Too much, too soon?

I don't know what I was thinking, maybe that I am ready for things to be back to normal NOW, but I booked entirely too many events over the last week.  I am exhausted, a bit dizzy, and not entirely sure I experienced everything as fully as I could have.  I guess I know better now...

I'll just briefly report on my comings and goings, since my brain is pretty much out-of-service at this point.  First, I want to mention that I went to a music recital last weekend that I greatly enjoyed, but the main reasons I'm mentioning it is that a) I got to spend quality time with friends I don't see nearly enough, and b) I had a delicious cocktail I'm still thinking of a week later.  It was called an A & W Old Fashioned - ok, I grew up going to the A & W root beer stands in my hometown and I love A & W root beer.  It's delicious and nostalgic, all at the same time.  So OF COURSE I had to order that drink and it was incredible!  If I do a 'best cocktails of 2021' post, it will surely be on top!  The fish tacos were also really good.  That evening was one of my favorites of my entire year.  I also had dinner with other old friends at Patsy's, a longstanding NYC Italian eatery, and it was another grand evening.  The wine we had, a vernaccia di San Gimignano, was tastier than my pumpkin tortelloni, but that's ok.  It's the fun company that counts and I had a blast catching up with my delightful chums.

Wednesday night, I made my first appearance in nearly two years at one of my favorite NY spots, the Signature Theatre.  I bought a membership there this year, since I always enjoy their presentations.  My show that night was Twilight: Los Angeles, 1992 by Anna Deavere Smith.  I'm embarrassed to admit that I haven't seen this piece before, it was on Broadway during my brief years away from NYC in the 90s and I haven't seen the filmed version, either.  This production, instead of Anna Deavere Smith performing, uses an ensemble of five incredible actors portraying dozens of characters.  The text is taken from Smith's interviews of over 350 people after the 1992 Los Angeles riots that came out of the Rodney King beating and verdicts.

I am also embarrassed - no, the right word would be MORTIFIED - to admit that I remember very little about the riots or about the events that led to them.  I was living in Ohio at the time and all I can say is being in Ohio means being out of touch.  But that's still no excuse.  I was shocked, saddened, and appalled by the happenings in Twilight: Los Angeles, 1992, and it is heartbreaking to think that Smith had to do updates and that this piece is even more timely than ever in the aftermath of the George Floyd murder.  There is video that is horrifying, audio that is haunting, and just hearing the actual words of people who were there was most often chilling.  There were some comic pieces, sort of, to break up the heaviness of the topic, but mainly this was an evening that was a call to action and a railing against the continued prevalent racism of police around America.  And of Americans towards other Americans.  

photo credit: Joan Marcus

The cast was simply incredible; there aren't enough words to describe how fully and completely they inhabited each of their characters.  They each played characters of different genders, ethnicities, ages, abilities, everything and they were spellbinding.  I'm sure they listened to the interview tapes repeatedly, but the dialect coach should also be congratulated because the dialect work was fantastic.  It was specific and engaging, rather than stereotypical.  The direction was amazing and the set was terrific, though there were technical difficulties at the beginning that kept us from seeing all of the projections at the beginning of the play and I wasn't sure who was speaking, but that got fixed before the end of the first act.

Seeing Twilight: Los Angeles, 1992 was a sobering and powerful theatrical experience and I'm ever so glad I saw it.  I cried, looked away, and frequently gasped with disbelief.  I've been Googling ever since to fill in my gaps; I can only hope that having someone like Anna Deavere Smith and her documentary-style of theater will be produced everywhere to continue to open people's eyes to the world around them.  Though I guess not enough people's eyes are opened since this piece is sadly more timely than ever...

Thursday, I accepted an invitation from a young writer I know to attend a reading of their latest work.  I'm sad to report that I'm not ready for readings.  It was so hot in the reading room, I felt dizzy and sick, and the seat was so uncomfortable, I began to fear blood clots.  I couldn't stay for the whole reading, which is awful.  I hate leaving things early, but I just couldn't do it.  I can only hope this talented young writer continues to work on the piece, which could be an important one.  Then, Thursday night, I was fortunate to receive a free ticket to Douglas Carter Beane's new play, Fairycakes.  I have to admit I was still feeling a little unwell after the hot reading room experience, but I made it there and had a pretty good time at the show.

photo credit: Matthew Murphy

Fairycakes is a silly piece that's a mishmash of A Midsummer Night's Dream and other well-known fairy tales.  The cast is amazing, the costumes are gorgeous, the songs are cute, and there are lots of laughs.  There are also some groans from jokes that don't land, but the production is done in such high spirits and good humor, it seems mean to quibble.  The audience was pretty on board from the start; in maybe the third scene, there was a set malfunction and two of the performers entertained us off-script until it was fixed, which endeared them into the hearts of the rest of the audience.  So I mainly had fun, though by the time I got home, I was DONE.  My commutes during the week were a little cumbersome, so all of that combined made for a long week.  I had to take a few hours off work Friday morning to get my bearings back.  I now know that I am NOT ready for two-show-days or even two-show-in-a-row weeks.  I need to look at my calendar a little more closely as I buy tickets for the rest of the year - admittedly, I probably baby myself a little too much when it comes to commuting, but if I don't, who will?

Still Trying to Find My Groove

 Hello again!  I'm slowly maybe inching my way back to normalcy - I saw two pieces of art last week!  An Off-Broadway play and a ballet.  I'm still trying to find my blogging inspiration, but maybe one of the things I saw this week has a thought about that...

I believe I've mentioned how much I enjoy Rajiv Joseph's writing.  A LOT.  I've waxed rhapsodic over his plays Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo, Guards at the Taj, and Describe the Night, to name a few.  I just really respond to his writing and his storytelling.  In his new work, Letters of Suresh, he again upended me, maybe even more than usual.  Partly because of the story and partly because of where I am in the world right now, I think.  Maybe.

I've seen quite a bit of Rajiv's work over the years - he came through a young writers' program that my workplace used to sponsor.  One of his early plays, Animals Out of Paper, was a lovely dramedy about people who couldn't connect, people who recognized the genius that they wanted to possess was actually in an unlikely place, people who tried to do the right thing but kept failing.  His characters, then and now, are deeply human and recognizable.  Anyway, one of the characters in that play inspired this new piece.  Letters of Suresh features one of those characters, Suresh, who was a teen origami prodigy who had just lost his mother.  A plot point of Animals Out of Paper dealt with Suresh going with his origami mentor to a conference in Nagasaki.  This new play takes that plot point and expands on it.  

At the top of Letters of Suresh, we meet Melody, who is writing a letter.  We learn that she is the great-niece of a priest who has just passed away in Japan.  She has been going through his letters and found a collection of letters from Suresh, whom her great-uncle met in Nagasaki.  So that encounter in Nagasaki not only affected Suresh and his origami mentor's life (from the earlier play), but now we see how Father Hashimoto's life was affected as well.  And how these letters affect Melody, too.

photo credit: Joan Marcus

The play consists of four characters - Suresh, Melody, Father Hashimoto, and a fourth characters introduced late in the play - reading from their letters.  To some people, this may be static, but to me it was quite moving.  Characters make mention of how letter-writing is a lost art, and how you can find yourself in the art of writing, so there is character development, shocking and surprising plot twists, and great feeling in these letters and the performances.  I identified in some way with all four characters, though sort of felt punched in the stomach by one of them during one of their soul-searching letters.  I felt so seen, by someone who doesn't know me all that well and clearly wasn't writing about me, but it was still a bit of a shock.  And I thought maybe this character held a key to why I'm finding it hard to write right now myself.  I don't know.  But even if you aren't finding yourself in one of the characters (and ruminating on why that therapist you're trying to see isn't getting back to you), you'll still love this play, I think.  It digs into needing a connection, lacking a connection, finding the wrong connection, how we're all looking for our place in the universe and how we're all connected to something bigger than ourselves.  Letters of Suresh is a gorgeously moving play, full of gorgeous ideas and words (not to mention a gorgeous projection set and gorgeous acting).  I'm sorry I didn't see it earlier in the run so that I could see it more than once.  And convince more people to go.  I'll be thinking about this one for a long time.

In other news, I finally got back to the ballet after almost two years.  I can hardly believe it's been that long since I've seen live ballet.  I did watch a lot of the streaming ballet out of New York City Ballet and ABT, but it's just not the same.  It's good, don't get me wrong, and I'm so glad it was there.  But being in the room and sharing space with dancers can't be replicated (in my opinion).  Plus, it's even so much more fun to watch ballet with my darling IHBB (Impossibly Handsome Ballet Buddy, for anyone who's new here).  

ABT's fall season is extremely varied, but in my attempt to limit being in crowded spaces, I only got us tickets to Giselle.  It's one of my very favorites (you can remind yourself of past visits HERE and HERE; there are a lot more blog posts about Giselle, but I especially liked those two).  One of the reasons we picked our particular performance was because it featured two of our favorites in parts we hadn't seen them dance before: the sparkling Skylar Brandt as Giselle and the dashing Herman Cornejo as Albrecht.  It was a beautiful performance - Skylar has really stretched and grown since she was promoted to Principal dancer at ABT, her acting has improved exponentially.  She's always had glorious technique, but adding the dramatic skills to her toolkit has only made her that much better.  Interestingly, she opened my eyes to how technique and perfect execution of steps can make the story even more dramatic!  I always thought it was the acting skill alone, but truly, when you can perfectly execute the choreography, perfectly in time with the music, perfectly in sync with your partner, it is exhilarating to watch.  There were sequences and lifts that I have seen countless times before that had new meaning because Skylar and Herman were so thrilling together.  Herman is, of course, the perfect partner and more virile and charming than any person has the right to be.

photo credit: Joao Menegussi

There were a couple of new-to-me dancers that I was also very impressed with, most especially Adrii Ishchuk, who was a really terrific Hilarion - his dance-to-his-death solo was fantastic.  I also thought the corps de ballet/Wilis were amazing; in perfect unison and otherworldly.  I noticed some different character choices, which I enjoyed, and a more diverse ensemble, which I enjoyed even more.  I long for the world to return to normal so that I can get out and lose myself in beauty, especially ballet, again and again, without the fear that crowds still give me.  I have another few shows coming up, so hopefully I will learn to relax, enjoy, and find my creative brain working again.  The groove is out there, I hope.  The connection I need, I hope, is out there.  I just need to find my way there...

Trying to Get Back in the Groove

Hello, friends.  As theater tries to get back to normal, so do I.  But it's hard.  After spending eighteen months either alone or with tiny groups of family, the experience of being in crowds, masked or no, is hard to get re-used to.  I find myself uncomfortable in crowds, suspicious of everyone, and afraid of having some sort of spontaneous health crisis.  I had intended to ease into my return to theater-going, having purchased one ticket per month, starting in August.  My first indoor production was supposed to be Antoinette Chinonye Nwandu's Pass Over, but circumstances kept me from seeing it in September.  I guess I can talk about those circumstances later.  That is, if I can get my brain to work - I'm having so much trouble coming up with interesting things to say, so there's more of a groove than watching theater to re-enter, I guess...

My October show was Sanctuary City, written by the incredible Martyna Majok, Pulitzer Prize-winner for Cost of Living.  To be honest, this is actually the second time I've seen Sanctuary City.  The day after NY theater shut down, I was very fortunate to receive an invite to watch the show as it was being filmed for archival purposes.  That day, the Lucille Lortel was socially distancing audience members, so it felt safe to me (though we weren't masked, this was early in the pandemic).  I loved seeing the show that day (Martyna's plays are always BRILLIANT) and I loved the feeling of solidarity, that the entire theater community was in this together, and we would all be back in a few weeks, better than ever.

Eighteen months later, going back to the Lucille Lortel was a totally different experience.  Everyone was cheerful, sure, the lines moved quickly, but I didn't feel the same sense of community and excitement.  I guess it's me, but I haven't felt the joyful anticipation as the lights go down yet.  This is totally on me.  I was glad the house was full, yet it made me nervous, too.  I didn't like having someone seemingly sitting right on top of me.  I had purposefully chosen the back row, on the aisle, for my comfort.  I guess I assumed there wouldn't be anyone next to me.  That's on me, too.

Thankfully, once the fabulous show began, I could relax a little and concentrate on the story unfolding.  Though, of course, because I'm me, I did begin to worry about the many light changes in the show - I've developed a rather irrational fear that vertigo will be triggered by anything anytime.  The lights began to worry me, but I just began to either close my eyes or avert them and was fine.  I seriously worry for no reason.

photo credit: Sara Krulwich

Anyway, about the wonderful play:  Sanctuary City is a unsparing look at teens who are living inside the undocumented immigrant experience.  Martyna has such a unique gift of building character through fantastic dialogue.  With few words, we know her characters, intimately.  And then we want more of their words.  We meet B and G in various scenes throughout their teens, sometimes short bursts of little dialogue (or no dialogue) and sometimes in little scenes.  Sometimes the scenes replay with a word changed or a different body position.  We learn so much from hearing so little.  Once one character goes off to college, things shift and then the play ends with one long continuous postscript-type scene.

I thought this structure was brilliant - it was a memory play and not, all at the same time.  You know when you remember things, you remember bits and pieces, and each time, a little more gets filled in and maybe some of the bits and pieces change?  That's exactly what Sanctuary City is like.  It's real and unreal, at the same time.  Which I'm sure is like the immigrant experience in America.  That's the voice that Martyna writes about so beautifully.  She actually writes beautifully about many marginalized voices, which is one of many reasons you should see everything she writes. Sanctuary City is a thrillingly moving play about an important topic; it's beautifully directed and the acting is off-the-charts incredible.  Please, everyone, go see this play.

I have another show coming up in a couple of weeks, by one of my very favorite playwrights, but last Sunday, I had the overwhelming feeling that if I didn't go to see Pass Over's final performance, I would never forgive myself.  I have seen a couple of other iterations of the play, and I had already bought tickets (money shows support too, right?) but how could I miss Antoinette Nwandu's Broadway debut?  I've worked with her before and have known her for years.  I couldn't miss it.  After looking at the seating chart on the ticketing app, I saw I could buy a ticket in an otherwise-empty row.  That convinced me to go.  In my opening paragraph above, there's a link to my thoughts on the LCT3 2018 production of the play.  It speaks to the plot pretty well, I have to admit.  But Antoinette has made more changes to the play since then, which makes total sense to me.  The ending of the play before spoke to the futility of trying to reason with police on behalf of young Black men's lives.  This time, there's more...I don't want to say 'hope' exactly, but more nuance and opportunity for change and transcendence.  And not.  

photo credit: Joan Marcus

As strongly as I felt about the play before (which was REALLY strongly, I was tremendously moved and thrilled by the play before), I felt even more strongly this time.  I feel Antoinette, and the entire production team, has really leaned into the absurdist and expressionistic aspects of the play to provide audiences with a totally new and completely unique theatrical experience that's just as moving as anything that's more realistic.  The three performers, who have been with the play for years, have honed their performances to brilliant sheen, and they're even more touching, even more funny, even more insidious, even more terrifying than before.  I laughed a lot, I cried a lot, and I was terrified.  A lot.  All in the best theatrical way, of course.  I'm so glad I fought through my weekend laziness and got myself to the August Wilson Theatre for Pass Over.  I cannot wait to experience what Antoinette brings us next.

I think I'll save my family stuff for another post.  Maybe.  I do want to mention that I was fortunate enough to attend the great and wonderful Micki Grant's memorial service last night.  It was a beautiful send-off for a beautiful, amazing, talented, generous mentor and friend.  I'm so grateful that my work organization celebrated her with our Lifetime Achievement Award a few years ago, to show her how much writers everywhere honor her.  And I'm even more grateful that I had the chance to see her seminal musical Don't Bother Me, I Can't Cope not once, but twice.  I now put it into the universe that Broadway needs to see this work again - I practically levitated with joy as I watched it, yet starkly felt the toughness and unrest underneath.  The time is now for Micki's genius, her empathy, and her activism.  I will miss her always, but thankfully, her gorgeous work will stand the test of time.