Thursday, November 05, 2009

Brian Doig on the state of Lake City Playhouse


We got trouble, right here in Lake City. With a capital T, and that rhymes with P, and that stands for ...
Predicament. Because a predicament is what Lake City Playhouse is in.
"We were $40,000 in the hole when I started," says Brian Doig, who's in his fourth year as artistic director of Coeur d'Alene's community theater.
The deficit climbed to $80 and now $100K. But Doig remains guardedly optimistic, and for a number of reasons: the deficit is leveling out, audiences are growing, profitable musicals are on the way, and the recession isn't likely to get any worse for the financial-sector sponsors that LCP had been depending on in recent seasons.
Average audiences have climbed from 45 to 105 (and even higher, up to around 125, for musicals) in a converted-church of a theater that holds 170.
This year's Christmas show, The Little Princess, "almost sold out when we did it four years ago," says Doig. "And [director] Laura Little is as tireless in her promotional efforts as she is a talented director. It's a wonderful Christmas musical, and we're going to have Kent Kimball [Capt. von Trapp at the Civic two years ago] as the father.
They were selling tissues in the lobby the first time we did it, and I thought, 'Yeah, right....' But dude, you watch this show, you need the tissues."
Doig is philosophical about his theater's outlook. "As bad as things are, people are working hard. We are losing less. Last year, we lost five sponsors, who'd [sponsor] a night of a show for $1,500. But all our sponsors are investment firms, and they all got hit. If we just had those five, we would have made money last year for the first time in 10 years."
Tickets sales only cover about 60 percent to 70 percent of the theater's expenses.

But a guy can dream: Doig envisions, in the long term, the possibility of Lake City finding a location closer to the Sherman Avenue corridor (maybe somewhere around Fourth).
"It may seem dark and dim," Doig says, "but a lot of people are working really hard. And it's starting to respond -- we just need continued support."
"Frankly, for a few years, the product was inconsistent. But we're always trying to be better. At the same time, part of our mission is that we are a community theater -- and that means that we will have actors, sometimes, who are onstage for the first time."
And in an encouraging sign of cooperation among theater-lovers, says Doig, "we're starting to see more people from across the border involved" -- meaning that some prominent names associated with Spokane Civic Theater have offered to help Doig organize a fund-raiser sometime soon for LCP.
"People don't want to see another theater go down," Doig says.
"Right now, we're just focused on getting through this next season, with an eye on making it to our 50th. We're working hard to make sure that our 50th season isn't our last."

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*Dracula* continues through Sunday


at Lake City Playhouse, 1320 E. Garden St., Coeur d'Alene
Tonight through Saturday at 7:30 pm; closes on Sunday, Nov. 8, at 2 pm
Tickets: $16; $13, students and seniors
This is Steven Dietz's 1996 adaptation of Bram Stoker's 1897 novel, faithful to the plot and directed here by Rebecca McNeill. Chris Schwartz plays Van Helsing and Dave Rideout stars as the blood-sucker.
Call (208) 667-1323.
[ logo: from a Fall 2005 production at Northeastern Illinois Univ. -- "Your fear hemorrhages deliciously within you." ]

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*In a Grove* at SCC, Nov. 13-22

In a Grove: Four Japanese Ghost Stories, by Eric Coble
directed by SCC theater and film arts instructor Adam C. Sharp
Fridays-Saturdays, Nov. 13-14 and Nov. 20-21, at 7:30 pm
and Sundays, Nov. 15 and Nov. 22, at 2 pm
Spokane Community College, Lair Auditorium, Bldg. 6
Mission Ave. and Greene St.
"A hundred years, four stories, one village shrouded in mystery -- a play for the whole family"
Obosan is our guide and narrator. Other characters include Keizuke, who must keep a secret; the Oni demons, who may have something to fear from humans; Uta the singing monk; and Hyroku, the famished and desperate outsider.
Tickets: $5; $3, students and seniors; free, children
Call 533-7387
[ photo: Eric Coble, from doollee.com]
Coble, born in Scotland, went to Fort Lewis College and to Ohio University. Since 1994, he has written more than three dozen plays. In a Grove, from 1996, is one of his earliest. His Natural Selection was produced at Louisville's Humana Festival in 2005.

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audition for *Leader of the Pack*



on Monday-Tuesday, Nov. 9-10, at 6:30 pm
Harding Family Center, 411 N. 15th St., Coeur d'Alene
Callbacks on Nov. 11-12
Bring resume, photo and list of conflicts; be prepared to sing
Needed: four men; 10 women; extras
director: Marina Kalani
For the Lake City Playhouse production, Jan. 14-31
Leader of the Pack surveys the life and ('60s) times of Ellie Greenwich (who died on Aug. 26 at the age of 68 — the 1984 off-Broadway jukebox musical follows Ellie's life in Brooklyn and Queens, with characters based on Phil Spector and on Ellie's husband and songwriting partner, Jeff Barry)
Songs include the title tune, "Chapel of Love," "Da Do Ron Ron," "Be My Baby," "Hanky Panky," "Do Wah Diddy," and "And Then He Kissed Me."
[photo: from spectropop.com]

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Tuesday, November 03, 2009

Short plays at Auntie's, Nov. 14




Eight short plays by Sandra Hosking and Nick Stokes
in an evening called "Hit & Run II"
on Saturday, Nov. 14, at 2 pm
at Auntie's Bookstore, 402 W. Main Ave.
E-mail debutpromotions@cs.com or call 838-0206.

Nick Stokes is a Tacoma playwright. Sandy Hosking is co-playwright in residence at Spokane Civic Theatre; she has an MFA from EWU, is editor of Inland NW Homes & Lifestyles magazine, and has had her plays produced all over the U.S. and Canada.

In Stokes' two plays, sisters lie to each other and a couple relaxes at the beach.
In Hosking's six plays, an atheist seeks converts, Vikings have to downsize, a former couple's reunion is bittersweet, and a man must pay a ridiculous tax (among much else).
In addition, Hosking's 7-year-old son will recite a poem entitled "My Bug."


Actors at this staged reading will include Tony and Maria Caprile, Penny Lucas, Will Lund, Emily Hiller, Nina Kelly and Molly Parish. 

[photo: Nick Stokes, from artisttrust.org;
also from digital.library.upenn.edu -- "The Landing of the Vikings," from a 1917 book by Henrietta Elizabeth Marshall called This County of Ours: The Story of the United States]

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*Dearly Departed* at SFCC, Nov. 12-22

In this "redneck comedy" by David Bottrell and Jessie Jones, everybody in a Southern family starts bickering after an unexpected death.
Performances on Thursdays-Saturdays, Nov. 12-14 and Nov. 19-21, at 7:30 pm
and on Sundays, Nov. 15 and Nov. 22, at 2 pm
(canned food collected at the Nov. 15 performance)
SFCC, 3410 W. Fort George Wright Dr., Communications Bldg,, Bldg. 5, Spartan Theatre
with Daniel Varavin, Rushelle Provoncha, David Honeycutt, Katherine Kruse, Tony Morales, Merrin Field, Erin Schultz, Greg Collinge, Jamie Smith and Geoff Lange
directed by Sara Edlin-Marlowe
Donations requested (suggested donation: $8)
Visit the Spokane Falls Community College Theater program here
or call 533-3222.

[photo: from Psychology Today]

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audition for *Humbug*



In John Wooten's Christmas Carol comedy, Eleanor Scrooge is a power-hungry Wall Street executive with an aversion to Yuletide fun.
Director Theresa Kappus will be seeking eight men and six women in cold-reading auditions 
for an Ignite! readers theater production on
Thursday, Nov. 12, at 7 pm
at the Blue Door Theater, 815 W. Garland Ave.
Performances: Friday, Dec. 11, and Sunday, Dec. 13
Visit ignitetheate.org or call 993-6540.
[ photo: John Wooten, producing a.d. at Premiere Stages, housed at New Jersey's Kean University; visit them here ]

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Saturday, October 31, 2009

review of "*Chess,* in concert"


review of "Chess, in concert"
at Spokane Civic Theatre
Oct. 30-31, 2009
directed by Yvonne A.K. Johnson



I'm grateful to Yvonne Johnson and the Civic for delivering a concert-style production of a seldom-performed musical, and to all the singers and musicians and crew members who volunteered their time to make it happen. But Chess is only a partial success.

With lyrics by Tim Rice, a book by playwright Richard Nelson, and music by the ABBA guys, Chess has a decent pedigree.

There were problems with dynamics: In too many numbers, it was the singers vs. the orchestra (especially the horns and guitar) -- and the singers didn't win. The early, establishing numbers like "Freddie's Entrance" and "Press Conference" were almost disastrous in just being undifferentiated sonic onslaughts -- we weren't getting the information we needed to get situated. (Perhaps putting 13 musicians onstage instead of in the pit contributed to the problem? So did some mic failures early on -- but the latter half of the first act avoided that problem, largely by concentrating on simple piano accompaniment for ballads and more comprehendable lyrics.) Early in Act One, particularly, the passages of dialogue came as a relief: At last, quieter lines that we can understand.

The score is a mix of prosaic and forgettable songs with several highlights.
Too many songs in Chess are expository, like the opening "Story of Chess" and songs like "Merchandisers" and "Diplomats," which aim to inform more than to inspire. Fairly often in this show, people break out into song not because they're feeling any deep emotion, but because Nelson and Rice need to inform us some more about some detail of their plot.
It's a plot that, especially in the second act, starts to resemble a soap opera draped around a story of Cold War intrigue so as to personalize big forces that we might be too imperceptive to grasp. (Hence the CIA/KGB faceoff gets entangled in the more graspable love triangle of a woman torn between two grandmasters.)
Some of the highlights clustered in the middle of Act One: "Quartet" featured Molokov (Henry McNulty), the Arbiter (Tim Campbell), Florence (Andrea Dawson) and Anatoly (Jordan Gookin) singing precisely and in counterpoint, with the argument over chess rules raging but each voice distinct and powerful. "You Want To Lose Your Only Friend?" -- a duet for Robby French as Freddy, the brash American/Bobby Fischer figure, and the wonderful Andrea Dawson as Florence, the woman who gets caught in an international grandmaster sandwich -- was powerfully sung, with its "1956 and Budapest is falling" refrain taking us back to the wonderful opening image of a little girl, fascinated with chess pieces. And French rapped out the lyrics to "One Night in Bangkok," celebrating the lavish nightlife that Johnson's staging (slide show of international locales, a collection of flags with stars and stripes pitted against hammer and sickle) helped emphasize.
But there's more to this musical than just its one hit song."Terrace Duet" immediately follows, with Dawson and Gookin, in the course of just one tune, making clear why their characters mistrust each other but still start to fall, almost unwillingly, into love.
After Freddie has been pushed aside and lost the girl, French sits at the front of the stage for the self-pitying "Taste of Pity" -- recalling his moving sadness as Jesus in the Civic's Godspell last season, but in the service here of another song that tells rather than shows. Dawson finishes Act One impressively with "nobody on nobody's side," and then Gookin, as Anatoly, stands and delivers the "Anthem" to self-loyalty over patriotism: "My land's only borders lie around my heart." He's going to defect, and damn the consequences.



Act Two is about the consequences. A weakness in the book is bringing in Svetlana, Anatoly's estranged Russian wife. Emily Bayne sings expressively, but we've barely heard her name and suddenly, in three successive songs, we're supposed to care about the inner turmoil of her heart.
But those manipulations are more than made up for (after all, Florence and Anatoly will turn out to have been terribly manipulated by their governments) by Dawson's delivery of "Heaven Help My Heart" (praying in a church, troubled by what it will mean to fall for Anatoly). It's almost impossible to praise Dawson's talent too much; she's that good.
But soon after you recover after feeling exhilarated by Dawson's voice, the book falls into the trap of analogizing everthing to chess moves: "Don't we all make foolish moves?" and "It's your move now," and other facile chess comparisons, and we are supposed to Nod Knowingly at the Weighty Significance.
Gookin and Dawson share a lovely duet, the reprise of "You and I" (marred by Rice's habit of stepping in the lyrics on obvious rhymes), and we arrive at the rather unlikely denouement.

Bobo remembers Jordan Gookin as a gifted but still young comic actor who skilfully spoofed up a lot of comedies at Lake City Playhouse several years ago. He went to Lake Arrowhead (I think) in California and now has returned -- more mature, singing and acting well, glowering as the disaffected Russian and playing a lead dramatic role effectively. Welcome back, Jordan.

Henry McNulty, as the KGB agent who acts as the Russian chess player's "second" or consultant, conveyed Solzhenitsyn dignity in a manner that commanded respect.

All three principals -- French, Dawson, Gookin -- were impressive. I just wanted to hear them in the service of better (or at least more consistently compelling) material.
I wanted to like Chess more, I really did. I enjoy and dabble at chess; I like political intrigue; I remember Fischer vs. Spassky and later, glasnost and Gorbachev and all of it. I even like musicals with sad but meaningful endings, like this one. And this performance of Nelson's Broadway version (which over-talks a lot of plot points) left me wishing that Americans might be able to hear Trevor Nunn's 1986 London version (which has different locales, different plot details and a very different song list).
But a lot of it was over-loud wailing-screaming rock opera that was kind of like melodrama ... except that they were playing for high political stakes ... except that it's really just a love triangle thrown not very plausibly into the middle of an international power struggle ... except that there were several lovely songs performed by all three principals, especially Dawson as Florence ... except that many of the songs are neither hummable or memorable ... except that this show's goals are laudable ... except that it doesn't attain its goals.
A musical like Chess can leave a guy feeling seriously ambivalent.

One performance remains at the Civic: Halloween night from 7:30-9:45 pm. (You can still party afterwards.)

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Friday, October 30, 2009

correction: *String of Pearls* times

Bobo's print preview in the Oct. 29 Inlander got it wrong.
Sorry. 
Actual remaining performances:
Thursdays -- Nov. 5 and Nov. 12 -- at 7:30 pm
Fridays -- Oct. 30, Nov. 6 and Nov. 13 -- at 7:30 pm
Saturdays -- Oct. 31, Nov. 7 and Nov. 14 -- at 7:30 pm
Sundays -- Nov. 1, Nov. 8 and Nov. 15 -- at 2 pm
(There are no Saturday matinees.)

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review of "Pride and Prejudice*


[portrait of Jane Austen from english.upenn.edu]

The best things about Gonzaga's production of Pride and Prejudice (continuing tonight at 7:30 pm and on Sunday at 2 pm) are the stage adaptation of the novel by Marcus Goodwin (which he himself directed at Seattle's Book-It Rep Theater nine years ago) and the direction of Brian C. Russo, in keeping the traffic of so many Regency dandies and high-waisted gowns flowing.
The opening image is impressive: all five Bennet girls striding confidently right at us and sharing the famous opening line about "a single man in possession of a good fortune": At a stroke, the aggressive/precarious/desperate situation of the unmarried daughters is established.
There is much moving-about of furniture and clambering into and out of carriages, but Goodwin and Russo have managed to mingle scenes both crowded and intimate in a mostly fast-moving way. Several first-act scene transitions, however, lagged, slowing the pace; entrances should start before exits are fully completed.
The standouts in the cast are Brigid Carey -- showing range in dual roles, from the hands-thrown-up-and-shrieking society-gossip hysteria of Mrs. Bennet to the remote hauteur of Lady Catherine DeBourgh -- and Jason Meade as Mr. Darcy -- handsome and aloof at first, but gradually making the transition to a man willing to explain himself and show his vulnerabilities.
I'm no Austen expert, but it didn't appear that any major chunks had fallen out of Goodwin's stage version. Which is both a strength and a weakness. Somehow he encapsulates an entire novel in about 2:20 of running time (with intermission), and the pace has almost cinematic quickness. But no one reads P&P all at one go -- and being subjected to a crash course of country strolls and elaborate missives and squealing excitement and hands excitedly clasped in anticipation of the next gentleman caller ... well, I love Austen, but her talent is for the dry narrative observation (not easily included in a theatricalized version, though Goodwin includes several, announced presentationally by the actors). Austen's narrator's voice, of course -- even with the adapter working hard to preserve it -- is going to fall out of any stage version.

Russo shared with me that, when asked about the fall production, women in particular would repeatedly volunteer their personal connection with Austen's novel. And it's true: Elizabeth Bennet (played here by Millie Duchow, straining too much vocally but good at being feisty and self-assertive, as she was with in the title role of Shrew this summer) has to face familiar obstacles: overcoming her own misperceptions; fighting the restrictions of class and gender prejudice; fending off acquaintances who are snooty, superficial and stupid; enduring the insufferable self-regard of that damnably handsome (and rich!) Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth, in other words, provides a template for women's self-determination in a world with rules (all that curtseying and formal dancing and yes-Mum propriety).
Michael Barfield's unctuous Mr. Collins (the nerdy clergyman with no social skills and elevated self-image) was subtly comic: slight stumbles, twitchy mouth, out-of-step awkwardness, a wonderful mixture of ineptitude and self-confidence -- an awkward bear cub scampering among all the ladies with their pretty dresses.
John Hofland's set design sketched in Regency elegance with five large gilt frames depicting a mansion's exterior, the corner of a grand ballroom, and so on. With some inlaid designs surrounding a central wooden floor, and with Summer Berry's gowns and waistcoats depicting the formal wear of Austen's world, we got a strong sense of how constrained these people were by etiquette and propriety.
The second act dragged and the acting's uneven, but the Gonzaga Pride and Prejudice provides a Cliff's Notes reminder of what Austen's novel is like, and the many challenges that likeable Elizabeth faces and overcomes. Just old-fashioned chick lit? No. Universalized human experience performed so convincingly that the high stakes will be apparent to all? Not that either. The Goodwin/Russo Austen provides many amusing moments and scattered insights, but it's like getting hit with a hardback in the forehead: There's an overwhelming sameness when you drink your P&P all at once.

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Thursday, October 29, 2009

review of *Doubt*



at Interplayers Professional Theater
seen Oct. 28

Doubt — isn’t that the one about the nun and the priest, and she’s convinced that he’s a creepy child molester? I saw the movie — why bother seeing it again?
Because seeing it onstage, reduced to just four characters, is a more intense and psychological experience. Because Interplayers’ four cast members are uniformly fine in their roles. And because this is the best drama Interplayers has produced in the past three years (and probably in the past five).

Start with Aaron Murphy’s Father Flynn — East Coast Irish accent, all-American looks, the bemused look of a man who has something to teach you and knows he has a clever way to do it. We see him solo, alone, then suckered into a meeting with two nuns that’s not at all about what he thinks it is — the priest, marginalized in his own parish.
Murphy was so convincing, he put this former Catholic schoolboy right back in the confessional. When he ended his second sermon by making the Sign of the Cross, I came this close to joining him. (We laugh at these 1964 people and their exaggerated respect for the Church’s hierarchy -- but you know, once in 1962, when I was in first grade at St. Mary’s of the Assumption, I peered over the rectory wall and saw a priest, sunning himself. With his shirt off. And was immediately convinced, truly, that I had committed a mortal sin and would roast in hellfire eternally. Which is a hard thought for a 7-year-old to bear.)

Ann Russell Whiteman strolls with authority around her office desk, convinced utterly — convinced beyond all doubt — that Father Flynn must be stopped and the children protected. (There was much talk afterwards about how the show changes from night to night. And it’s true, this time it registered with me, the number of times she’s referred to as joyless, a Puritan, cold and unforgiving; at other moments, she can appear like a warrior for righteousness.)
Whiteman’s eyes glisten early on, when she plants suspicions in the young nun’s mind; Whiteman makes clear that Sister Aloysius is a bit too eager to be regarded as the most clever fox in the henhouse. No upstart young priest is going to outmaneuver her.

As Sister James, Bethany Hart uses subtle facial expressions to convey her wonderment, doubt, anger and sadness over what her superior is trying to do. As the mother of the young boy who’s supposedly the object of Father Flynn’s pederastic lust, Rebecca M. Davis plants herself in that office chair and scowls, even as she observes decorum. She mixes being deferential with being defiant (nicely sustaining the play’s ambiguity and balance), and the emotion’s contained but still evident.

Throughout this intermissionless chess game, what we’ve been waiting for is the faceoff of priest and nun in the penultimate scene. When it arrived, at first I thought Murphy was being weak, unassertive — until I grasped (so I thought, can’t be sure, still have my doubts) that he was wearing down under Sister Aloysius’s interrogation. The pendulum was swinging: In a performance in which, for most of the time, she had seemed joyless and vindictive — and he, cheerful and innocent — now our doubts about him were rising to the forefront. Sister’s methods may be Machiavellian (corrupt means, but valuable ends, she preaches) but maybe, just maybe, she has ferreted out corruption in the end.
Or not. Doubt is a mirror that shows us ourselves: inclined to trust others, or accuse them; inclined to forgive or indict. The value of such a production — especially in a Catholic town dominated by a Catholic university and its law schools’ many graduates, its parochial schools and G-Prep Bullpups, its own sad history of priestly sex abuse and coverups — is not only that it “takes you on an emotional journey,” but that the journey, quite likely, will differ from night to night.
Theater should piss some people off. Being inoffensive is not, forever and always, a virtue. When people get angry, somebody’s touched a nerve.

Roger Welch has directed seamlessly, with no fuss and with many of the most gripping speeches delivered while stock-still. Renae Meredith’s set includes a polished-wood square for the priest’s sermons, both in the pulpit and on the basketball court: an arena for the baring of our souls.

Certainty without evidence is faith. But when certainty, absolute conviction, turns past the point of being willing to hear contradictory opinions and evidence, it hardens into dogmatism. And Sister Aloysius — played by Whiteman with squinting, aloof, marble-cold implacability — is dogmatic for 89 of the show’s 90 minutes. By the end, even she has her doubts.
Shanley is taking aim at dogmatism of all kinds, religious and political — at one point, the actual line “You lie!” is shouted at the priest, and suddenly I was transported back to Obama’s health care speech before the joint session of Congress.

Overcome your doubts (it won’t be any good, I’ve seen it before, sex abuse is such a sad topic, people draped in black who lived 45 years ago have nothing new to tell me), and just go. Theater is transitory — this one goes poof on Nov. 7 — but for theater this good, attention must be paid. Cancel your bowling night, skip Mass just this once, whatever — but go see Doubt at Interplayers.

And yes, I’m influenced by how meaningful and good tonight’s post-performance talk-back was — actors articulate, questions observant, Reed McColm moderating like a pro. Theater of the kind we can and should be proud of. An important play, done with subtlety and intelligence. I could go on and on about this cast, and about how Whiteman and Murphy’s performances in particular are exceptional and accomplished. But just go see the show for yourself.
With this show about sin, the most apparent sin is that more people aren’t supporting this show.
Lake City on the verge, Interplayers teetering — if you value theater in this town, overcome the excuses of "no time," "no money." Overcome your doubts and just go see Doubt.

[image: movie poster, from tower.com]

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Wednesday, October 28, 2009

20 Questions ... well, about 14 Questions ... with Jean Hardie

Jean Hardie has been doing shows at the Civic for 28 years. She's currently appearing there in String of Pearls

First, let's do the bio.  Where did you grow up and go to school? First exposure to theater? Theater you did in high school and college?  How many years and shows at the Civic? How many years teaching at St. George's?  How many years with Box 'n' Hat?

            I was born over in Mount Vernon and lived in Anacortes until I was 8, then a year in LittletonColo., then on to Sacramentowhere I grew up. My father was a musician and my mother was a dancer; but by the time I came along, my father managed a dime store and played his saxaphone on weekends and my mother had opened her own little dance studio. There was always music and dancing around. I took tap and ballet from the time I was very young and danced in recitals, etc.  Apparently, I played Little Black Sambo’s Mother in our first-grade play, although my memory of it is somewhat vague. I was in one play in junior high and spent my high school years pining to be a cheerleader. But I did write — and act in — a lot of the skits for the pep rallies. 

I went to Sacramento City College after high school.  On my 18th birthday, my best friend and I decided to audition for the first play of the year. We were both so scared! Well, she got the lead and I got a small part — and that, as they say, was that. I was completely and utterly bitten by the “acting bug." I think I was in every production we did there for the next three years, including my first musical...the role of Alma Hix in The Music Man (“that woman made braaaazen overtures...”).  I went to Sac City for three years ... I lost a big part of one year to a bout of mono ... but although I dropped a lot of classes, I didn’t drop out of The Cherry Orchard. After those three years, I worked for a year and saved up money to go on to Sacramento State. Pete and I got married during that year. We also worked at the JayRob Playhouse, a community theatre in Sacramento which did all comedies. We ushered, did props, worked backstage, played small roles — and watched a lot of performances of a lot of shows ... great experience. And I was a member of a group of young performers — very much like Box ‘n’ Hat, actually — for about a year. 

On to State College. A lot of the same — did a lot of shows, but I was, in actuality, an English major. In 1970, the year we graduated, the Kent State shootings occurred.  That year sort of ended in a blur ... a bunch of us theater types formed a political sketch comedy troupe, and we ran around doing our show wherever we could — including the park downtown next to the Capitol building in Sacramento. I think we were somewhat disappointed that we never got arrested, although we did get asked to move on a couple of times. (It was a different world.) I got my degree even though I never really finished a couple of my classes. The professors accepted a write-up of our theatrical exploits in lieu of finals. Go figure.

          Upon graduation, a group of us — a lot of the same kids — decided we knew enough to start our own theatre ... and so we did. Major Gray’s Company was formed, and we did some pretty good shows over the next couple of years on the second floor of one of the few buildings left standing in Old Sacramento ... just before it got developed into quite a happening tourist destination. But by that time, Pete and I had moved up to Seattle. He got his master's in Design at UW. I worked and had daughter Joanna. Then, out of the blue, we were invited to move to Helena, Montana, where Pete worked as the resident designer at the Grand Street Theatre. I did lots of shows there and I had son Ian. In 1981, the job at Civic opened up, Pete applied and was hired; and we moved here. Our youngest son, David, was born here.

          Since 1981, at Civic Theatre, I have directed – and, where applicable, choreographed — somewhere around 33 shows. String of Pearls will be the 30th show that I’ve appeared in at Civic. I’ve also done shows for Spokane Children’s Theatre, Interplayers, CenterStage, and Valley Rep, but the Civic is certainly my theatrical home. 

            I directed the Box ‘n’ Hat Players for 20 years.  My daughter was one of the original players.  My youngest son graduated from the troupe in the last year I did it. A nice full circle. 

          I’ve been the Drama teacher at Saint George’s School for the last 13 years.  We do at least three mainstage shows a year out there ... so I guess you could say that I’ve done my fair share of theatre in Spokane. And I’m reasonably proud of most of it.

 

Let me be blunt and ask questions that you may certainly wish to overlook.  Right now, you're the ex-wife being directed by the second wife.  That sounds really awkward.  When was the divorce?  Was it a case of being terribly difficult to act anywhere near Peter for a few years, and then gradually becoming something that worked out?  (My sister got divorced after 20 years and four kids; for the following 20 years, she and the kids and her ex all lived in close proximity and interacted a lot, even as he remarried not once but twice. So I have some sense...)

I am bewildered as to why this should be of any interest; and I am somewhat offended at your asking this question at all, so I sort of waffled between:

a) forgetting about this whole interview; b) saying “none of your goddamn business, so fuck off"; c) politely skipping past it; or d) just going ahead and answering. 

          It’s not awkward at all. The divorce happened about 10 years ago. Things may have been awkward for a very short time for the family, but since our decision to end our marriage was predicated upon our remaining best friends, there wasn’t much point in being awkward, bitter, angry, etc. Peter and I have been a couple since 1966. The romance may have worn itself out, but the love and the friendship have not. I cannot imagine my life without him as a part of it. I think the world of Susan … always have; and I am gratified to see them so happy together. 

          If there has been any awkwardness, it has been from other people not knowing how to react; but that seems to have worked itself out. 

Anecdote: A few years ago, I ran into someone I hadn’t seen for awhile; and out of the blue, he asked me how my daughter was doing.  “Fine," I said. “Still out in Seattle, doing some performing, etc. etc.”

“But what about this show that she’s directing in the Studio Theatre?” he asked.

“Uh … no,” I said.

“But it says so right here,” he said, showing me the Studio brochure: “Susan Hardie.” As it dawned on him what he had said, he was pretty embarrassed. I thought it was pretty funny.

 

From your perspective as a drama instructor, what mistakes do young and/or beginning actors commonly make? 

Commonly – and very generally: They fail to pick up cues, so the pace drags; and yet, they rush through the moments that need time — they are afraid of pauses.

They speak too quickly — sometimes too softly — and don’t enunciate clearly enough.

Often, they see themselves inaccurately ... they think they are performing an action or a movement in a much bigger way than they really are, and it is difficult to convince them to give you more.

They wait too long to get their lines learned. They don’t think enough about what the character is really saying, doing, wanting, meaning, thinking, etc.... they don’t listen or react enough; and what comes out is line recitation.

They resent the fact that acting/performing/rehearsing is hard work, and they whine.

They lose things, a lot — scripts, props, costumes, schedules, you name it. Some young actors are arrogant and sure that they know more than you do ... they don’t realize that no matter how talented you are, you should stay open to listening and learning for as long as you live.

          All that being said, it is also a most rewarding thing for a teacher or director when they feel they have really taught or brought out something in a student or young actor. It can be really thrilling.   

 

We hear a lot that the audience for theater is aging, graying, dying out. Yet with Box 'n' Hat and at St. George's, you work all the time with young people who are enthusiastic about theater. Has the High School Musical phenomenon paid off, with musicals increasingly popular among teens today?  Or do they hunger for more contemporary (not Oklahoma!) and less cheesy (not HSM) musicals?  Or do teens today have so much entertainment competition (mp3's, videogames, YouTube, movies) that they truly are losing any taste for handcrafted, live entertainment (of the sort that theater provides)?

I thought you were sending me the first 10 questions ... there are at least three or four questions right here!

I don’t feel that I am qualified to speak to this question for the very reasons you state above. I work all the time with kids who are already crazy about theatre, performing, singing, dancing, acting – even directing and writing – and watching. Their appetite for what is “new” is unquenchable.  The interesting part is that often what is “new” to them is really old stuff.  I see this pattern over and over again.  They are all about the newest thing ... Wicked, Spring Awakening, In the Heights, etc. But if you play them a classic musical theater song from some vintage musical, they fall in love with that, too — they “discover” it all over again. It’s cute. 

           I will also go out on a limb and make another odious generalization by saying that a big difference between theater geeks today and young people of my generation is a layer of ironic awareness that we didn’t tend to possess. They recognize cheesiness and embrace it knowingly in all its cheesy glory. You might call it the Glee Effect. At the same time, they recognize great artistry, too. They are free to love it all – even things they know are bad – as long as they are gloriously, sincerely bad. 

          As always ... non-theater geeks — of any age — need not apply. They will just look at you as though you were speaking a foreign language. It’s always been that way, and it will always be that way. I imagine that the percentage of high school theater geeks has remained pretty stable over the years.      

 

What's the most important thing that you've changed your mind about? Why did you alter your opinion?

            Having kids.  When I was young, I didn’t want to have children. (So I’m glad I waited until I was a little older before having them.) I have to be honest and say that my opinion was altered for me when I got pregnant. None of the three kids were planned. One thing I haven’t changed my mind about, however, is that having children should be a personal choice and that it is a big serious business that should not be entered into lightly!

         

What's your best idea for getting more people to attend theater?

            Get Hugh Jackman, Jude Law, Kristin Chenoweth, Bernadette Peters, Sutton Foster and Cheyenne Jackson to come to your town and be in one of your shows. Or get them to read the phone book. (You could probably sell tickets to watch them brush their teeth.) In general, I would say that most people are cautious about putting out the price of a theater ticket unless they are reasonably sure it’s going to be worth it ... hence, the cult of stardom. I do recognize the impracticality of this idea, however, and doubt that it’s going to happen.

          Beyond that, I haven’t the slightest idea. Do good theatre? Sure — but it’s no guarantee. Do well-known plays and musicals? They’ll be sure-fire hits ... unless they aren’t. Do new and exciting works? Create buzz? Great! But will it actually translate into ticket sales? THERE IS NO ANSWER TO THIS QUESTION. If there were, theaters would be filled to capacity for every performance.

You do the best theater you can, get the word out as best you can and hope for the best. It’s a hard fact to accept that a great many people just don’t care for live theater. If we’re lucky, a few of them will give it a try and develop a taste for it, but most won’t. What seems magical and meaningful to us just isn’t attractive or interesting to most people. I think it feels like it’s going to be too much work or something.  That’s how it is. 

          Still ... more local media coverage couldn’t hurt. 

         

Think of all the shows you've done at the Civic — rehearsals, onstage, backstage, in the green room, the fiascoes, the relationships, all of it. Please specify your three favorite exact memories from your years at the Civic.

            One: On opening night of the very first run of Nunsense, during the last number of the first act, I did this little jump and pulled a muscle in my calf — I swear I could hear a “ping." I really couldn’t put any weight on it at all. I hobbled through the rest of the number in a blur. During intermission, we iced it and wrapped it and someone found me a cane. I really don’t remember who, but I owe this person a debt of thanks, because from that moment on, the cane became an integral part of Mother Superior as I play her.

During the second act of Nunsense, there is a scene in which Mother Superior is very angry at the other sisters and orders them to follow her offstage — presumably to do some kind of penance. At that precise moment, I remember thinking, “I’ve always wanted to do this.” I fixed them with a serious stare and said, “Walk this way.” Then I turned and limped off thinking, “If they don’t pick up on this, I’ll kill them!” They did. They limped off after me. The audience laughed – a lot – giving me a reason to whip around and almost catch them at it.  They – Marilyn Langbehn, Deanna Stover and Jennifer Jacobs – played it perfectly. We kept it in, and it always got a wonderful laugh, but there was something really cosmic – almost magical – about that first time.

          Two:  Watching my daughter play Maria in West Side Story in 1995. I think I was there for all but two or three performances. I had choreographed a production of WSS in Montana about 10 years earlier. She went to a lot of rehearsals with me and saw the show several times. I didn’t know it at the time, but she dreamed then of playing that part someday. I was thrilled and proud and awestruck by her performance. 

          Three: Every summer for the past 13 years, we have done summer camp shows at Civic. Several years ago, I began to write an original script for the Main Stage camp show each summer.  The first truly and completely original script I wrote was called Portrait of Love. It is still my favorite of all the scripts I have written. It involved paintings in a museum coming to life after-hours and interacting in the lives of the “real” people. During the show, there is a moment when the Woman in the Red Dress, who has spent the day in the “real” world, must now return to her painting. As Alli Standley moved back into place behind the painting, the lighting effect worked perfectly so that the portrait appeared to go from being flesh and blood to paint and canvas. The audience gave a collective oooh-aaaah. It was such a thrill! 

 

My guess is that you're very well read.  So what's on your night stand now?  Last good book you finished?  And what, in all her extensive free time (ha!), does Jean Hardie do in the way of hobbies?

            I am not well read at all. In fact, I am appalled at how little I read now compared to my younger years. So my stack of things to read is enormous and I will never work my way through it. I am particularly fond of biographies. Most recently, I finished a bio of Stephen Sondheim and have worked my way through most of James Lipton’s memoirs. I devoured the Harry Potter books and cannot deal with the reality that there won’t be any more. I read Entertainment Weekly every week. Right now, I’m reading the script of String of Pearls every day ... so that — and keeping up with all the dancing shows on TV — keeps me pretty busy.

Other hobbies? Well, honestly, theater is my hobby and my greatest passion; but I also love to do some crafty things with beads and decoupage when I have a little extra time. Oh, hell, let’s be really honest ... if it wasn’t for Spider Solitaire, I’d have time to take over the world!    

 

You get to meet your 18-year-old self. What advice do you have for her? Would she listen to you?

Well, aside from the obvious — eat less, exercise more and don’t forget to floss — I would say:

          Make bolder choices. Don’t be so afraid of failure: “Stink with authority.”

          Learn to handle rejection better. Don’t get so upset. Don’t take it so personally: “Deal with it and move on.”

          Learn not to care so much about what other people think of you. Don’t be afraid of making a fool of yourself: “To thine own self, be true.”

          Deal with who you really are, not who you wish you were: “Know thyself.”

 

She would want to listen — she would recognize the truth and wisdom of the advice — but since she is still struggling with these issues even today, I’d say it’s unlikely that she would be able to implement the advice in any practical way. 

 

Please describe the half-dozen characters whom you play in String of Pearls. What do you know about one (or some) of them now that you did not know before rehearsals began?

Four of my characters are quite small in terms of lines and stage time. I play a down-to-earth housekeeper, a Tunisian woman who pretty much leeches off her niece, a judgmental Jewish mother and a knowledgeable jewelry store owner. These four are really just snapshots in the stories told by the other women in the play.

In rehearsal, we have talked quite a bit about how these minor characters are, metaphorically, some of the grains of sand which cause the irritation in an oyster that ultimately turns into a pearl. It’s a lot of fun to put on a costume and turn into someone else for less than a minute. You have a lot of freedom to make bold choices. You are the stuff of memory; and memory has distilled you down to what is most vivid to the rememberer. 

          My other two characters are ones who get to tell their stories. One is Ela, a Wisconsin divorcee and the other, Dora, a cultured New Yorker.

Each character tells of a set of experiences that bring about big life changes and which are, in some way, affected by the almost mystical power of this particular string of pearls. Since both women are, I think, very different from me, I’ve learned almost everything I know about them since rehearsals began. Before the auditions, all I really knew was that there were some pretty freakin’ long monologues in this puppy.  Now that the monologues have become stories, I’m surprised every night by how quickly the time goes and how soon I have to say goodbye and leave the stage. As always, I have also learned — again — that no matter how different someone may be from you, you will inevitably find something you have in common with the character.

I can certainly relate to Ela’s wounded self-esteem and her need to hibernate for a while. And like Dora, I fear the hidden power of the past. There are things we both want to keep at bay; and when they bubble to the surface, that’s going to be a difficult day.

There is both joy and agony in doing such a challenging piece as String of PearlsIt’s a joy to get to immerse yourself in the world of these characters, but an agony to have the fear that you won’t do them justice on the stage. But I am seeing a quality of work in this cast and crew that makes me very proud and happy to be part of this show.




[photo: baby Jean]
[photo at top: Jean Hardie and Robert Wamsley in Barefoot in the Park, at the Civic, Jan. '08  -- "a picture that actually I really like a lot" ]

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Lake City Playhouse needs your help



A CdA Press article specifies the problem: more than $100,000 in debt, attendance much improved but still only at 105 per show; struggling to get through its 49th season to make it to its 50th.
What can you do? Attend *Dracula* (Oct. 29-Nov. 8) and/or *The Little Princess* (Dec. 3-20). Call (208) 667-1323.

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*Take Me Out* at Gonzaga, Nov. 11-13



What if a player very much like Alex Rodriguez (or Derek Jeter?), while playing for a team very much like this year's World Series-bound New York Yankees, casually let drop during a press conference that he's gay? What if he were so self-assured (and even arrogant) that he assumed no one would really care? And what if he then became the idol of gay men across America -- and the cause of deep, deep discomfort among conservative (and even homophobic) players, both in his own team's locker room and on opposing teams?

The Gonzaga Readers Theater Project presents Richard Greenberg's play (which ran in New York in 2002-03), directed by Gonzaga Prep principal Kevin Connell and performed by Gonzaga University actors, on Wednesday-Thursday, Nov. 11-12, at 7 pm and on Friday, Nov. 13, at 10 pm (yes, 10 pm) in the Magnuson Theater at the east end of College Hall, on the GU campus at 502 E. Boone Ave. Donations requested; definitely NOT for children.

In an intriguing bit of casting, Steven Gray (the 6-5 junior guard from Bainbridge, Wash., on the Zags' basketball team) will be reading the central role of Darren Lemming, star centerfielder of the New York "Empires."

[ photo: Steven Gray, two years ago as a freshman, when he had broken his wrist early in the season; from slipperstillfits.com ]

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Tuesday, October 27, 2009

*Sin (A Cardinal Deposed)*



readers theater at Interplayers on Sunday, Nov. 1, at 2 pm (Pacific Standard Time; Daylight Saving Time ends at 2 am on Sunday, late on Halloween night); written by Gonzaga grad Michael Murphy
about the 2002 deposition of Cardinal Bernard Law of Boston

[ photo: Cardinal Bernard Law at a Boston press conference; from billingsgazette.com and AP ]

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*Doubt* at Interplayers













through Nov. 7; directed by Roger Welch
with Aaron Murphy as Father Flynn, Ann Russell Whiteman as Sister Aloysius, Bethany Hart as Sister James, and Rebecca Davis as Mrs. Muller

*Pride and Prejudice* at Gonzaga



Performances still remaining on Thursday, Friday and Sunday
Directed by Brian Russo

Gonzaga University Theatre presents Pride and Prejudice • Friday, Oct. 23, at 7:30 pm; Saturday, Oct. 24, at 2 pm; Thursday, Oct. 29, at 7:30 pm; Friday, Oct. 30, at 7:30 pm; and Sunday, Nov. 1, at 2 pm • Tickets: $12; $10, Gonzaga staff; $4, students Gonzaga, Harry and Colleen Magnuson Theatre • 502 E. Boone Ave • Call: 313-6553

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"Chess, in Concert"














at the Civic, Friday-Saturday, Oct. 30-31, at 7:30 pm
Tickets: $30



Music by Bjorn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson (of ABBA)
Lyrics by Tim Rice
Book by Richard Nelson
Written and composed in 1983. Concert version premiered in London, October 1984. Stage version premiered in London, May 1986. Broadway premiere, April 1988.
(set in Budapest in 1956, and then, in 1988, in Bangkok, New York and Budapest
Directed by Yvonne A.K. Johnson
Conducted by Max Mendez (leading a 13-piece orchestra)

with Robby French as Freddie the American, Jordan Gookin as Anatoly the Russian, and Andrea Dawson as Florence
and with
Bob Farner as Gregor Vassey, Henry McNulty as Molokov, David Williams as Nickolai, Gary Pierce as Walter, Tim Campbell as Arbiter, Emily Bayne as Svetlana, Mark Schurtz and Nathan Heard as embassy officials, Todd Kehne as Ben, and Caroline Slater as Young Florence
Ensemble: 
Bob Farner, Nathan Heard, Todd Kehne and Henry McNulty; Tim Campbell, Gary Pierce, Mark Schurtz and David Williams; Sallie Christiansen, Kate Cubberley, Janean Jorgensen, Bonni Kealy, Ryan Patterson, Manuela Peters and Barb Tappa; and Cynthia Bauder, Maureen Kumakura, Darnelle Preston and Rose Waterbury

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Downloadable theatre



Bryan-Appleyard in the London Times reports on a new Website, digitaltheatre.com, at which, for $14, you can download hi-def, well-shot recent British productions.

Appleyard's first two paragraphs are a wonderful, concise explanation of why live theater is valuable and, on the other hand, why most "filmed plays" seem so listless and dead.

They use up to 13 cameras and multiple live-performance shots to "capture" the performances. You need to have Adobe and then download a DT Player, but three shows are already available, and more are coming from the likes of the RSC, the Royal Court and the Almeida.
Charles Spencer in the Telegraph weighs in here.

[ photo: from Regents American College London, bacl.ac.uk ]

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Monday, October 26, 2009

*String of Pearls*: photos

at the Civic's Firth J. Chew Studio Theater through Nov. 15


Sara Denison as Zoe the nasty 3-year-old in Michele Lowe's String of Pearls, at Spokane Civic Theater (Oct.-Nov. '09); photos by Young Kwak for The Inlander


Left to right: Randy (Sara Denison), Wanda (Kate Vita), Ela (Jean Hardie) and Linda (Tami Rotchford) in String of Pearls at the Civic: "The Divorced White Witches from Shorewood" contemplate going skinny-dipping in Lake Michigan. 

Tami Rotchford and Jean Hardie:









Directed by Susan Hardie
with
Jean Hardie as Woman One (Hallie, Ela, Aunt Patty, Dora, Gloria, Jeweler)
Kate Vita as Woman Two (Beth, Wanda, Helen, Erica, Abby)
Tami Rotchford as Woman Three (Roberta, Linda, Josianne, French Saleswoman, Kyle)
Katie Carey as Woman Four (Amy, Denise, Stephanie, Victoria, Kyle's Mother
Sarah Denison as Woman Five (Beverly, Randy, Zoe, Jitters, Cheryle, Cindy)

** Bobo's preview for Thursday's Inlander refers more to Michele Lowe's four-actress casting of roles than it does to this five-actress arrangement; his fault entirely. 

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review of *The Servant of Two Masters*


Oct. 24 at OSF in Ashland

The improv bits, which were brilliant and amazing, extended the normal run time of the 18th-century Goldoni farce (adapted here by director Tracy Young) by 45 minutes on Saturday night.
Which was both a delight and disadvantage.
We opened with a commedia troupe in mid-rehearsal, bickering over budget cuts and the sad state of our economy. The power kept cutting out (especially during juggling acts and swordfights that would have been just amazing, if only we could have seen them). Costumes still had tags on them; props had to be pulled out of trunks from some other play. Allusions to all the other OSF plays and current political figures ensued. So far, just fine, but not anything you couldn’t have seen done with equal gusto at your local theater.
But a commedia romp like Goldoni’s — with its prefabricated bits of shtick and its impossibly convoluted plot (with a woman disguised as her brother, to get the dowry due him before his supposed murder, and romance popping up among both masters and servants, and poor Harlequin/Truffaldino, the title character, stuck with dual loyalties and an always-hungry stomach) — holds the promise of unexpected comic gems.
The first bit had Truffaldino (Mark Bedard) lamenting how hungry he was and begging the audience for a sandwich -- never expecting that anyone would actually have one. (It was peanut butter and jelly. They ended up eating half of it and then stomping on it. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t scripted.) There was a teacher, looked like Dr. Andrew Weil, in the front row, who turned out to be more of a card than the professional clown. When the chief jokester took up a collection at intermission, hoping for lots of candy, the crowd really responded. The comic stereotypes were lots of fun: A pink-haired, air-headed ballerina (that afternoon’s Helena in All’s Well). The effeminate young lover, more interested in his own Three Musketeers lace than he is in his girl. Pantalone and Il Dottore. A Mandy-Patinkin-in-Princess Bride type.
The pace was hyper-energetic, even breath-taking, with Truffaldino making diving catches of food heaved at him from the upper playing levels. (This show was in the round at the New Theater; All’s Well had been in the thrust; the other three I saw here were at the 600-seat Bowmer.)
I wasn’t particularly in the mood for silliness (though I thought I was, it being Saturday night and all) — maybe because this was, counting two plays I’d seen in Spokane before leaving, my ninth play in 11 days.
It’s difficult to be consistently funny for more than three hours. And Truffaldino was spoofing so much with audience members that it extended all the fun, though almost unnoticeably.
The running joke was that everyone was deathly afraid of the tiny woman playing the cook —with a giant setup like that, there had to be a payoff, and it was both hilarious and gory.
A lot of inspired comedic moments flew past so quickly that you could barely register them.

[photo: from Oregon Shakespeare Festival -- Elijah Alexander as Florindo and Mark Bedard in the title role in The Servant of Two Masters, directed by Tracy Young, March-Nov. 2009]

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Sunday, October 25, 2009

review of *All’s Well That Ends Well*


directed by Amanda Dehnert
Oct. 24, at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

A bare, autumnal tree -- the focus of Christopher Acebo’s set for
All’s Well -- conveys the play’s mixed mood: a place of decline, a place to play. (There’s a tree swing for cavorting and meditation, and director Amanda Dehnert has strung a sheet nearby for showing outdoor nickelodeon films (for the scene transitions, like old-timey silent-film title cards, with the voice-overs themselves becoming part of the fun and joking).
Kjerstine Rose Anderson plays Helena with the spunky-gangly-adorable mannerisms of Anne Hathaway in the
Princess Diaries movies: the self-doubting Ugly Duckling morphs into the self-assured princess who’s worth more than the prince she’s chasing.
(Bobo has a vexed, puppy-dog relationship with
All’s Well: He first heard it on an LP record in the ‘70s, and the sound of Vanessa Redgrave’s voice pleading for Bertram to return her love made my teenage self wonder if there was any girl out there who would ever, ever feel that way about me. I would imagine every line and trick of her favor. But I have grown old, and Vanessa even older. The imaginary love-relationship we had is gone, and I must sanctify her relics.
My point being: I have a reverential view of Helena, the self-negating, determined, selfless, loving young woman who really ought to step out of the pages of my collected Shakespeare, dump Bert and kiss me.)
But Dehnert’s production showed me something new about a play that’s close to my heart (cold, remote Ian Charleson in the BBC TV version; Laird Williamson’s Raphaelite production for PCPA in Santa Maria in ‘82, with the young lovers shadowed by angels wherever they went, and a tawny autumnal beauty for the Italian scenes; the World War I setting of the ‘92 production here in Ashland, with Luck Hari as Helena, separated from Bertram by class and race).
Dehnert goes with just nine actors, with Armando Duran (Eddie Carbone last year, this year’s Don Quixote) as Lavache/Clown/presenter and multiple roles, cueing the voiceover films, shambling about like a Chaplin clown, switching among roles and playing the Interpreter who taunts poor humiliated, treacherous Parolles (John Tufts, who was Puck here last year, and the angry young actor Sharpe in the
Equivocation crew -- Tufts ranged from effete prissiness when the braggart soldier was in the ascendant to a look of such utter humiliation, when he was shamed into his nadir, that it evoked pity just to look at him).
The shorthandedness (of only having nine in the cast) only showed when the Clown had to play all the suitors whom Helena rejects at court before making Bertram her choice of husband; and when Lafew rather inexplicably shows up as a member of Bertram’s troop, so that there’d be someone else up there taunting Parolles and listening to his shameful, cowardly confession.
But Dehnert was brilliant in several spots, and this was the best-directed show I’ve seen on this trip (or in a long time): Helena showing her tomboy side by delivering the I-adore-Bertram speech early on while climbing the tree and then hanging upside-down from it. Just before intermission, Dehnert brilliantly intercut two separate speeches of Helena (worried that she has exposed Bertram to war) and of Bertram (worried that he has chosen the wrong life for himself -- in the realms of love and war, respectively, they each face even bigger hurdles than they had anticipated.
A real strength: how the humiliation of Parolles anticipates the humiliation of Bertram in the final scene - and how, conversely, Helena had been humiliated much earlier, when Bertram publicly rejects her hand in marriage.
Dee Maaske and James Edmondson as the Countess and King of France, both elderly now but still powerful. Sadness in their faces, authority in their voices. (The curing of the king done ritualistically, with Helena laying out all her father’s magical potions, but not until after she had wandered into the throne room in Harry Potter robes, fallen flat on her face in abject awe, but soon after faced up to the old codger king and challenged him: my life upon my dad’s abilities -- and promise me a husband while you’re at it, Mr. King.)
Diana and her mother costumed as in some Italian Riviera movie of the ‘50s.
But most important of all:
Dehnert has coached Danforth Comins into being the most likable Bertram I’ve ever seen. Still a schmuck, still full of himself and needing to grow, but basically good, blinded by the class system, appreciative of Helena and now awed into what she has done to pursue him and brought to tears, brought low, brought to the level he needs to be at to give himself over, truly, to another human being who loves him in return.
Finally, Dehnert wisely rejects the King of France’s lame Epilogue, replacing it instead with the newlyweds on a picnic blanket, gazing at home movies, watching their son grow (Helena’s visibly pregnant for the last couple of scenes), with the Clown, under that autumnal tree, reciting one of the procreation sonnets (No. 17, a young woman felt sure after) about the beauty of living on and having our children live after us. ("the beauty of your eyes" "were some child of yours alive that time ..." especially appropriate, with their son cavorting in the home movie)

From Dehnert’s wise program note:
All’s Well That Ends Well. Does It mean Everything That Happens Is All Right as Long as It Comes Out All Right in the End? I would rather this: All Sorts of Things Will Happen, but They’re All Part of How We Make Our Ending.”

Things don’t happen to us; we choose our own plots. Helena works hard at hers, and we should do the same. Tales of young love have lessons even for those whose love is old and autumnal.
[written less than an hour after the show. I really need not to go to these things alone]

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Saturday, October 24, 2009

upcoming ... oh, just random stuff

1.  Bobo intends to review Doubt at Interplayers just as soon as he gets back and sees it — at the Wednesday, Oct. 28, performance, which will be followed (as will the Nov. 4 performance) with Catholic priests (and, presumably, interested hangers-on from the audience).

2.  Beautiful fall weather in Ashland, not that you asked. A bit more blustery and cloudy today. But not complaining: Yesterday between shows, went on one of my favorite runs, leaf-strewn/babbling brook Lithia Park in Ashland -- all uphill on the way out, but you can bomb the downhill on the way back. Not a trace of tremor cordis.

3.  For space and personnel reasons, we had to hold the preview of String of Pearls at the Civic until the Oct. 29 issue. (Guess I'd better write it.) Will see and blog-review the show this weekend.

4.  Another "20 Questions ..." with a local actor is in the works. (Hey, I do this in my spare time, folks.)


5.  At Powell's Bookstore in Portland, the men's room has a condom machine. Just in case the redhead in the art history section decides that she wants to browse more than just books. A funny location for a condom dispenser, no? Are book readers so scarce that they've become kind of sexy? (Long ago, this was my Revenge of the Nerds fantasy. Didn't quite work out for me that way -- though Dannie, Long-Suffering Wife of Bobo, went on her second-ever date with her future spousal unit [that would be me, Bobo -- back in 1986] to see Ron Leibman and Jessica Walter in Tartuffe at the old L.A. Theater Center in the Garment District.)



6.  Special-ordered and read Lynn Nottage's Ruined, then remembered that OSF is doing it next year. It's Mother Courage in the Congo. Cast of 11, plus extras; all African, one Lebanese. Three songs, with lyrics by Nottage; special effects include parrot calls at pivotal moments that, I would imagine, will be challenging for sound mixers.
In the middle of a brutal civil war, Mama Nadi runs a bar/brothel. She's indifferent to the girls who are coerced into whoring (Nottage and Kate Whoriskey interviewed rape victims in the Congo), but of course sees the light, has a heart, forges a new future in the end.
I don't want to be cynical. Ruined brings to light the abuses and degradation of life in a land far from our own. Days after reading it, however, it feels too rounded off, too rotely optimistic at the end, with a couple of the relationships resolved, and (at least on the page) not that much hint in the finale that a brutal war is still raging. (As with The Illusion, however, I'm always willing to get behind a script that plays better than it reads.)

7.  I forgot to mention the call-to-action in Equivocation (and how it reflects on Ruined): At one point, Cecil makes Shag face his audience, belittling theater by saying that plays simply entertain people without moving them to actually do anything. And Bill Rauch raised the house lights just a tad, just enough to let us know that, at that moment, we were the ones being looked at under the microscope.
I'd felt a similar twinge days before in reading Ruined: genocidal wars, horrific poverty, the nightmare of rape being used as an instrument of war ... and what exactly have I done, personally, to alleviate those horrors? Exactly nothing.
Theater changes people's lives only in those rare cases when the theatergoers choose to take action.
Equivocation does the same in making its parallels between the torture at the Tower of London and the torture at Abu Ghraib: You can't really blame Dickhead Cheney and Stunted Bush unless you yourself spoke out.
Convicted.

8.  The lead art for OSF's 2010 season? "What a piece of work is man" -- with a photo of Spokane's own Dan Donohue, who's going to play guess which Danish prince next year. (Jude Law, stay on the East Coast.) 

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review of *Macbeth*


[photo: Who needs the damn spot to get washed out now? 
sfgate.com: Peter Macon and Robin Goodrin Nordli will be your hosts tonight -- and they always have such charming dinner parties at the Macbeths']

review of Macbeth
Oct. 23, at OSF

In a production, better than most, of a notoriously difficult-to-stage tragedy, director Gale Edwards has underscored the play’s obsession with doubleness and equivocation and has scoured the text in order to make inventive changes.
The three witches — looking rather silly in white fright wigs — have their opening incantation intercut with bustling swordplay battles. Macduff subs in for the Bloody Sergeant who reports Macbeth’s first victory, giving the Thane of Glamis’s biggest rival a more prominent part early on. Fleance is characterized at first as a mama’s boy, unwilling even so much as to touch his daddy’s (Banquo’s) sword; later on, he escapes a murder attempt, of course, grows a pair and joins in the gathering of jackbooted, quasi-Nazi military types who crowd the final scene — just in time for the three witches, in Edwards’ final image, to extend their arms right at him. (At least I think it was him; if not, it was Donalbain, Malcolm’s brother, with Edwards echoing the ending of Roman Polanski’s 1971 “Playboy” film — either way, the point is that the cycle of vengeance and ambition’s murders will go on, just as we’re told they have in the opening, with all the business about the Thane of Cawdor’s treachery and Macbeth’s sudden ascent).
Lady Macduff joins her husband in the knocking-after-the-murder scene, likewise giving her some earlier stage time before she gets killed off by Macbeth’s henchmen (here, by being forced to swallow gasoline).
There were also three junior witches (unexplained, really, unless they are the future generation of witchcraft) and some cool effects with pulling the specters of children and crowned kings out of the central cauldron.

[photo: from oregonlive.com; one of the little-girl junior witches dangles a dagger before the eyes of Peter Macon as Macbeth]


Another definite highlight was Scott Bradley’s set, with lava rock rimming the stage’s front (but with skeletal bones sticking out here and there), then an inlaid marble charm circle, black and starred, in which both the Weyward Women and their human avatars, Mr. and Mrs. Macbeth, can conjure evil and perform their spells; and finally, a grand curving staircase, deformed and finally giving out, its railings crazily jutting out like twisted railroad ties, leading up to a bumpy, out-of-kilter ramp, supported only by angular, skimpy bars and boulders, leading up to the room where Duncan’s throat is slit.
Bobo didn’t see Peter Macon’s Othello here last summer, but his Macbeth gave the general impression: stalwart and stocky, bass-voiced, rolling eyes for sarcasm and for disbelief, an almost hair-trigger athleticism, high-pitched vocal tricks to add comedic daubs here and there. As with the rest of the show, Macon’s performance displays much to admire and some to dislike.
Macon commands attention and has an amazing vocal instrument. After the Act Four meetup with the witches and the parade of freaky children with hydrocephalous, oversized heads, he runs around with the witches’ painted hand-imprints on him, some weird necklace jangling around his neck: a man possessed.
The final sword battle with Macduff has Macon walking off, swordless, nihilistic -- until Macduff uses the same taunt (you’re such a scaredy-cat) that Lady M. had used earlier to goad her husband on. It was more of a death-wish final battle than I’d seen before, with Macbeth, defiant to the last, spitting at his tormentors before they surrounded him and -- in about as realistic a manner as I’ve ever seen onstage -- beheaded him and lofted his “head” above on swordpoint.
But Macon overdoes the athleticism. This is a Macbeth who can’t swagger offstage or pace determinedly -- he’s always running, even near the depressed end, at one point, in an affected way, kicking his lead foot out in front, parallel to the ground, preparing for an exit with a stylized goose-step.
Robin Goodrin Nordli (the best Viola I’ve ever seen, anywhere, and brilliantly hilarious last summer here in the title role of The Further Adventures of Hedda Gabler; not to mention I’ve long had a crush on her, though she’s married to Michael Elich, who’s playing Harold Hill in The Music Man here this season, and who I saw walking through the lobby, unnoticed, even as his face was on large video screens touting this year’s shows) ... Nordli may have relied on comic mannerisms too much too early. She’s a beautiful blonde who looks great in formal gowns, even if Murell Horton’s design for the banquet scene made Mrs. Macbeth resemble, a bit too much, the evil stepmother in Sleeping Beauty.
I would have preferred more icy control in the early persuasion scenes -- right after warning her husband not to betray their intentions with his behavior (“To alter favor ever is to fear”), Nordli stage-grimaces at the first hint of Duncan’s credulously relying on the Macbeths’ hospitality. They got the passion right (making out, sprawling on the staircase upon his first returning home).
The sleepwalking scene, however, was highly effective: torn white baggy sleeping gown, hair down, face smeared, freaky eyes, not overdone.
But Macbeth may just be an impossible play to get entirely right: the familiar lines, the Grand Guignol, the occasional attempts at humor seeming self-conscious, the one deliberate attempt at humor (the Porter) relying on contemporary allusions that you’d have to look up in footnotes unless you had seen Equivocation just that afternoon.

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Friday, October 23, 2009

review of *Equivocation*

Equivocation by Bill Cain
at OSF; in its final week



Bill Cain’s Equivocation — about Will Shakespeare being pressured by the Jacobean government to write a propaganda piece glorifying the prevention of the 1605 Gunpowder Plot, and how Will found a way instead to incorporate chunks of what he discovered into the play we know as Macbeth — is an extraordinary play, on the same level as another re-envisioning and bending of a Shakespearean tragedy, Tom Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead.
Cain’s play is also gaining productions elsewhere, and with just six actors and a plain, neutral set, there are practical and artistic justifications for doing it extensively.
I learned more from Cain’s play about the Big Shake, life among the King’s Men, James I and Robert Cecil, Shake’s daughter Judith, the Elizabethan/Jacobean police state, and Abu Ghraib than I did in all the books I studied in grad school.
Yes, Abu Ghraib — because weapons of mass destruction, going into war based on a lie, “justifications” for torture, terrorism, and destroying democracy in order to save democracy are all over this play.
It’s like Stoppard in another way: You gotta do your homework. In Cain’s play, Sir Robert Cecil wows Shakespeare by saying that his plays will live on “for another 50 years.” And the issue of how long a play will run, of posterity, crops up a lot. Well, Ros & Guil is one of Sir Tom’s most popular; Equivocation will have a long highbrow shelf life -- not enduringly popular in the mainstream, but with real legs for those who are willing to research the politics of England from 1533 to 1606. (August:Osage County gives us, today, ourselves; Equivocation is about people in the history books.)



For such a cerebral play, it has calls to action and even moments that evoke compassion and sentiment: “Shag” cradling the head of a young married, tortured conspirator suddenly morphs into Shakespeare cradling the head of his son Hamnet, who’s been dead these 10 years. The play’s final image -- Shake’s daughter Judith, the disaffected one, the twin who lived, the less-favored daughter, at her father’s graveside, complaining that she never really liked the hokeyness of the final romances, with all their magic and coincidences and obsession of a father for reconnecting with his daughter -- and suddenly, through a lighting trick, director Bill Rauch places them on the Globe’s stage, and Judith becomes Cordelia, and Shag, her father, her dead Lear (or else Marina, Imogen, Perdita, Miranda, all reconciled with their fathers in the late romances).
There are big swaths of Lear and Macbeth in Cain’s play, the latter with James I, resplendent in golden robes, hopping up and down and clapping his hands with excitement, all because this new play by the King’s Men is set in Scotland and has witches! (Plenty of witches. Also plots, betrayal, murder, sadism, regicide, emptiness, curses, death.)
(Bobo’s lucky: This very night, on the same Bowmer stage, he is to see ... the Scottish play itself.)
Anthony Heald (best Iago I’ve ever seen onstage, here a few years back) plays Shag as a man who’s repressed, out to make a profit, wary of his superiors, respectful of actors, always in a rush, not at all astounded by his own talent, deeply concerned about what’s true — in politics, in the spiritual realm.
One of the many, many wonderful things about Equivocation is how it treats Shakespeare with irreverence — flawed, a man of the moment, not held at arm’s length by bardolatry, not sure at all that his plays will live on, living a precarious existence as a crypto-Catholic (?) in an officially Protestant nation.
Jonathan Haugen’s split-second changes from just one of the shareholders in the company, Nate (Nathan Field? -- Richard Burbage and Robert Armin, Shakespeare’s wiser fool of the later comedies, are also in this cast) -- into “Beagle,” the Richard III-like, diminutive and misshapen and morally crippled, always scheming Robert Cecil (real-life son of William, whom Shak. parodied as Polonius) were delightful.
So was this play. I’m buying the script, just to relive the fun.
And more than fun -- in its contemporary relevance, its array of insightful analogies, Equivocation presents a theatrical experience not unlike what it must have been like to sit in 1953 for The Crucible: witch hunts like McCarthy there, the scheming in and around the Gunpowder Plot with echoes of Mr. Cheney’s war here.
History made alive. Drunken porters who tell people to fuck off. The world’s greatest playwright, unable even to treat his own daughter with humanity. Actors forever under pressure to get the next play up.
Shag, for once, livng and breathing in our world. That’s Equivocation: having it both ways, living in worlds that are 400 years and a continent apart.
[photos: Anthony Heald as Shag and Jonathan Haugen as Sir Robert Cecil; the members of the King's Men vote to put on the "official version" of what really happened during the Gunpowder Plot (as penned by King James himself and script-doctored by Shakespeare ... erm, this never actually happened, you know]

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review of *Paradise Lost*

PARADISE LOST
by Clifford Odets, premiered in 1935
Oct. 22 at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland

Seventy-seven years after the action in Clifford Odets' play opens, and America's in the same pickle: Great Depression then, Great Recession now. Foreclosures and job loss, homelessness, anger at the System, political radicalism, self-blame, money worries, feuding business partners -- a lot of Odets' material resonates right now in ways that it wouldn't have even just two years ago.
So it's a privilege to witness this play at this juncture of our history.
Odets traces the decline of a middle-class Brooklyn family in the middle of the Depression, from flush times to being evicted. Among his plays, it was his favorite -- though even he admitted it was too crowded with characters, too episodic.

[photo: Clifford Odets, from www.jewish-theatre.com]

Director Libby Appel's production pays tribute to its Group Theater origins by studding the 22 roles with plenty of OSF veterans, even in the small parts. No star turns here. (Then again, you won't often see a play this old and large done by professional theaters very often.)
The family loses its home; each of the three adult children has his or her dreams shattered (or worse); the optimistic best friend has a daughter who marries the favorite son, only to turn out self-centered and resentful; the business partner is an angry, corrupt old toad. Six years after the Crash, it all comes crashing down. So Paradise is indeed Lost, along with the American Dream.
The odd thing was that, as Mr. Pike the pessimist and Leo Gordon the optimist spouted their scenarios of gloom and hope, you didn't get the sense of prophesies fulfilled so much as the cyclical nature of history. (Maybe Hegel, or the pendulum theory of history, is vindicated most here.)
Michael J. Hume (Mr. Antrobus, Stephano, and Macbeth in 18 years here, among many other roles) doesn't quite earn the heart-ringing optimism of his big final speech** -- and the final scene, with its echoes of the end of The Cherry Orchard, wasn't quite as moving as it hoped to be. (But then Truth is hard to face: After a couple of hits with Waiting for Lefty and Awake and Sing!, Odets didn't hit it over the fences with this one; critics worked hard to dissociate this particular middle-class family from what was happened to so many others in the late '30s.)
That's partly because the script is so scattered (seemingly dozens of people trooping in and out of this brownstone residence, barely knocking at the front door as they scurried in to tell their tales).
But it also contains cumulative surprises: A lot is happening, a sense of lives glimpsed in snippets, plenty of activity and not just people lying around bemoaning their fate. Paradise Lost is still in my head the morning after, and while I haven't liked some of Libby Appel's choices (King Lear, The Cherry Orchard), I thought this was the best-directed of her efforts that I have seen.
David DeSantos as Ben: took risks with over-the-top zoot-suit effusiveness in the first act, but turned those same mannerisms into cynical self-loathing by the second act. (A three-hour play with two intermissons and a huge cast -- just like in the old days!) DeSantos was almost acting in his own play, in a style unlike anybody else onstage (and, let's face it, this has something to do with OSF's emphasis on colorblind casting: the Hispanic Jewish kid who speaks in Brooklynese) -- BUT, DeSantos, like Marilyn Stacey (who I saw the night before in Becky's New Car at Artists Rep) commands attention, has magnetism. You start daydreaming: what else I'd like to see these actors in.
Mr. Pike grumbles about his two sons, both killed in the Great War, and then about how capitalism breeds wars -- and you're struck by how Odets and his actors could only see WW2 coming, and didn't know about Korea, Vietnam, two Gulf Wars, Afghanistan, and all the rest. And now we're back in an economic pit, clawing to get out.
Hume's character, Leo Gordon, has such compassion: Does it translate into my actual life, with me sitting in my expensive theater seat, while others are losing their jobs? Resolved: to do more to help the poor, even as I continue to experience the kind of art that makes me want to live a better life. Charity and art, both pretty basic; don't neglect either, don't feel guilt, just try to do better in both arenas.
Paradise Lost doesn't foretell the end of capitalism any more than today's troubles mean we're all going to die next Tuesday. With hindsight, both extremes of outlook seem exaggerated: Our lives are of a mingled yarn, both good and ill together.

I deeply admire Richard Elmore as an actor (he was entrancing as the skeptical art history prof in Pentecost back in '97), but he has settled into the same old mannerisms in role after role: hand claps, planting one foot and then shifting the other slightly, nose-brushes to indicate sarcastic intent, the whiny-to-roaring voice, the primping gestures that call attention to himself rather than to his character.

Bobo met Richard Howard at intermission (from my program, I see that in 22 years here, he has played Romeo, Jaques, Master Ford, Gayev, Angelo, Richard II, Pericles and Hamlet, among many other roles). So I compliment him on the fifth-act soliloquy, Richard in prison, "back in '97" (I'd taken a bunch of Whitworth students), and immediately he corrected me: "that was in '95, actually." Gracious and kind about it, but: Do you REALLY think actors don't treasure their performances? They are woven into the fabric of who they are, what their lives mean.

** "I tell you, the whole world is for men to possess. Heartbreak and terror are not the heritage of mankind! The world is beautiful. No fruit tree wears a lock and key. Men will sing at their work, men will love. Oh, darling, the world is in its morning ... and no man fights alone!"

**
See a couple of (overly large) photos of the Group Theater at
http://www.soulamericanactor.com/clurmantheplay/files/brookfield.jpg
and a picture from the OSF production at
http://www.artscatter.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/paradise_2_jg_1188-1024x680.jpg
[from artscatter.com, a Portland arts blog: from left, Mark Murphey as Mr. Pike (the embittered, anti-capitalist furnace repairman), Michael J. Hume as Leo Gordon (the patriarch, who co-owns a handbag manufacturing business), and Richard Elmore as Gus Michaels (the motorcycle-driving best friend whose daughter Libby marries the Gordon's Olympic-athlete-and-swaggering-but-disappointing son Ben)

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review of *Becky's New Car*

(seen Oct. 21 at Artists Rep in Portland; closes Oct. 25)

After productions in Seattle and Minneapolis, this is only the third production ever of Steven Dietz’s new comedy, in which the playwright takes a sit com premise and develops it in unexpected and ingenious ways to achieve a conclusion that (as good literature often does) blends comedy with reminders of truths that we already know.
Ben Waterhouse of Willamette Week didn’t like it, I gather, saying that another Dietz play currently being performed in Portland, Passion, is much superior. (I don’t know Passion, so I can’t compare ‘em, but I can mention that Passion stars David Seitz, familiar to Interplayers audiences from God’s Man in Texas and several other shows a few years back.)
Becky’s New Car is already scheduled for a half-dozen regional productions, and there will be more. There should be.
It’s easy to snark at conventional premises, as if they alone determine the quality of the ensuing hour and a half of an evening’s theater. But what lifts Becky’s above the conventional is what Dietz does with his starting material.
The thing is, you know, I wish I could write a play like this.



Becky (Marilyn Stacey, apparently an Artists Rep veteran -- and very engaging and charismatic, and not just because her ample bosom was on display most of the evening (all that bending over to do housework!) -- and there’s an essay just in that, how she won over the audience; some people just have it, and Stacey is one) ... but back to Becky -- she introduces us by enlisting the audience with help as she vacuums the living room, picks up after family, puts buckets under roof leaks, serves beer to a couple of guys in the front row. She’s got a schlumpy roofer of a husband (nice guy; smart, too) and a 26-year-old son who still lives in their basement. To make ends meet, she has a harried job as an office manager at a car dealership. When a mega-wealthy widower shows up late one night to buy a fleet of cars, she kinda-sorta lets him get the impression that her husband is, well, not around anymore, and wouldn’t it be interesting if this oddball Prince Charming might throw some bucks and excitement in the direction of a middle-class gal like Becky?
OK, so the rich guy is too convenient (SO rich, SO addled, such a goofball) and his society-lady friend is barely sketched in, and it’s more than a bit coincidental that young lovers get their families tangled in complications that may date back centuries, all the way up to crummy TV comedies ... there are some improvements Dietz could still make.
But let’s also recognize his achievement. He has written an entertaining divertissement that lots of married, middle-aged working women will relate to. (Anybody stuck in a rut, too.) It’s full of one-liners. Most of the characters aren’t merely flat. He has investigated the lure of the taboo: What if I went wild for just one last fling? What if I went for the path not taken? Put a little guilt-free spice into my life?
Except that Becky’s fling doesn’t come guilt-free. Dietz sets obstacles before about three couples and manages to keep Becky's husband and would-be lover ignorant of each other for the maximum time allowable by law. (He knows how to scramble and unscramble a plot, in other words.)
All the while, he's fully characterizing a couple of the aggrieved parties (the wronged husband, a widowed co-worker of Becky’s) and ends up with a lightly-touched-upon rumination on living our lives in the context of death. (Yes, this sit com takes a serious, meaningful turn.) It's about considering the consequences of our actions, realizing that self-indulgence has costs, inspiring us to realize that the way to grass-is-greener may not mean hopping the fence but putting in the work (aerate that lawn and mulch those clippings, man!) that will make the grass you already have seem a bit more verdant. 
The wonderful set design, by Lawrence Larsen, speaks to the dream of the open road that many of us still seem to possess -- at least those of us raised back when muscle cars had giant tail fins. Allen Nause directs so as to maintain the slapstick pace Dietz must have called for in the script, with Becky tearing off her housecoat and careening into phone calls and faxes over in that fussily cluttered office of hers that's just a few paces away.

[photo: from the Portland Mercury: from left, Marilyn Stacey as Becky Foster, David Bodin as Walter Flood, and Susan Coromel as Ginger in director Allen Nause’s production of Steven Dietz’s Becky’s New Car at Artists Repertory Theatre, Sept.-Oct. 2009]

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review of *The Illusion*


(seen Oct. 18 at Cowles Auditorium; remaining performances on Oct. 23-24)


[ Pierre Corneille, 1606-84 ]


The final twist in Tony Kushner’s adaptation of Corneille’s The Illusion (at Whitworth, Oct. 23-24) is so ingenious, so unexpected, that it drew gasps and delighted laughter.

A lawyer seeks out a magician for helping in conjuring visions of the lawyer’s long-lost son -- and we’re treated to four episodes from the son’s life. Except that the details are all off, distorted. The father’s confused: Why are the situations and characters in my son’s life sort of what I expected, but also terribly inconsistent?

In a play that’s all about acting and metatheatrical in the extreme, the Whitworth student actors are all engaging. (Sorry, away from my program just now.) Diana Trotter directs so as to keep the sometimes exaggerated rhetoric of Corneille’s original in check, leavening it with jokes and undercutting the sentimentality. Peter Hardie designed the cave-interior set, complete with unexpected features that  certainly help in the special effects department.

For those who love acting and meditating about artifice -- and who like comedy mixed with bits of seriousness -- I’d recommend seeing this show. It appeals to theater types, and it’s not frequently done.

But there are two problem areas. First,.the four episodes ought to be been trimmed: Corneille tends to set up a situation and then elaborate it at length. We get that the idealistic young lover is head-over-heels for the lovely ingenue, and we get that later on, he must be frustrated when reduced to acting as a servant and submitted to men who are clearly his inferior. There’s a through-line, but it’s vague and wispy -- and yet the through-line is the payoff. Bobo’s mind wandered a bit: Now the son has learned to be contrite about his dalliances, and the father and the wizard are still standing around as spectators, and the emotional point of each scene, taken separately, tends to become clear -- and then yammered about at length.

Again, the Whitworth actors were spritely, energetic, engaging. But the scenes didn’t contain enough reversals. 

The second problem area is Leonard Oakland’s performance as Pridamant, the aged lawyer-father. (Full disclosure: It pains me to say this, because Leonard and I taught in the same department from 1990-97, and because he is a wonderfully warm person, gifted teacher, valued colleague and just a swell bon vivant.) But much of his performance is wooden and unconvincing. (There are moments, especially when Pridamant gets to express sarcasm or disappointment in his son’s adventures.) But Leonard is also called upon to express anguish and fear. A lot of his line readings were whiny, hesitant, not fully felt.

None of this should be taken as intending to dissuade playgoers from choosing this  production. And it was especially touching to hear that Trotter wanted Oakland in her cast because, after 43 years of teaching at Whitworth, he has justly earned at paternal image around campus. I mean, the students who get to act with Leonard Oakland are enjoying a real privilege.

But being learned, compassionate, twitchy, wise, eccentric, passionate -- all of which Leonard is -- does not necessarily equate with acting ability. The same lecture-hall talent for being presentational (in delivering a lecture) does not enrich an actor’s interiority. Leonard’s gangly, glasses-on-the-forehead exuberance behind the lectern detracts here from his depiction of Pridamant, who is emotionally distant, disoriented, exasperated, anguished.



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Thursday, October 22, 2009

Going on a journey to a very dark place



Hadley Freeman in The Guardian has a laugh at the pretentious way that many actors talk about their "craft."

It's a good reminder that language ought to be kept simple and direct. (We're supposed to be truth-tellers, after all.)

Bobo has a friend who decided long ago that acting wasn't all that difficult: Given moderate intelligence and a reasonable amount of emotional accessibility, you can more or less impersonate anyone. We see it all the time in indie films and in community theater. To do it well is a rare gift -- but to be able to do it adequately, lots of us can get by. 

I myself have so many self-effacing mannerisms ("I'm sorry," lowered eyes, nervous movements, gotta-make-my-point-so-I'll-overact) that I'm a long way from having stage charisma -- so it's fascinating to watch actors who clearly gather up audiences in their arms and give them big emotional hugs. Can't-take-your-eyes-off-them watchability -- that's rare. Watching those actors "work" -- that's a journey worth taking. (And why is it that we overuse the verb "work"? Out of self-consciousness that it's really, after all, play -- and not actually that difficult?)
[image: netw.com]

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Wednesday, October 21, 2009

response to *August: Osage County" in Portland

Bobo is on vacation, seeing seven plays in five days and spending hours in Powell's trying to figure out how many books I can afford and finally settling on eight plays (Fugard and Friel, Moises Kaufman and Ayckbourn, Ibsen [so I can follow along with the radio versions of the late plays, which I have never read, which are included in the BBC video collection, which I have been devouring, with the divine Juliet Stevenson as Nora Helmer and a moving Little Eyolf with Anthony Hopkins and Diana Rigg], along with a Terrence McNally and a Pete Gurney, just becase they're coming up at the Civic).
Five days out of the year spent just the way I like it. (Hey, I have this coming -- Dannie and Kylie, long-suffering wife and daughter of Bobo, spent two weeks this summer in Switzerland. I was stuck at home with the dog.)



**
But last night: 3 1/2 hours went by quickly. Tracy Letts takes on the ghosts of Chekhov (Three Sisters; there are three daughters here, searching, searching) and, especially, O'Neill (family dysfunction and secrets, but at least here done with a sense of humor and a modern idiom.
It's three generations of an Oklahoma family that isn't functioning at all, much less dysfunctioning. Estelle Parsons as the pill-popping matriarch: gravelly voiced, realistically drug-addled, swaying listlesslyh in her living room, then swooping down like small hawk to attack family members with her talons. A haunting final image: Parsons bobbing about in a deserted house like a pinball, babbling in her own little painkiller reality, escaping upstairs into the arms of the only other human left in the house -- a woman she has, like everyone else in her life, despised and held at arm's length.
The patriarch played as twitchier than I'd expected from reading it -- scowling at life, amused at ironies, the humor a mask for all the pain within. That enormous three-story set, filled with stage business in the shadows, a sense of family life, lived, off to the side of whatever focal scene was taking place. 
The Indian woman as the outsider, our way into the play. Barbara, the eldest daughter, probably the foulest-mouthed of the lot, a signal of just how despairing she is over her divorce and rebellious daughter and current family tragedies and failure to live up to her father's hopes for her in academia. Three scenes from the end, the blocking echoed the opening scene of patriarch hiring the maid; now the oldest daughter is "in charge," and just as alcohol-soaked and disbelieving and pissed-off as her father was. Here's where Letts takes on the Big Important American play themes: "As if what was disappearing had already disappeared. As if it was too late. As if it was already over. And no one saw it go. This country, this experiment, America, this hubris: what a lament, if no one saw it go."
Favorite lines: "My wife takes pills and I drink. That's the bargain we've struck...."  "Little Charles isn't complicated, he's just unemployed."  Barbara: "This is not the Midwest. All right? Michigan is the Midwest, God knows why. This is the Plains: a state of mind, right, some spiritual affliction, like the Blues." Bill: "Are you okay?" "I'm fine. Just got the Plains."
The story about the dying birds: "this serial parakeet killer."
"I swear to God, you psychoanalyze me right now, I skin you."
Married couple arguing over his infidelity: "And her name is Cindy." "I know her stupid name. At least do me the courtesy of recognizing when I'm demeaning you."
Mother to teen daughter, after a death in the family: "Listen to me: die after me, all right? I don't care what else you do, where you go, how you screw up your life, just ... survive. Outlive me, please." "I'll do my best."
Matriarch to schlumpy middle daughter, who's 44 and unmarried: "Honey, you wore a suit to your father's funeral. A woman doesn't wear a suit to a funeral --." "God, you're weird; it's a black suit." "You look like a magician's assistant."

One of the wonders is: All 13 figures are fully characterized. The youngest daughter, desperate to be loved, the absentee family member -- a bit too desperate, protesting too much that the sleazeball loves her, even when it's clear that he treats her with contempt. 
In a play full of self-loathing and other-hatred, the decency and goodness of Uncle Charley's bucking up his son, telling off his wife. The bravery of the ineffectual and misfit "cousins" trying to forge a better life for themselves.
p. 77, Pippi Longstocking
p. 85, the blessing

My only criticisms? Unconvincing stage slaps and fights; a couple of Barbara's scene-ending zingers rushed through and not allowed to register. But Letts is really a master of idioms -- academic and working-class, elderly and teen, urban and country, encouraging and deeply, disturbingly cynical. 
And it's such a well-constructed play. Little hints ("I'm not looking for a man"; men are always saying, 'I'm here now" when they've been absent, physically and emotionally, for months; the T.S. Eliot quotes; and more) cycle back to tie up the action.
[ photo: Broadwayworld.com; 2nd national tour ]

**
And Bobo needs some rest and relaxation: Too much stress and caffeine and too little sleep brought on another bout with atrial fibrillation (my "irregulary irregular heartbeat"). I get lightheaded; I can feel my heart doing the rumba. They make me go see my diminutive Ukrainian cardiologist, whose idea of being effusive involves cracking a slight smile. But she seems knowledgeable -- also bossy, as when they knocked me out last week so they could stick a tiny camera down my gullet and take photos of my ticker (quite healthy, thanks -- all those years of running -- but inclined to send out "chaotic electrical signals"). Then they sent a lightning bolt through my heart (just milliseconds, still left a slight sunburn on chest and back) to jolt it back, like Frankenstein's monster, into a regular rhythm. Not life-threatening, but I'll probably end up on medication so as to create a steady, dependable backbeat for the syncopated jazz solo that is the life of Bobo.

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review of Ed Asner in *FDR*


Oct. 17 at the Fox

In Dore Schary’s boring-history-lecture of a play, Ed Asner was unsure of his lines, unsure of his props and badly in need of a director.
The performance was nearly two hours long, leaden (full of transitions like “And so we came to the election of 1944 ...”) and performed, for no good reason, without an intermission. (You can avoid an intermission if you’re under 90 minutes, in order to keep up the intensity. There wasn’t much intensity here to keep up.)
As for the pacing: It was, um, very, um ... um, slow.
There were long, nervous pauses during which your stomach clenched as you hoped please, let him remember his lines, because I don’t want to have to shift uncomfortably in my seat again.
Asner had told Bobo that the play, a kind of sequel to Sunrise at Campobello (which covered up to 1924, whereas this show plods its predictable, undramatized path from the late ‘20s to 1945) had only been produced once before, back in the ‘70s (with Robert Vaughan, the Man from UNCLE).
Now we know why.
Schary relies way too much on the device of having the solo actor engage in imaginary conversations with imaginary friends (which, when overdone like this, has the effect of making the actor seem slightly loony). Worse, most of the imaginary friends are uncharacterized: It’s just one long line of sketched-in political cronies, pals, enemies and Cabinet secretaries.
I don’t think I learned much about FDR that I didn’t know beforehand.

North Idaho College in Coeur d’Alene used to hold Popcorn Forums, in which local and regional educators would impersonate historical figures in a series of one-person shows. On several occasions, what I witnessed at NIC was better than the show Asner put on.
Oh, there were moments: the frenzy of learning about the Pearl Harbor attack had immediacy (even if picking up the phone and then having it ring can detract a little from verisimilitude. The farewell -- FDR toddling off to Warm Springs in April 1945, just for a little R ‘n’ R -- was affecting.
But, you know, basically it amounted to two hours of discussions with the Secretary of Agriculture.
The show is timely, at least — Obama as the new FDR, at least -- but something as dramatically inert as this does nothing to make the case for activist government.
Asner has a stellar reputation both as an actor (seven Emmys) and as liberal activist (his outspokenness on El Salvador got Lou Grant canceled). But this touring one-man show -- for which he is not even well suited physically, since he resembles Teddy much more than Franklin -- is not doing Asner’s reputation any favors. It’s not a good play, and it wasn’t well performed.

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Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Ed Asner on Jack Bannon, Pearl Harbor, and labor unions (interview outtakes)



Edward Asner portrays FDR in Dore Schary's one-man stage show on Saturday, Oct. 17, at 8 pm at the Fox. Tickets: $27-$47. Visit foxtheaterspokane.com or call 624-1200 or 325-SEAT.

Bobo has a Q&A with Asner in tomorrow's Inlander.  (He talked by phone from his office in L.A.'s San Fernando Valley.) Some passages that had to be cut:

A fuller version of Asner's rant about liberals who don't support unions:
Being a liberal is the easy way out! [Long pause. Is Ed Asner going to start ranting? Yes, he is.] When you see what liberals do today when there are union troubles, it makes me want to puke. I don’t think conservatives would ever allow their members to ignore one of their causes in the same way. Liberals whine and go on and on without the slightest realization of what it is that union members do and what the basis of unions is. Let me put it this way: When we’re in negotiations and struggling for a contract, your ability to strike is your only weapon. So in the middle of a strike, to attack your leaders and tell them, ‘Don’t you dare strike’ … well, that’s a total betrayal. I’m referring to the recent strike by the Screen Actors Guild [of which Asner was president in 1981-85]. 
I mean, the ignorance that’s allowed to prevail… The so-called crimes of unions are broadcast by corporations and the media all over. The average working man doesn’t have the foggiest idea that the wages he’s working for, even if he’s not a union man, are still determined by the union. Are you following me?
A union bus driver is making a certain wage. A non-union bus driver will work for less. But his wage is based on what the union driver is making. If there was no union, then that non-union driver would be making even less. 


A couple of questions about Schary's script for FDR and how it's not merely hagiography:
You portray FDR, warts and all — including his mistreatment of Eleanor so he could have his mistress Lucy Mercer and his attempt to pack the Supreme Court. Anything else?
The two you mentioned, and Pearl Harbor. We can’t deny the total mobilization of forces beforehand.

My parents were both conservative Republicans, and they always preached that FDR knew in advance about Pearl Harbor and maneuvered the U.S. into World War II as a way out of the Depression. Your reaction?
I want it known that I don’t claim to preach the absolute truth in this play, and I lightly skip over the warts.
When I deal with Pearl Harbor, I deal with the fact that we were in negotiations with Japan — I’m quoting from the play now — “with a 10-point agreement with our pledging to stay out of Indochina and their promise not to attack us in the Pacific. And they turned us down flat. But we were able to break their code.
We didn’t know their navy was headed for Hawaii. But our air and naval forces were on the alert.”
And then he gets a phone call that Pearl Harbor has been attacked, and then a subsequent call that the Arizona and the Oklahoma have been sunk.
And I ask [as FDR], “What the hell were those planes doing on the ground? They were warned three days ago!”
From what I’ve heard and read, Admiral [Husband E.] Kimmel was the one who evidently seems to have failed to execute that kind of total alert.
I don’t know.


A couple of questions about Jack Bannon (and the 27 years since Lou Grant was cancelled):
Thirty years ago this month, in the middle of your run on Lou Grant [the drama about an L.A. newspaper that was spun off from The Mary Tyler Moore Show and which Asner starred in for five years], you shot an episode with a guest star who was married to one of cast members on Lou Grant
Oh, you mean Ellen Travolta and Jack Bannon. Yeah, they’re comin’ to the show in Spokane.

Would you have predicted that Jack would end up actively involved in small-town theater way up here?
Never. Jack was a stud-muffin at the time. But he is such a beautiful actor, and I think that being part of the rat race was the last thing that appealed to him. I’m not surprised that he moved up there. We had a happy family there on Lou Grant for awhile, I can tell you.

[ photo: Ed Asner at eldercarerights.org ]

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