I was pumped to go into The Actors Gang Theatre (9070 Venice Blvd - Culver City, CA) and see a really amazing evening of theatre with their current revival of “Carnage: A Comedy.” I felt like the show held promise and with a well respected name like Tim Robbins attached as one of the writers of this 20 year old satire, I knew I was in for the full treatment. I must say though it never quite congealed for me. When I was watching it, the acting was good and everything appeared to be as it should; upon further reflection, I have a few problems.
Perhaps it was the fact that, as Mr. Robbins, the artistic director, says in the liner notes “The play you will see tonight is the same play (which premiered in 1987). Except for one line referencing our current war in the first scene the play is unchanged.” Why would this be a problem? We’re still parsing our syllables over Shakespeare 400 years after the fact. To go back to the liner notes, “(When) we first performed “Carnage: A Comedy…we were a young and impassioned group and the play addressed issues that concerned us at the time. It was a vital and visceral experience…”
Okay. That’s fine. We’ve all had “vital” and “visceral” experiences which have helped to shape who we are today. But, haven’t you changed from those young minds at all? Yes, there are still hucksters telling us lies, trying to blow smoke back in the exhaust, turning water into wine and urine back into water; and yes, the sad but true fact is that statistically there is a sucker born every minute ready to buy what that shyster is selling, but really? Is that all there is?
We’re an educated group that goes to the theatre; what you’re telling us as an audience is that we don’t deserve any more nuance than one sentence from what you’d written twenty years ago when you were in your twenties yourselves! That’s not progress! I’d like to hope that everyone that was in that audience doesn’t still hold the same set of beliefs about people that they did twenty years ago. Yet, when Cotton Slocum gets into the cannon and the lights go black except for the little plastic action figure on a string lit up above the audience head by a spotlight to simulate “distance” I had a sudden realization that felt like Paul Reubens giving me his Big Top Pee Wee impressions of the way of the world. The Gospel According to Pee Wee. Let Us Pray.
More to the point of what your play was trying to say; Jerry Falwell is no longer with us; Pat Robertson is not nearly as relevant as he once was. We’re moving away from this type of thought into a more enlightened moment. With re-hashing of old stories and the airing of old grievances, we’re not moving the discussion forward in any kind of a productive manner.
Not to even get into the army segment of your show! I felt like I was in an Orwellian/Heller nightmare there for half of your play. But we can’t keep talking about the present as though the past were the only viable template. The Wild West, bible thumping, halleluiah that ya’ll were peddling is yesterday; let’s talk about right now. And tomorrow. That is our only course for safety and salvation on this earth.
I can’t go back to that place. I fell out with Pee Wee a long time ago. So, I think, did Reubens!
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
You Say "Anything" - Little Bit of Love
A Sweet Piece of Humanity in a World Turned Asunder
by Jesse Schmitt
Many people who come into The Lillian Theatre (1076 N Lillian Way; Hollywood) to see the world premiere of Tim McNeil’s new play “Anything” may have some preconceptions for what is about to go down. They may think that they’ve heard this one before; the story of a reclusive, grief-stricken widower from the deep, deep south of Mississippi and a thrown out on her ass Hollywood transvestite who is one the brink of self annihilation can only mean one thing; porno.
In fact this premise can be something else entirely as Mr. McNeil and the players from the Elephant Theatre Company pull off quite well. With a little bit of theatrical magic they’ve created a sweet story of an older man looking for companionship and a tranny that is well beyond her years and is also looking for, well, companionship. This is the one piece which works like a charm in this small little story; it goes from being the premise for a smut video and becomes a story about two desperate people who have both hit their rock bottom and as a result are fully clinging to one another with nowhere to go but up.
The show starts us in a classically appointed apartment as our hero, Early Landry is just moving in following the death of his wife of years. Mr. Landry is not familiar with apartment life; in fact he’s not even familiar with this time zone as he’s from the deep south of Mississippi and he’s landed into the heart and heat of Hollywood. There are some things which he does take a storied hand at; for instance banging on the ceiling when his pair of upstairs bong-smoking neighbors are “rocking out” too loud, too long, or too late (ah! how I wish we all had such agreeable neighbors!)
Then there’s Freda. A beautiful and exotic transvestite who is found to be on the losing side of an argument for her boyfriend to stay with her. She’s jealous, he’s had it, and Early is there to peek in on what’s going on in the apartment next door. In typical nosey neighbor fashion he hears the whole disagreement and a bond is struck almost immediately.
Like Thelma & Louise for the apartment set, this is a story of two wildly different people who need to be able to trust in each other to save themselves. In doing so they are able to learn about themselves and save one another. Tender, touching, hilarious, and lovely; you only have a little while longer but if you get the opportunity you should certainly see Anything; a fairy tale love story for the 21st century.
www.plays411.com/anything
www.elephanttheatrecompany.com
www.myspace.com/elephanttheatrecompany
by Jesse Schmitt
Many people who come into The Lillian Theatre (1076 N Lillian Way; Hollywood) to see the world premiere of Tim McNeil’s new play “Anything” may have some preconceptions for what is about to go down. They may think that they’ve heard this one before; the story of a reclusive, grief-stricken widower from the deep, deep south of Mississippi and a thrown out on her ass Hollywood transvestite who is one the brink of self annihilation can only mean one thing; porno.
In fact this premise can be something else entirely as Mr. McNeil and the players from the Elephant Theatre Company pull off quite well. With a little bit of theatrical magic they’ve created a sweet story of an older man looking for companionship and a tranny that is well beyond her years and is also looking for, well, companionship. This is the one piece which works like a charm in this small little story; it goes from being the premise for a smut video and becomes a story about two desperate people who have both hit their rock bottom and as a result are fully clinging to one another with nowhere to go but up.
The show starts us in a classically appointed apartment as our hero, Early Landry is just moving in following the death of his wife of years. Mr. Landry is not familiar with apartment life; in fact he’s not even familiar with this time zone as he’s from the deep south of Mississippi and he’s landed into the heart and heat of Hollywood. There are some things which he does take a storied hand at; for instance banging on the ceiling when his pair of upstairs bong-smoking neighbors are “rocking out” too loud, too long, or too late (ah! how I wish we all had such agreeable neighbors!)
Then there’s Freda. A beautiful and exotic transvestite who is found to be on the losing side of an argument for her boyfriend to stay with her. She’s jealous, he’s had it, and Early is there to peek in on what’s going on in the apartment next door. In typical nosey neighbor fashion he hears the whole disagreement and a bond is struck almost immediately.
Like Thelma & Louise for the apartment set, this is a story of two wildly different people who need to be able to trust in each other to save themselves. In doing so they are able to learn about themselves and save one another. Tender, touching, hilarious, and lovely; you only have a little while longer but if you get the opportunity you should certainly see Anything; a fairy tale love story for the 21st century.
www.plays411.com/anything
www.elephanttheatrecompany.com
www.myspace.com/elephanttheatrecompany
Sunday, January 27, 2008
At Home OnStage: From the Frontlines
(I don't often leave this open for others to post on; but my friend Josh Kauffman and his merry band of brothers & sisters did an amazing thing recently. This performance group put up a showcase event with New York City's homeless taking the mic and having a chance to get their story heard. I was so touched when I found out that another one of my good friends was involved with this, that I offered them this space to do some first hand reporting of how they thought the event went. What follows is Mr. Kauffman retelling his story. JS)
First Hand/Front Line
by Josh Kauffman
It started with just an idea, with someone telling me I should look deeper into my relationship with New York's homeless community. I'd been coming to terms with how jaded I'd been regarding the homeless, especially the subway and street corner panhandlers, and realizing how much I'd neglected the human being inside each of the people I'd been so successfully ignoring. I developed the idea to present these people with an outlet for expression, to allow people to see the stories they wanted to tell.
After circulating the idea among my friends and letting it take root, we generated a community of volunteers to start the project in motion.We were very improvisational as we developed our strategies and goals. We knew we wanted a show, we knew we wanted homeless performers; beyond that, we were forced to generate the questions that needed answers, and then generate those answers. We lost a few volunteers early on because of the spontaneity with which we approached the task, but the corps that remained was both dedicated and resourceful.
The plan was that we would create workshop teams of two to four volunteers. Each team would approach a community center, shelter, or some other service provider, and present our mission statement with an offer to conduct theater workshops in their space, for anyone who wished to participate. With enough teams at work, each with their own handful of participants, over the few weeks' prep time we allotted ourselves we would generate more than enough material to fill a sixty to seventy-five minute program.
While that part of the process was being developed, we were at work securing a venue and connecting all the other dots. We wanted to feed the participants and the audience, and we needed to start the publicity machine working, and it was a lot of balls to keep in the air at once. That we were able to do so, and that the people we approached for help were so accommodating and generous, were more than a minor miracle. A church in Midtown donated their space, two different restaurants offered food, Ben and Jerry's gave us ice cream, and a great photographer friend of mine recruited a friend of hers to put together some amazing publicity pictures. We're all flying high.
In the end, we had one team, usually a team of one person, working at Project ORE at a synagogue on 23rd Street. Instead of 'street' homeless, our participants came almost exclusively from shelter communities, though one of our poets had been on the streets for nearly five years. Both in terms of our volunteers and the participants we were courting, availability was always a sticky issue. The venues we approached were open for limited windows during the day, and most of the participants could only be there for those limited hours before they scattered to other obligations.
Right up till opening night, it wasn't fully clear who would be showing up to perform, or what they would show us when they did get on stage. Our commitment was to give a good experience to everyone who arrived, on both sides of the curtain, so we smiled and kept encouraging and working.We achieved our goals, for both performances, though very differently each night.
On Friday, we were short three of our expected performers, and one man came who wasn't expected at all. It was a bit of a shuffle to make sure the show was complete and on schedule, but we presented a complete program and had more than enough food afterward to make for a good reception. The second performance, we actually had two extra performers, and had to wonder whether the program would be too long. We fielded some hurt feelings and misunderstandings as we trimmed the bill a bit - we'd love to have a two hour show, but we can't overstay our welcome at our free performance space.
In the end, the church indulged us with extra time, we had a longer and better show, the audience was moved to laughter and tears, and the participants were stoically grateful and pleased.The greatest thing for me was to see the new connections that got made. Our team leader, Casey, made some fast friendships among the performers she'd been working with, which have endured even after the curtain came down on "At Home on Stage."
The audience engaged the performers, and without fail came away with smiles or looks of wonder on their faces. And to see new friendships formed, the excitement for what had been created and the energy it took to make it all work... I mean, it was totally worth it.
Here I am writing this book report or history lesson about How It All happened, but in a nutshell: We wanted to present an opportunity to perform, to people who have not been offered that opportunity, and perhaps didn't even know they could have it. We wanted to present these people to an audience of their peers and mine, to create new dialogues and levels of understanding. We did that. And then we fed everyone lasagna and salad and chicken fingers.
First Hand/Front Line
by Josh Kauffman
It started with just an idea, with someone telling me I should look deeper into my relationship with New York's homeless community. I'd been coming to terms with how jaded I'd been regarding the homeless, especially the subway and street corner panhandlers, and realizing how much I'd neglected the human being inside each of the people I'd been so successfully ignoring. I developed the idea to present these people with an outlet for expression, to allow people to see the stories they wanted to tell.
After circulating the idea among my friends and letting it take root, we generated a community of volunteers to start the project in motion.We were very improvisational as we developed our strategies and goals. We knew we wanted a show, we knew we wanted homeless performers; beyond that, we were forced to generate the questions that needed answers, and then generate those answers. We lost a few volunteers early on because of the spontaneity with which we approached the task, but the corps that remained was both dedicated and resourceful.
The plan was that we would create workshop teams of two to four volunteers. Each team would approach a community center, shelter, or some other service provider, and present our mission statement with an offer to conduct theater workshops in their space, for anyone who wished to participate. With enough teams at work, each with their own handful of participants, over the few weeks' prep time we allotted ourselves we would generate more than enough material to fill a sixty to seventy-five minute program.
While that part of the process was being developed, we were at work securing a venue and connecting all the other dots. We wanted to feed the participants and the audience, and we needed to start the publicity machine working, and it was a lot of balls to keep in the air at once. That we were able to do so, and that the people we approached for help were so accommodating and generous, were more than a minor miracle. A church in Midtown donated their space, two different restaurants offered food, Ben and Jerry's gave us ice cream, and a great photographer friend of mine recruited a friend of hers to put together some amazing publicity pictures. We're all flying high.
In the end, we had one team, usually a team of one person, working at Project ORE at a synagogue on 23rd Street. Instead of 'street' homeless, our participants came almost exclusively from shelter communities, though one of our poets had been on the streets for nearly five years. Both in terms of our volunteers and the participants we were courting, availability was always a sticky issue. The venues we approached were open for limited windows during the day, and most of the participants could only be there for those limited hours before they scattered to other obligations.
Right up till opening night, it wasn't fully clear who would be showing up to perform, or what they would show us when they did get on stage. Our commitment was to give a good experience to everyone who arrived, on both sides of the curtain, so we smiled and kept encouraging and working.We achieved our goals, for both performances, though very differently each night.
On Friday, we were short three of our expected performers, and one man came who wasn't expected at all. It was a bit of a shuffle to make sure the show was complete and on schedule, but we presented a complete program and had more than enough food afterward to make for a good reception. The second performance, we actually had two extra performers, and had to wonder whether the program would be too long. We fielded some hurt feelings and misunderstandings as we trimmed the bill a bit - we'd love to have a two hour show, but we can't overstay our welcome at our free performance space.
In the end, the church indulged us with extra time, we had a longer and better show, the audience was moved to laughter and tears, and the participants were stoically grateful and pleased.The greatest thing for me was to see the new connections that got made. Our team leader, Casey, made some fast friendships among the performers she'd been working with, which have endured even after the curtain came down on "At Home on Stage."
The audience engaged the performers, and without fail came away with smiles or looks of wonder on their faces. And to see new friendships formed, the excitement for what had been created and the energy it took to make it all work... I mean, it was totally worth it.
Here I am writing this book report or history lesson about How It All happened, but in a nutshell: We wanted to present an opportunity to perform, to people who have not been offered that opportunity, and perhaps didn't even know they could have it. We wanted to present these people to an audience of their peers and mine, to create new dialogues and levels of understanding. We did that. And then we fed everyone lasagna and salad and chicken fingers.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
US Premier of Athol Fugards "Victory"
Victory Lost at Fountain Theatre
by Jesse Schmitt
The title of the latest Athol Fugard work to hit the United States is “Victory” but all around these three characters lies the stench of failure. The US Premiere is presented by The Fountain Theatre (5060 Fountain Ave, Los Angeles) and is directed by the theatre’s co-artistic director, Stephen Sachs.
When you walk into The Fountain Theatre’s intimate 78 seat house, perhaps the first thing you will notice is how close you are to the stage. This is not unlike any other black box theatre which many of us have been to before; the difference here is the intricate detail that the set designer, director, and technical staff have gone over inside this space; literally throwing us into this world.
The setting seems pedestrian enough; a study and open dining area of a home; but everything, the floor to ceiling bookshelves packed tight with individually selected volumes, the inviting looking cushioned chair in the study, which you know has been sat in many times, the floorboards which extend all the way off the stage so it appears as though it never ends; none of these details were lost on this reviewer. But it wasn’t just the downstage dressings with some curtains haphazardly thrown up in the rear; there were windows, two doors leading to two other rooms, and a zigzagging hallway which takes us to the back. From the moment you walk in, you’re taken back through the looking glass; it was as though the show would begin, “Once upon a time…” and the front page of the storybook would turn. It was impressive indeed.
But there was still something else about this home. It felt empty, deserted, vacated. Lived in and still, not. There was this huge beautiful oak dining room table which had chairs askew as though there had recently been bodies there; but no other signs of life. There was no clutter; no juice glass, no newspaper; the books were all high up on the shelves, but the reading lamps were extinguished and all the pillows on the couch were neatly in place.
We quickly would learn why this was so; the house would not maintain its cool facade for too long.
The lights go dark; crickets begin their serenade on the quiet South African village of Karoo, and the first thing we hear is glass being broken into. Through one of the windows stumble Freddie (Lovensky Jean-Baptiste) and Vicky (Tinashe Kajese) who appear to be little more than two bumbling burglars. They race around the room, ravishing it thoroughly; as they keep whisper-screaming at each other that “they need the money.” Actually it’s Freddie who does most of the destruction and whispering; this is a house that Vicky has led him to and one she claims she’s seen great sums of cash on hand at before. Yet she can do little but light a candle, sit on the table, fend off Freddie’s lame sexual advances, and sing; all of which are much to the dislike of Freddie.
They move to a comfortable pace of pulling out drawers, tearing down books and urinating on them, and sharing stories when suddenly enters Lionel (Morlan Higgins) the aging Caucasian resident of this African nation. He enters from upstage slyly with a pistol in his hand and catches everyone by surprise. Lionel is a measured man but he’s immediately chagrin when he realizes that Vicky is on the floor.
The lights come up and the real story of this play is allowed to begin. This is a tale that many westerners wouldn’t really understand too well (or at least not the crowd the night I was there) Lionel was the employer of Vicky’s mother, as a housekeeper; and even though Vicky’s been filling his head in passing with tales of her bright future, in reality Vicky has been reduced to her petty burglary.
Moreover, Freddie has convinced Vicky that he is gong to find a better life in Capetown; where the living is easy and the money is there for the taking. While Vicky continually tells Freddie that she wants to “find her own road” she appears to be continually clinging to this guy who is not really all that nice to her, yet she can not let go.
Lionel enters and the verbal and physical jousting begins. He starts with the upper hand as he’s got the gun and the moral platitude to scream down from his bully pulpit; however the dynamic quickly shifts leading to a balancing act in the end which offers up deadly results.
Lionel is played with a kind hand and a meandering stoicism but even he is lost without the companionship of his wife. Freddie is played with a wild and hot intensity, reacting with split second judgment which can only lead to a bad end. Vicky is played like a little girl on a see-saw; sometimes she’s up and sometimes she’s down; this conflicted aching is her implosion; merely from her own inertia.
Vicky the child was born around the day Nelson Mandela walked free from Victor Verster prison. She was named Vicky not because of the name of the jail but because of the words that rang out from Mandela like a silver bell to her mother, to everyone in Africa, and all around the world on that day: “Victory!” But back in the real world and in the world that is the situation of this play, everyone loses. As Freddie tells Lionel, “You don’t know what it’s like for us…There is no hope here.” No hope for Lionel either as he is an old man who has given up on the life he once enjoyed.
“Victory” is a play about three people; three lost souls; and the cosmic convergence which brought them together in this way. They have all been dealt a bad hand against the stacked deck of life and each are, in their own way, inching toward their own self destruction.
The title of the latest Athol Fugard work to hit the United States is “Victory” but all around these three characters lies the stench of failure. The US Premiere is presented by The Fountain Theatre (5060 Fountain Ave, Los Angeles) and is directed by the theatre’s co-artistic director, Stephen Sachs.
When you walk into The Fountain Theatre’s intimate 78 seat house, perhaps the first thing you will notice is how close you are to the stage. This is not unlike any other black box theatre which many of us have been to before; the difference here is the intricate detail that the set designer, director, and technical staff have gone over inside this space; literally throwing us into this world.
The setting seems pedestrian enough; a study and open dining area of a home; but everything, the floor to ceiling bookshelves packed tight with individually selected volumes, the inviting looking cushioned chair in the study, which you know has been sat in many times, the floorboards which extend all the way off the stage so it appears as though it never ends; none of these details were lost on this reviewer. But it wasn’t just the downstage dressings with some curtains haphazardly thrown up in the rear; there were windows, two doors leading to two other rooms, and a zigzagging hallway which takes us to the back. From the moment you walk in, you’re taken back through the looking glass; it was as though the show would begin, “Once upon a time…” and the front page of the storybook would turn. It was impressive indeed.
But there was still something else about this home. It felt empty, deserted, vacated. Lived in and still, not. There was this huge beautiful oak dining room table which had chairs askew as though there had recently been bodies there; but no other signs of life. There was no clutter; no juice glass, no newspaper; the books were all high up on the shelves, but the reading lamps were extinguished and all the pillows on the couch were neatly in place.
We quickly would learn why this was so; the house would not maintain its cool facade for too long.
The lights go dark; crickets begin their serenade on the quiet South African village of Karoo, and the first thing we hear is glass being broken into. Through one of the windows stumble Freddie (Lovensky Jean-Baptiste) and Vicky (Tinashe Kajese) who appear to be little more than two bumbling burglars. They race around the room, ravishing it thoroughly; as they keep whisper-screaming at each other that “they need the money.” Actually it’s Freddie who does most of the destruction and whispering; this is a house that Vicky has led him to and one she claims she’s seen great sums of cash on hand at before. Yet she can do little but light a candle, sit on the table, fend off Freddie’s lame sexual advances, and sing; all of which are much to the dislike of Freddie.
They move to a comfortable pace of pulling out drawers, tearing down books and urinating on them, and sharing stories when suddenly enters Lionel (Morlan Higgins) the aging Caucasian resident of this African nation. He enters from upstage slyly with a pistol in his hand and catches everyone by surprise. Lionel is a measured man but he’s immediately chagrin when he realizes that Vicky is on the floor.
The lights come up and the real story of this play is allowed to begin. This is a tale that many westerners wouldn’t really understand too well (or at least not the crowd the night I was there) Lionel was the employer of Vicky’s mother, as a housekeeper; and even though Vicky’s been filling his head in passing with tales of her bright future, in reality Vicky has been reduced to her petty burglary.
Moreover, Freddie has convinced Vicky that he is gong to find a better life in Capetown; where the living is easy and the money is there for the taking. While Vicky continually tells Freddie that she wants to “find her own road” she appears to be continually clinging to this guy who is not really all that nice to her, yet she can not let go.
Lionel enters and the verbal and physical jousting begins. He starts with the upper hand as he’s got the gun and the moral platitude to scream down from his bully pulpit; however the dynamic quickly shifts leading to a balancing act in the end which offers up deadly results.
Lionel is played with a kind hand and a meandering stoicism but even he is lost without the companionship of his wife. Freddie is played with a wild and hot intensity, reacting with split second judgment which can only lead to a bad end. Vicky is played like a little girl on a see-saw; sometimes she’s up and sometimes she’s down; this conflicted aching is her implosion; merely from her own inertia.
Vicky the child was born around the day Nelson Mandela walked free from Victor Verster prison. She was named Vicky not because of the name of the jail but because of the words that rang out from Mandela like a silver bell to her mother, to everyone in Africa, and all around the world on that day: “Victory!” But back in the real world and in the world that is the situation of this play, everyone loses. As Freddie tells Lionel, “You don’t know what it’s like for us…There is no hope here.” No hope for Lionel either as he is an old man who has given up on the life he once enjoyed.
“Victory” is a play about three people; three lost souls; and the cosmic convergence which brought them together in this way. They have all been dealt a bad hand against the stacked deck of life and each are, in their own way, inching toward their own self destruction.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Standing on My Knees: Falling Down
The Impression That I Get
by Jesse Schmitt
First impressions are everything. They can make or break the dynamic of a relationship before you have even been able to fully form an opinion of someone. So making a good first impression is vital for the continued success of personal relationships; if you just keep going around, stoking everyone you meet, you will have a hard time forging lasting bonds, partly because people will never know what to expect from you and partly because many people shut others out if their initial experience with you is a negative one.
It is the same for me whenever I see a theatre show; I am always careful to have a good look around the theatre space and get as acclimated with it as possible so that I can understand where we are picking up in the lives of these people. However if I am led astray from the get go then it is often difficult for me to orient myself.
Playwrights are notorious for picking up wherever they feel is a good place to start; when you’re viewing the work of a seasoned professional, you will get acclimated quickly. Think about a play like “All My Sons;” you’re introduced to Joe Keller on the porch steps and he seems like a fine upstanding pillar of the local community. On the surface the biggest problem seems to be that this family needs to begin coping with the fact that their son, who has been missing for three years from the war, is dead. However there are steamier things brewing in the Keller home; all of which are spun out for us, throughout.
From the beginning of the current Los Angeles production of “Standing On My Knees,” (1501 N Gardner St) by John Olive (set in 1982) we are introduced to what looks like a very meager existence. A desk, a couch and chair, a fold out bed, and a bookshelf to the rear; we learn rather quickly that the desk and the bed and the couch/chair combo are really three distinct places. But for now the play has not even begun; so all we are left with is these disparate elements and a girl sleeping on the bed, beneath a blanket.
This girl is Catherine (Meg Wallace). Catherine lay there still and stiff as a board when I first entered the theatre and every occasion I looked over to her, she never moved. I felt it could either be a great exertion from this talented actor or she was just tired or a practiced sleeper. In either event I prepared myself for a thrilling theatrical adventure.
In the press release the play is described for us this way: “Catherine is a beautiful, young poet with two published books to her credit and a publisher who believes in her talent. But Catherine is also a schizophrenic, tormented by all the noise of the many voices in her head. Her therapist prescribes an anti psychotic which quiets things down. A young stockbroker falls head over heels for Catherine and they begin a serious romance.”
From my understanding of this play, my glance at the cast list, and the fact that her picture is on the postcard, I’d gleaned from that, that Catherine was the woman in question who lay down before me. She didn’t even appear to be breathing. A quick surveillance of the area showed that there were four books on the desk; two of indeterminate authorship (which ended up being Catherine’s) and Virginia Woolf and Emily Dickinson.
Finally when the action began, we quickly begin to feel as though we are in a Pink Floyd album. “Dark Side of the Moon,” specifically as there is hammering and clanking (which I still, after seeing the play and investigating upstairs during intermission, couldn’t decide if it was intentional or just from another show upstairs; we are inside of a basement space). However the sound designer and director do a great job in shooting around the voices that are both spoken and recorded and making them hauntingly visceral.
Catherine is apparently just out from the hospital and is having a difficult time doing anything. She looks as though she were just from the hospital as her eyes are heavy set and her entire demeanor screams medication. But then again, so does her therapist, Joanne (Barbara Keegan). While the affection from Catherine could be called dependent, the performance from Joanne is so monotone and glib; you’d wonder what Tom Cruise might have to say about her. But I wasn’t in a therapists office at the beginning of the therapy revolution of the late 70’s which continues on into today. While Joanne was no “Dr. Phil” you wonder if her portrayal was commensurate with the times.
Catherine dresses in all black and often slips easily to and from her bed; she seems to get comfort from sleep. She meets with her publisher, Alice (Rachel Hardy), who may be slightly infatuated with more than her talents (we learn that the stack of books; Woolf and Dickinson with Catherine’s two sandwiched between; are, in fact, Alice’s; that’s pretty imposing company for any author) or it may just be that the audience is seeing the world through the eyes of Catherine. In any event, Alice is the one who introduces her to Robert (Brian Barth), the young stockbroker, at a party.
This is one of the places where I had a hard time buying the story. I dated a schizophrenic girl, seemingly in another life, for more than a year. She was crazy. But she was very passionate in every sense of the word. We loved hard, we fought hard; everything was hyper-real with her; even when she was on her meds. So the fact that Catherine was so…self aware had me a little confused. I just didn’t get that she even liked this guy. A couple of quotes, in the text I found a little far fetched “Head over heels in like;” when Catherine’s talking to Alice and “You best stay away from me; I’m poison,” when Catherine’s talking to Robert.
I guess I just don’t understand where all this restraint was coming from! It wasn’t the acting or even the directing but the mere existence of the words which had me puzzled. I know this play is more than 20 years old, has numerous productions, has maybe helped in the understanding of schizophrenia as not an illness which requires a straight jacket, but deference and understanding, and has achieved the penultimate achievement for a playwright (before a Tony award/Broadway production) which is a Dramatist Play Service volume.
In the director’s notes, Trace Oakley says “I find the play just as relevant now as then.” Seriously? With all the knowledge we have at our fingertips at any moment, you think that placing the play in its original time and place somehow helps us understand the current climate, how? I guess I’d like to see more of a moving forward and less of a period piece; away from the discussion of “what was” and more to the point of “what’s next?”
Or the producers should call it what it is.
by Jesse Schmitt
First impressions are everything. They can make or break the dynamic of a relationship before you have even been able to fully form an opinion of someone. So making a good first impression is vital for the continued success of personal relationships; if you just keep going around, stoking everyone you meet, you will have a hard time forging lasting bonds, partly because people will never know what to expect from you and partly because many people shut others out if their initial experience with you is a negative one.
It is the same for me whenever I see a theatre show; I am always careful to have a good look around the theatre space and get as acclimated with it as possible so that I can understand where we are picking up in the lives of these people. However if I am led astray from the get go then it is often difficult for me to orient myself.
Playwrights are notorious for picking up wherever they feel is a good place to start; when you’re viewing the work of a seasoned professional, you will get acclimated quickly. Think about a play like “All My Sons;” you’re introduced to Joe Keller on the porch steps and he seems like a fine upstanding pillar of the local community. On the surface the biggest problem seems to be that this family needs to begin coping with the fact that their son, who has been missing for three years from the war, is dead. However there are steamier things brewing in the Keller home; all of which are spun out for us, throughout.
From the beginning of the current Los Angeles production of “Standing On My Knees,” (1501 N Gardner St) by John Olive (set in 1982) we are introduced to what looks like a very meager existence. A desk, a couch and chair, a fold out bed, and a bookshelf to the rear; we learn rather quickly that the desk and the bed and the couch/chair combo are really three distinct places. But for now the play has not even begun; so all we are left with is these disparate elements and a girl sleeping on the bed, beneath a blanket.
This girl is Catherine (Meg Wallace). Catherine lay there still and stiff as a board when I first entered the theatre and every occasion I looked over to her, she never moved. I felt it could either be a great exertion from this talented actor or she was just tired or a practiced sleeper. In either event I prepared myself for a thrilling theatrical adventure.
In the press release the play is described for us this way: “Catherine is a beautiful, young poet with two published books to her credit and a publisher who believes in her talent. But Catherine is also a schizophrenic, tormented by all the noise of the many voices in her head. Her therapist prescribes an anti psychotic which quiets things down. A young stockbroker falls head over heels for Catherine and they begin a serious romance.”
From my understanding of this play, my glance at the cast list, and the fact that her picture is on the postcard, I’d gleaned from that, that Catherine was the woman in question who lay down before me. She didn’t even appear to be breathing. A quick surveillance of the area showed that there were four books on the desk; two of indeterminate authorship (which ended up being Catherine’s) and Virginia Woolf and Emily Dickinson.
Finally when the action began, we quickly begin to feel as though we are in a Pink Floyd album. “Dark Side of the Moon,” specifically as there is hammering and clanking (which I still, after seeing the play and investigating upstairs during intermission, couldn’t decide if it was intentional or just from another show upstairs; we are inside of a basement space). However the sound designer and director do a great job in shooting around the voices that are both spoken and recorded and making them hauntingly visceral.
Catherine is apparently just out from the hospital and is having a difficult time doing anything. She looks as though she were just from the hospital as her eyes are heavy set and her entire demeanor screams medication. But then again, so does her therapist, Joanne (Barbara Keegan). While the affection from Catherine could be called dependent, the performance from Joanne is so monotone and glib; you’d wonder what Tom Cruise might have to say about her. But I wasn’t in a therapists office at the beginning of the therapy revolution of the late 70’s which continues on into today. While Joanne was no “Dr. Phil” you wonder if her portrayal was commensurate with the times.
Catherine dresses in all black and often slips easily to and from her bed; she seems to get comfort from sleep. She meets with her publisher, Alice (Rachel Hardy), who may be slightly infatuated with more than her talents (we learn that the stack of books; Woolf and Dickinson with Catherine’s two sandwiched between; are, in fact, Alice’s; that’s pretty imposing company for any author) or it may just be that the audience is seeing the world through the eyes of Catherine. In any event, Alice is the one who introduces her to Robert (Brian Barth), the young stockbroker, at a party.
This is one of the places where I had a hard time buying the story. I dated a schizophrenic girl, seemingly in another life, for more than a year. She was crazy. But she was very passionate in every sense of the word. We loved hard, we fought hard; everything was hyper-real with her; even when she was on her meds. So the fact that Catherine was so…self aware had me a little confused. I just didn’t get that she even liked this guy. A couple of quotes, in the text I found a little far fetched “Head over heels in like;” when Catherine’s talking to Alice and “You best stay away from me; I’m poison,” when Catherine’s talking to Robert.
I guess I just don’t understand where all this restraint was coming from! It wasn’t the acting or even the directing but the mere existence of the words which had me puzzled. I know this play is more than 20 years old, has numerous productions, has maybe helped in the understanding of schizophrenia as not an illness which requires a straight jacket, but deference and understanding, and has achieved the penultimate achievement for a playwright (before a Tony award/Broadway production) which is a Dramatist Play Service volume.
In the director’s notes, Trace Oakley says “I find the play just as relevant now as then.” Seriously? With all the knowledge we have at our fingertips at any moment, you think that placing the play in its original time and place somehow helps us understand the current climate, how? I guess I’d like to see more of a moving forward and less of a period piece; away from the discussion of “what was” and more to the point of “what’s next?”
Or the producers should call it what it is.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Stay With Me!
Looking for Love in the Theatre? Stay With Me Is It!
by Jesse Schmitt
With a never ending writer’s strike and many actors and writers high off the cabana juice, there are some who have had enough! Many of the finest writers and actors have given up fully on the screen and returned to the stage. This is a bold move and one which is highly encouraged by this scribe (more/better shows for me to review) One of these shows which is an outgrowth of the writer’s strike will be beginning February 1, and plans to run until February 17 (but hey, who knows?!) It’s by David H. Rodriguez and is called “Stay With Me.”
Touted as a new piece about true love and pulling in to the Stella Adler Theatre (Studio C at 6773 Hollywood Blvd., 2nd Floor) in Hollywood, “Stay With Me” may just be the satisfaction for your craving. Brought to your stage by award winning talent, inspired by perennial favorites Woody Allen and Neil Simon, this is a sweet and careful exploration of true love.
Set in Chicago, a successful young man, played by Rodriguez, finally meets the woman of his dreams, played by Maria Musebrink. What follows is a sweet and careful love story that deals with the reality of modern relationships, including doubt, trust, sorrow, and loss, without losing the feelings of hope, happiness, and the sense of being complete that we all search for.
STAY WITH ME mixes old-fashioned love with the fast-paced, Starbucks-drinking-Society of today's world. According to Rodriguez, true love is dead!! "We live in a world where people don't believe in love at first sight anymore," says the playwright, "I'm hoping this story will awaken that teenage dream we all had."
In keeping with the spirit of true love there will be a special Valentine’s Day performance on February 14, at 8PM. Other shows will run Friday through Sundays with all shows also at 8PM. Tickets are $10 but there’s a break for students, seniors, and I’ll bet if you ask really nicely and you plan to propose to your sweetheart AT the show in front of the audience you could work something out with the producers of the show. I’m not guaranteeing anything; I’m just saying.
So if you are a romantic like me and you still believe in the healing, hopeful, amazing, wonderful power of love, you should run out to get tickets for the David Rodriguez (coinciding with) Valentine’s Day spectacular “Stay With Me.”
by Jesse Schmitt
With a never ending writer’s strike and many actors and writers high off the cabana juice, there are some who have had enough! Many of the finest writers and actors have given up fully on the screen and returned to the stage. This is a bold move and one which is highly encouraged by this scribe (more/better shows for me to review) One of these shows which is an outgrowth of the writer’s strike will be beginning February 1, and plans to run until February 17 (but hey, who knows?!) It’s by David H. Rodriguez and is called “Stay With Me.”
Touted as a new piece about true love and pulling in to the Stella Adler Theatre (Studio C at 6773 Hollywood Blvd., 2nd Floor) in Hollywood, “Stay With Me” may just be the satisfaction for your craving. Brought to your stage by award winning talent, inspired by perennial favorites Woody Allen and Neil Simon, this is a sweet and careful exploration of true love.
Set in Chicago, a successful young man, played by Rodriguez, finally meets the woman of his dreams, played by Maria Musebrink. What follows is a sweet and careful love story that deals with the reality of modern relationships, including doubt, trust, sorrow, and loss, without losing the feelings of hope, happiness, and the sense of being complete that we all search for.
STAY WITH ME mixes old-fashioned love with the fast-paced, Starbucks-drinking-Society of today's world. According to Rodriguez, true love is dead!! "We live in a world where people don't believe in love at first sight anymore," says the playwright, "I'm hoping this story will awaken that teenage dream we all had."
In keeping with the spirit of true love there will be a special Valentine’s Day performance on February 14, at 8PM. Other shows will run Friday through Sundays with all shows also at 8PM. Tickets are $10 but there’s a break for students, seniors, and I’ll bet if you ask really nicely and you plan to propose to your sweetheart AT the show in front of the audience you could work something out with the producers of the show. I’m not guaranteeing anything; I’m just saying.
So if you are a romantic like me and you still believe in the healing, hopeful, amazing, wonderful power of love, you should run out to get tickets for the David Rodriguez (coinciding with) Valentine’s Day spectacular “Stay With Me.”
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
On Mamet & The Current Revival of Sexual Perversity in Chicago
Seminal Work? Or Museum Piece?
By Jesse Schmitt
David Mamet has always been one of my favorite writers. More than the fact that he so ably and deftly carves out of his characters words, a sickening portrait of the Old West, Marlboro Man, American male machismo which has dominated this nation’s perception of reality and life and to a large extent for a segment of the population, still does.
I’ve known a less publicized and more intimate David Mamet; through his words, I’ve studied his teachings. Many people may know that he and actor William H. Macy began the world renowned Atlantic Theatre Company; what many do not know is that in addition to his writings for the stage, screen, and his directing, David Mamet is also a book author. I learned a lot about theatre and live performance from his books “Writing in Restaurants,” "True and False," and “Three Uses of the Knife.”
I learned what it meant to be an actor from a playwright’s position and what steps need be taken for a show to really gain traction and spread wings. David Mamet is the one whose words gave me courage to break out on my own and it is, in large part, due to his “it’s not going to be easy but this is how you do it,” approach which put the real world in real terms for me. His plain spoken attitude showed me that writing in itself is a job which requires a leap of faith and more importantly, a trial-and-error command of your own perception of yourself, even when others have written you off for dead.
Equally important, I’ve always respected his talent and his opinion; how could you not? Love it or hate it, the opinion in all of the cannon of Mamet shoots out like a lightning bolt; you are never at a loss for words as to where the artist’s voice is in his pieces.
So I have a definite opinion of David Mamet and his various works at various stages in his career. Many people know many titles in the Mamet catalog: “Glengarry Glen Ross,” “Oleanna,” “Speed the Plough,” “American Buffalo;” all of these plays and many more have helped us to define a writer who is still at his pinnacle of influence, has effectively and effortlessly crossed genres, and continues to pump out a respectable amount of work if for no one’s sake than his own amusement or his own outrage.
It is with the greatest amount of respect for the original playwright and for the artists involved in this most recent production of “Sexual Perversity in Chicago (The Flight Theatre 6476 Santa Monica Blvd. Hollywood)” that I say, I still have a tough time stomaching that play. I’d been lucky enough to see this play previously in Edinburgh Scotland at the Fringe Festival in 2001. I didn’t like it then and my opinion has not changed. I went into this show with an open mind; I even desperately wanted to like it; but time has not changed the core of this show.
Even Mamet’s own opinions on the work appeared bitterly laced with acid: “…as a callow youth with hay sticking out of my ears, I sold both the play and the screenplay for about $12;” this led to the majority of his subsequent productions being kept in check by his own production vehicle. Despite the fact that reference was alluding to the less than phenomenal “About Last Night” movie adaptation of this show; the subtext was clear. The artist did not want this to become his seminal work; he was much too smart for that. He knew that this tiny one act play which had helped propel him to prominence may be a step along the path but he did not want this to be the work about which his entire career was based and on which his name would be made.
Yet still, it is produced and still people take these four shallow characters down the road which was crafted for them and still it is troubling and missing the point and purely a vanity project.
Just ask Joe Kreimborg; the star and producer of this show. Mr. Kreimborg plays Danny Shapiro; an insecure office worker who is the morning after wingman of his more than outspoken co-worker, Bernie (Jeff Markey). Bernie tells the tales and Danny sits in awe. Even though we're introduced to him in the subordinate dynamic, Danny ends up hooking up with this woman, Deb (Agatha Nowicki) who probably sleeps with him because she is at a crossroads in her life. Deb is in a similar situation as Danny as she plays wing-woman to her spurned best friend. It may seem that this is the perfect situation for both Danny and Deb as they can help their friends come to terms with their insecurities. However this is not the case; Bernie has feigned interest in his friends real life relationships; Danny has just crossed Deb’s totally over the top best friend and roommate Joan (Necar Zadegan).
Such is the life of the dating masses; however it’s too bad that Joan and Bernie have their own ideas about losing their friends to the commitment and sacrifices which go along with steady relationships. Joan has been scorned; Bernie hyperbolizes his own sex life; neither one of them is comfortable losing their sounding boards to the “wah-wah” of pedestrian relationships.
In this production, Joan and Bernie seem to be the only one’s who have hit their stride. You always know what’s going on in their head; it could be the writing, which may be what Mamet was saying, but there seems to be another thing going on. Mr. Kreimborg, as the stated in the program producer, seems to have his own ideas about this character and hasn’t seemed to (I hope) listen to the director (Alex Feldman)
I can’t blame the director because when the star of the show is also the producer, they will do whatever they want. As a producer who has made a fool of themselves onstage before by not listening to a director, I know. However I can’t totally hold the director harmless; let’s just say that Mr. Feldman could have done more.
I understand that Danny is engendered in the text as “meek” and “shy” but the portrayal of Mr. Kreimborg of the character was totally obnoxious, unbelievable, and not current with the spirit of the times. It was the 70’s man! Their costumer, set dresser, and props person got things right; Mr. Kreimborg missed it. Specifically, he mumbled his lines, he talked to his shoulder, and there was this perpetual, effeminate, giggle which sprung up from his Danny which was his trademark sound and, in this text, gets a resounding thumbs down. Maybe if he’d “thrown it in” once or twice for effect; but it was like every other word. For Mr. Markey it must have been like yelling at a three year old!
Bernie was well played; his intensity transcended the babble; similarly with Ms. Zadegan; her portrayal of Joan as an untrusting, cynical, aggressive, and Girl-Power’ish woman, who is conflicted due to her overwhelming need for her friend, was well played. But Ms Nowicki was completely unmemorable. When Ms. Nowicki and Mr. Kreimborg were onstage together, it was like peeling back fingernails across a rusty chalkboard.
But maybe that’s the point. It seems like a young, inexperienced writer who would make observations and generalizations like this. So maybe, for all of our sakes, we had just better leave “Sexual Perversity in Chicago” on the shelf. As a period piece, it’s bearable. But even then, when we’re trying to move forward the discussion and get beyond certain stereotypes, it would seem necessary to leave certain works alone for a few hundred years, before we’re able to get to a point where revivals like this seem “quaint.”
Or you could just do whatever the fuck you want…heh-he!
http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qn4159/is_20030504/ai_n12739273
http://www.plays411.com/newsite/show/play_info.asp
By Jesse Schmitt
David Mamet has always been one of my favorite writers. More than the fact that he so ably and deftly carves out of his characters words, a sickening portrait of the Old West, Marlboro Man, American male machismo which has dominated this nation’s perception of reality and life and to a large extent for a segment of the population, still does.
I’ve known a less publicized and more intimate David Mamet; through his words, I’ve studied his teachings. Many people may know that he and actor William H. Macy began the world renowned Atlantic Theatre Company; what many do not know is that in addition to his writings for the stage, screen, and his directing, David Mamet is also a book author. I learned a lot about theatre and live performance from his books “Writing in Restaurants,” "True and False," and “Three Uses of the Knife.”
I learned what it meant to be an actor from a playwright’s position and what steps need be taken for a show to really gain traction and spread wings. David Mamet is the one whose words gave me courage to break out on my own and it is, in large part, due to his “it’s not going to be easy but this is how you do it,” approach which put the real world in real terms for me. His plain spoken attitude showed me that writing in itself is a job which requires a leap of faith and more importantly, a trial-and-error command of your own perception of yourself, even when others have written you off for dead.
Equally important, I’ve always respected his talent and his opinion; how could you not? Love it or hate it, the opinion in all of the cannon of Mamet shoots out like a lightning bolt; you are never at a loss for words as to where the artist’s voice is in his pieces.
So I have a definite opinion of David Mamet and his various works at various stages in his career. Many people know many titles in the Mamet catalog: “Glengarry Glen Ross,” “Oleanna,” “Speed the Plough,” “American Buffalo;” all of these plays and many more have helped us to define a writer who is still at his pinnacle of influence, has effectively and effortlessly crossed genres, and continues to pump out a respectable amount of work if for no one’s sake than his own amusement or his own outrage.
It is with the greatest amount of respect for the original playwright and for the artists involved in this most recent production of “Sexual Perversity in Chicago (The Flight Theatre 6476 Santa Monica Blvd. Hollywood)” that I say, I still have a tough time stomaching that play. I’d been lucky enough to see this play previously in Edinburgh Scotland at the Fringe Festival in 2001. I didn’t like it then and my opinion has not changed. I went into this show with an open mind; I even desperately wanted to like it; but time has not changed the core of this show.
Even Mamet’s own opinions on the work appeared bitterly laced with acid: “…as a callow youth with hay sticking out of my ears, I sold both the play and the screenplay for about $12;” this led to the majority of his subsequent productions being kept in check by his own production vehicle. Despite the fact that reference was alluding to the less than phenomenal “About Last Night” movie adaptation of this show; the subtext was clear. The artist did not want this to become his seminal work; he was much too smart for that. He knew that this tiny one act play which had helped propel him to prominence may be a step along the path but he did not want this to be the work about which his entire career was based and on which his name would be made.
Yet still, it is produced and still people take these four shallow characters down the road which was crafted for them and still it is troubling and missing the point and purely a vanity project.
Just ask Joe Kreimborg; the star and producer of this show. Mr. Kreimborg plays Danny Shapiro; an insecure office worker who is the morning after wingman of his more than outspoken co-worker, Bernie (Jeff Markey). Bernie tells the tales and Danny sits in awe. Even though we're introduced to him in the subordinate dynamic, Danny ends up hooking up with this woman, Deb (Agatha Nowicki) who probably sleeps with him because she is at a crossroads in her life. Deb is in a similar situation as Danny as she plays wing-woman to her spurned best friend. It may seem that this is the perfect situation for both Danny and Deb as they can help their friends come to terms with their insecurities. However this is not the case; Bernie has feigned interest in his friends real life relationships; Danny has just crossed Deb’s totally over the top best friend and roommate Joan (Necar Zadegan).
Such is the life of the dating masses; however it’s too bad that Joan and Bernie have their own ideas about losing their friends to the commitment and sacrifices which go along with steady relationships. Joan has been scorned; Bernie hyperbolizes his own sex life; neither one of them is comfortable losing their sounding boards to the “wah-wah” of pedestrian relationships.
In this production, Joan and Bernie seem to be the only one’s who have hit their stride. You always know what’s going on in their head; it could be the writing, which may be what Mamet was saying, but there seems to be another thing going on. Mr. Kreimborg, as the stated in the program producer, seems to have his own ideas about this character and hasn’t seemed to (I hope) listen to the director (Alex Feldman)
I can’t blame the director because when the star of the show is also the producer, they will do whatever they want. As a producer who has made a fool of themselves onstage before by not listening to a director, I know. However I can’t totally hold the director harmless; let’s just say that Mr. Feldman could have done more.
I understand that Danny is engendered in the text as “meek” and “shy” but the portrayal of Mr. Kreimborg of the character was totally obnoxious, unbelievable, and not current with the spirit of the times. It was the 70’s man! Their costumer, set dresser, and props person got things right; Mr. Kreimborg missed it. Specifically, he mumbled his lines, he talked to his shoulder, and there was this perpetual, effeminate, giggle which sprung up from his Danny which was his trademark sound and, in this text, gets a resounding thumbs down. Maybe if he’d “thrown it in” once or twice for effect; but it was like every other word. For Mr. Markey it must have been like yelling at a three year old!
Bernie was well played; his intensity transcended the babble; similarly with Ms. Zadegan; her portrayal of Joan as an untrusting, cynical, aggressive, and Girl-Power’ish woman, who is conflicted due to her overwhelming need for her friend, was well played. But Ms Nowicki was completely unmemorable. When Ms. Nowicki and Mr. Kreimborg were onstage together, it was like peeling back fingernails across a rusty chalkboard.
But maybe that’s the point. It seems like a young, inexperienced writer who would make observations and generalizations like this. So maybe, for all of our sakes, we had just better leave “Sexual Perversity in Chicago” on the shelf. As a period piece, it’s bearable. But even then, when we’re trying to move forward the discussion and get beyond certain stereotypes, it would seem necessary to leave certain works alone for a few hundred years, before we’re able to get to a point where revivals like this seem “quaint.”
Or you could just do whatever the fuck you want…heh-he!
http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qn4159/is_20030504/ai_n12739273
http://www.plays411.com/newsite/show/play_info.asp
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