difficult partnering was done securely yet freely.  I can't believe this ballet was first done in 1928, it seems so modern and avant-garde, even now.  I wish I could've seen Calvin Royal perform Apollo as well (I've been enjoying watching a little clip he put on Instagram), but I'm so happy Herman got to share his passion for the piece with a NY audience.

photo credit: Kyle Froman

Next up was a short film about Herman, where he narrated clips of his extraordinary leaps and spins.  It was a sweet little interlude that led into the second piece, "El Chamuyo," which is the first thing Herman danced in NY that got him into ABT.  He danced it with his sister, Erica Cornejo, and good heavens, it was thrilling.  It only lasted a few minutes, but seeing authentic Argentine tango, interspersed with thrilling ballet, was incredible.  I was telling my chum afterwards that I don't know how I lived my life before seeing Herman dance that tango.  There is life before and now life after.  It had bravado, panache, humor, and delight.  It was glorious.  I am ever so thankful I got to be in the room for it.  The audience went bananas for it.

a terrible photo from my phone

The last piece was a repeat of the new Tharp piece, "A Gathering of Ghosts."  I enjoyed it even more the second time - I noticed even more detail and intricacy throughout, and it seemed that Herman interacted with the rest of the cast even more delightfully than the week before.  Everyone was at their heightened best and just charmed.  I loved it - it will be interesting to see what ABT does with this piece moving forward; to be honest, I can't see another dancer in the role Herman played.  He is so unique in his charisma, command, and skill with jumps and spins, I can't see another dancer doing it with the same panache.  I hope to be proved wrong, because I would hate to see the piece disappear.

The curtain call had thunderous applause, of course, and the company kept trying to get him to come forward and take bows alone, but he kept wanting the company to come up front with him.  Finally, he walked over to the side of the stage and Twyla Tharp came running out and leaped into his arms - it was adorable!  They took some bows together, then he came out in front of the giant curtain to acknowledge the crowd alone.  When the curtain went back up, many other members of ABT were onstage and they started throwing flowers at Herman.  It was quite lovely and seemed to move him deeply.  The applause probably lasted fifteen or twenty minutes; it was so nice that everyone in the audience wanted to show their appreciation for Herman's unique contribution to ABT.  I've loved watching him over the years and he seems to be only getting better every season.  I look forward to more amazing dance moments to come.   

A Fabulous Realization (a post about books!)

I was recently challenged by a friend to list seven books I love, with no review or commentary, just to share.  As I've been a reader my whole life, it was hard to narrow down my choices.  But I finally did, after a lot of consideration (and, surprisingly, sleepless nights).  The seven I came up with were (listed in sort of chronological order of when I read them):

• A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
• The Witch of Blackbird Pond
• Jane Eyre
• The Awakening
• Persuasion
• The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter
• Hunger

You might notice something about those seven titles.  The reason I chose them, I thought, was because I re-read them on a regular basis, they shaped my life in some way, and I randomly think of passages as I go about my life, even today.  In using that basic criteria, here are some of the other titles I considered (in no particular order):

• the Little House series
• Little Women
• From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler
• Harriet the Spy
• The Borrowers
• Pride and Prejudice
• Gone with the Wind
• Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret
• Anne of Green Gables
• Helen Keller's The Story of My Life
• The Secret Garden
• The Little Princess
• the Nancy Drew series
• the Trixie Belden series
• Heidi
• Black Beauty
• The Age of Innocence
• Ramona the Pest
• The House of the Spirits
• the Phyllis A. Whitney series of 'juvenile mysteries'
• The Bell Jar
• Ramona
• Misty of Chincoteague
• Pippi Longstocking
• Caddie Woodlawn
• Julie of the Wolves
• Wuthering Heights
• Captains and the Kings
• A Room of One's Own
• The Joy Luck Club
• All the Lives We Never Lived
• Bad Feminist
• and about a million more

I always loved the illustrations in this edition

Notice anything yet?  Yes, most of the books I truly love and that have affected me throughout my life were written by women.  I don't think I even noticed it myself until I started tinkering with the lists.  And, diving even more into my reading history, I can remember women steering me through my reading life.  My mom taught me to read when I was quite young, and books have always been my refuge. In my elementary school, in a small farming community in Ohio, there was somehow a section devoted to biographies about famous women.  As I devoured these stories about Helen Keller, Clara Barton, Elizabeth Blackwell, Amelia Earhart, and others, our librarian (I wish I could remember her name - I can see her face, though!) very kindly kept ordering the newest books in the series.  She would also give me a heads up about when the next Scholastic Book Fair would be coming to our library (remember them?  happiest day of the school year!), so that I could save my money to buy as many books as possible - growing up, my parents never had much money, but they could almost always find an extra $5 for me to buy books.  Sometimes they were classics, sometimes they were silly, but most of the books I bought have stayed with me throughout my life.  I was thinking about a silly teen romance the other day, trying to remember the name, because I remembered a scene where a shy girl flirted with a popular boy.  The way my brain works is generally not a mystery.

We had a library in my hometown, too, and like Francie in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, my goal was to read all the books.  I didn't do it alphabetically, I sort of started in the back of the library, in the children's section, and moved my way forward.  Our library lady was a lovely person and encouraged me to try more and more advanced reads.  I was maybe ten or eleven and I wanted to check out Gone With the Wind and Love Story (not exactly brain surgery, and one is written by a male, but still).  The substitute librarian, who was, you guessed it, not a woman, told me I could not check out those books, they were too advanced for me.  I walked out of the library, dejected, and told my mom (who was waiting in the car) what the man said.  She parked the car, marched into the library, and told that gent that her daughter was allowed to read whatever she wanted.  My mom was, and is, my hero.  

Of course there are books by men that delight me - I remember being so excited at getting the Bicentennial Series by John Jakes, and, hello, Shakespeare.  Roger Ebert's Life Itself is transformative (and on my nightstand to read again imminently).  Dickens, Fitzgerald,  Steinbeck, James, Forster, Krakauer - all get re-reads.  I'm trying to correct neglecting so many writers of color in my youth and am playing catch-up (I should've been reading Thrity Umrigar for years).  But the books I pick up over and over again, the ones where I can see myself, where I can learn something about myself, where I learned to love travel and language and ideas, where I find comfort, are the books by women.  I can't believe it's taken me so long to notice - I'm glad I finally did.  There are a lot of wonderful women writers out there for me to discover...

Preview Thoughts on The Rose Tattoo

I'm very grateful to have gotten a free ticket to see Roundabout's revival of Tennessee Williams' The Rose Tattoo.  I barely know the play (I'm embarrassed to admit) and I like Marisa Tomei, and I was afraid I might miss the show due to budgetary constraints.  Last week was the happy occasion, though I don't think I got as much out of the play as I expected...

For back story, I didn't have lunch and I didn't have dinner before seeing the show.  I went to a work event beforehand, then went with a beautiful work chum for a quick drink and bite before curtain.  I had a delicious cactus pear margarita and got totally SMASHED.  Gosh, I was so drunk, on one cocktail, that even the appetizer of prosciutto and melon didn't absorb all of the tequila.  I walked a bit haphazardly, got to the theater, sat down, sat back and thought...uh, can I even stay awake?!?!  What follows are my strange and ridiculous memories/impressions of the show.  This post will likely be pretty brief.

previously mentioned HUGE COCKTAIL

Throughout, I kept thinking, I AM SO DRUNK HOW DID THAT HAPPEN, and then I smelled pot (my seat was on the far right side of the house, so 43rd Street was not very far away) and I thought, OH MY GOD NOW I'M DRUNK AND HIGH I HATE THAT SMELL.

That sort of sums up my evening. I was too drunk and/or high to really register what was going on on stage. Marisa Tomei is playing a woman from Sicily and she frequently spoke Italian, which was beyond me at that moment.  My eight percent fluency in Italian (according to the Duolingo app from three years ago) vanished and I had no idea what anyone was saying.  I kept thinking one of the words she was using was a curse word, but, no, it was a character's name.  I did understand every time someone yelled about the strega (witch, in Italian), but they also kept yelling about a goat and I thought OH MY GOD THERE'S A GOAT UP THERE? (when I'm drunk, apparently I think in all caps).  I'm still not sure about the goat - I think it was a child running around as a goat?  Not sure.  The set projections were lovely, though the pink flamingos totally confused me (WHY ARE THERE FLAMINGOS? WERE THEY WITH THE GOAT?!) and I didn't understand the door situation - were they walking outside, into the parlor, where were they??; but during the night scenes, the waves looked extremely real to me.

Even in my drunken state, I was rather taken aback at the full-on comedy that was going on.  I sort of knew this play was more comic than most others by Williams, but there are parts that have been directed to be almost zany, which is ok, I guess.  Marisa Tomei has delightful comic timing, as does Emun Elliott, who plays her love interest.  Their scenes were very fun, and very filled with meaning, but I feel that my altered consciousness couldn't really handle the juxtapositions between the comedic and the Greek/tragic aspects (as depicted by the singing chorus of women in black who wandered the stage throughout, and the rather unhinged dance that Serafina does at the end of the first act).  That's on me, and my cocktail, but I was rather discombobulated throughout.  I suppose I should go back to see The Rose Tattoo again, to really take in the play everyone intended, instead of the crazy tequila/pot fever dream that I experienced.  The lesson I take from this should probably be to not go so long between cocktails...

Preview Thoughts on The Great Society and Scotland, PA

I'm seriously considering taking a long hiatus from blogging - my brain just isn't firing on all synapses at the moment.  Maybe I'm experiencing anxiety for some reason (I had two really weird dreams the other night that seem to indicate anxiety, but I don't know what I'm anxious about!).  Or maybe it's because I'm teaching a class this semester; my compartmentalizing can only go so far.  Between working and teaching and my apartment building repairs (they are making it hard for me to sleep, which I guess could lead to weird dreams [maybe I should do a post on those weirdo dreams because...super weird]), I'm basically a walking-and-sometimes-talking piece of swiss cheese.  I've got a few shows coming up, so let's see if my brain wakes up.  If not, I may just disappear for a while and return with a flourish some time soon.  Maybe in the new year.  Let's just see what happens...

Anyway, I was very fortunate to receive tickets to two shows recently (I have another show coming up soon and then ballet in a couple of weeks; I will put out some good vibes for inspiration), both of which were in previews when I saw them, so I'll only offer a few thoughts.  They were pretty much at the opposite ends of the theatrical spectrum, though both handsomely produced by major theater companies.  One was a serious piece on history and the other a dark, funny, spoof-like musical.  Though they both had to deal with ambition, in a way.  If I wanted to pair them, maybe that could be my way in.  Hmmm.

I was fortunate to attend the Sunday matinee of The Great Society, produced at Lincoln Center (though I don't think it's a Lincoln Center production, now that I consider it).  It's a sequel to the successful All the Way, which I'm embarrassed to admit I didn't see.  It was a hot ticket!  Both plays deal with the administration of Lyndon B. Johnson and his rise and fall as a leader and statesman.  The Great Society starts right after Johnson's re-election and ends with his deciding not to run again and a meeting with Nixon in the Oval Office.  This was a particularly busy time in American history, with the Voting Rights Act, the Vietnam War, the creation of Medicare - Johnson was consumed with passing many domestic bills designed to assist Americans living in poverty, and giving more people access to a good education.  So there was a LOT of American history to cover in a three-hour play, starring nineteen actors playing over 50 characters.  Whew.  Though I must say the time flew by...

photo credit: Evan Zimmerman

I thought the first act of The Great Society was rather thrilling, with delicious dialogue and smartly-constructed scenes showing how LBJ (played with a little too much bluster by Brian Cox) used different tactics to get what he wanted out of different people.  The first act ends with the passage of the Voting Rights Act, opposite the riots in Watts, so it was a cliffhanger of sorts.  I thought the second act, with everything that had been built sort of falling apart, was less successful for me, but I find that to be a problem with a lot of second acts - once you build to getting what the lead character wants, how do you show the aftermath?  Anyway, I've probably already said too much.  If you've been reading my blog for the last year or so, you can probably guess I was also a little uncomfortable seeing another white savior (ish) story told from a white male point of view, no matter how humanely and respectfully told.  I found myself wishing I could see the same story told by a writer of color.  But that's just me, of course.  I am horrifyingly ignorant in history (history and geography are how to beat me in Trivial Pursuit), so I am so grateful I got to see The Great Society and learn some important facts about our history, told by someone who obviously took great pains to do the research needed to make this piece.  I was especially taken with how some of the struggles then parallel some of the horrors we're living with now, so if you're a fan of real-life stories, you'll definitely enjoy this play.  It's handsomely produced, terrifically directed, and wonderfully acted by a lot of fantastic NY stage actors (Grantham Coleman was wonderful as Martin Luther King, Jr; I admit I wish Richard Thomas had had more to do).  Theater that makes you think about who you are as an American is always a welcome thing.

photo credit: Nina Goodheart

Last night, I saw a new musical at Roundabout's Off-Broadway space, Scotland, PA.  It's based on a 2001 movie, which I didn't see.  It's on my watch-list now, though!  I mean, how did I not know it was a retelling of Macbeth?!  You know that one of my bucket list goals is to see every version of Macbeth ever, right?!  So...I can't believe I missed it.  Moving on.  This new musical has music and lyrics written by a friend of mine, so I guess I'm constitutionally incapable of disliking it.  I enjoyed myself a lot and had a big smile on my face the entire night.  I thought the songs were fun and evocative of the 70s time period, the book was campy and funny and pretty clever, and the cast was fantastic.  The lead gent, playing Mac, reminded me of a sunny friend I had back in OH, and he had just the right wide-eyed cluelessness that the character needs to be convinced to do all of these terrible deeds, and he played his arc beautifully.  My seat was very close to the action, so I enjoyed seeing the performances up close, but I would really like to go back and experience the show from further back.  Even though the Laura Pels is a small house, I still would like to take in the show as a whole, rather than in pieces, to experience it differently.  But I thought the way the script took Shakespeare's story, kept it a story of thwarted ambition, but also added in the 70s 'me generation' notions and even included a flavor of today's narcissistic millennials, was well done.  The witches were now stoners, the MacDuff character became the detective investigating Duncan's murder, and so on.  There's a fantastic song, that I can see kids doing all over the place, in the second act that took me by surprise.  I had a great time the entire night, except for intermission, when my seat neighbor worked my last nerve.  He was a gent of a certain age, who kept telling me stories of his theater-going youth, and whenever I tried to enter the conversation, he would say, "Not yet, let me finish, then you can talk."  But he never finished.  He kept up the dialogue, starting new sentences with "Now you'll appreciate this..."  Finally, the lights were going down for act two, and he was still talking.  Sigh.  He was definitely an annoyance, but he couldn't dampen my enthusiasm for Scotland, PA.  You should see it before it opens and becomes a big cult classic.  Maybe I should try to talk to those stoners sometime about what my blogging future will be...