Tag: Play

Presented by NAATCO (National Asian American Theatre Company), the parentheses of the title [Veil Widow Conspiracy] hint at this play’s structure.  The events to be unveiled center around a 1922 political murder mystery which occurred in Xinjiang, China.  It is also about a 2010 movie filmed on location about that mystery.  Finally, two young Asians in a dystopian Brooklyn in 2035 are discussing the film.  The story lines are related and tucked inside each other but really serve to comment on philosophies and moralities.

In conversation, Mei and Xião agree that it’s not enough to be family anymore to get in China.  Connections are needed.  Apparently they reside in Brooklyn and the situation in the year 2035 is not good.  Xião (Aaron Yoo) brings up the autonomous region of Xinjiang and a movie.  The film cannot be seen in this presumably dystopian world so he will be telling her the story.  The metaphorically dense dialogue emerges early on when Mei (Karoline Xu) says, “We’re basically swimming in doubt and breathing bad faith – who can bear deliberate fancy?”

Quickly the time shifts to 1922 and we hear about a General’s daughter whose face was disfigured in a shooting accident.  Her husband was killed and now she is going to remarry.  A line of pompously important suitors attempt to woo her.  She now wears a veil since her appearance is a highly guarded secret, likely a hideous one.  The plot thickens as the suitors bad mouth each other and she toys with them about finding and killing her husband’s murderer.

This extensive period soap opera portion is leaden with little tension created to spark the attempt at aristocratic political intrigue.  The 1922 Heiress (Kimiye Corwin) says to the Commander, “How can I, when the thought of your touch makes me gag?”  It’s hard to get on board when the words sound silly and overwrought but are not delivered that way.

Shifting again, the play moves to the filming of the 2010 movie.  More or less there are three angles here:  recreation of movie scenes, interviews with the filmmakers and heated discussions with Chinese censors who confiscate the half-finished project.  “A western film attacking Chinese values will not be approved.”  The producer responds, “Of course not.  Tell me, is this like pubic hair?”  A conversation ensues about the appropriateness of male and female nudity.

Lines emerge about false truths which perk up the ears.  “The hypocrisy of a truth despite it being universally known.  That is exactly what brought down the Catholic Church.  And the Berlin Wall.”  But then the dialogue circles back to “pubic hair is another example, absent across centuries to even now – depending on where – but still, often, sometimes – asserting the complete non-existence of a biological commonplace.”  There are some interesting ideas and thoughts buried deep within this play.  The dialogue is often so intellectually unnatural that it was hard to stay focused to find those nuggets.

The mishmash of interlocking stories continue from 1922 events to the movie shoot to the cast speaking directly to the audience.  An actor confesses “I felt so naïve, in my privilege” before quickly returning to the main drama.  The story will finally conclude before returning to Brooklyn in 2035 so the Mei and Xião can disagree about the film.  She concludes:  “that is an insidious amount of total bullshit.”  A dangerous line to throw out there at the end of an overwritten play.  [Veil Widow Conspiracy] needs copious editing and perhaps complete elimination of the Brooklyn bookends which did not seem to add anything meaningful.

Edward Chin-Lyn (as Commander and Film Director) and James Seol (as Prince and Delegate) created confident characterizations for both of their roles.  Yu-Hsuan Chen’s set design was ingeniously simple and very effective in clearly delineating the oft-changing locales.  Gordon Dahlquist’s play, however, is long-winded and the director (Aneesha Kudtarkar) was not able to help us understand why this particular story was being told.

www.nytw.org

www.naatco.org

Ever wanted to sit on the floor during a Presidential nominating National Convention?  The opportunity is available in Brooklyn at the Irondale Center.  Danny Rocco’s play immerses its audience onto the floor of the 1944 Democratic convention.  Roosevelt had already served four terms and was not expected to live through his next one.  A battle for the Vice Presidency – and for the likely next President – occurred.  That juicy political story is retold here with a huge cast of forty actors.

The candidates for Vice President included the incumbent Henry A. Wallace and Harry S. Truman.  Although Wallace was the President’s pick, some in the party found him too progressively left and friendly to labor.  Truman was the more moderate choice.  Convention imagines the wheeling and dealing which took place over two days in July, 1944.

Directed by Shannon Fillion, the convention stage is used for speeches but the guts of this play is the action which occurs everywhere, often simultaneously as written.  There are delegates sitting among the audience chanting “we want Wallace, the same old team.”  Discussions, arguments and gossip ensues.  There are many sidebars happening in the aisles and up in the balcony. Pick one or two and eavesdrop.  The energy and general mayhem is fun, especially for political junkies.

There are a lot of delegates and who’s who becomes a little hard to follow.  The main players in this drama do emerge.  Senator Samuel D. Jackson worked very hard to secure Truman’s nomination.  He later said that he wanted his tombstone inscribed with the words, “Here lies the man who stopped Henry Wallace from becoming President of the United States.”

Jackson is portrayed by Kathleen Littlefield in a confidently assured performance.  The casting in this show is gender and racially neutral.  That seems to work fine overall.  Campiness does creep in occasionally and it seems intentional.  The relatively young cast, however, struggles slightly to add gravitas to these delegates and convention organizers so the humor is close to sitcom laughs.  The best performances were strongly defined, appropriately serious in tone while also being amusing.  McLean Peterson’s Mayor Kelly, Michael Pantozzi’s Philip Murray (from the Congress of Industrial Organizations) and Sue Kim as Dorothy Vrendenburgh, the Secretary of the DNC, were especially memorable.

Billed as an immersive political comedy, the production pivots between semi-serious reenactment and slyly subversive farce.  The build up in Act I to the final speech in support of Wallace is a peak.  The show is never less than interesting and fascinating to follow.  If you enjoy bribes, secret meetings, spying, extramarital affairs, conniving and pettiness, there is much to gawk at during this political soap opera spoof.

The beginning of Act II takes a turn to a lighter, jokier comedic style which was less successful.  The Hot Dog Man (a very funny J.G. Grouzard) is front and center barking about his merchandise.  Bess Truman is portrayed by Daniel John Serpati in drag.  He’s certainly funny but a tad out of place.  The women playing men don’t camp up the drag nearly as big (or perhaps he was just the boldest impersonation).

There are some odd diversions along the way where these characters ponder what love is or toss up-to-date commentary into the mix.  “Stop it.  You’re like birds tweeting… use your mind.”  I did get a kick out of many of the witty asides in the script when they were politically insightful and sharply delivered.  A favorite:  “people love bullshit because people are simple.”

I sat in the Iowa section.  Many audience members were fanning themselves like you might see in a crowded, overheated convention hall.  It added to the realism but the fans served another purpose.  The inside of the Irondale Center is quite warm.  I advise you to dress appropriately.

Last week I saw Ms. Blakk For President at Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theatre about the 1992 New York Democratic Convention.  Three days later I attended this Convention in NYC based on the 1944 Chicago Democratic Convention.  Kismet?  America’s politics may appear more theatrical today than ever before.  It’s a welcome time to let inspiring artists highlight some of the highs and lows of the democratic process.  We need to laugh at it sometimes to remain sane.

Convention can be recommended for its immersive experience and Shannon Fillion’s you-are-there direction.  Her massive cast has been orchestrated to make you feel like you are on the floor in the middle of the action.  Although clearly not intended, it would be interesting to see this same piece staged more traditionally with a gang of grandstanding older, white men.  Danny Rocco’s ambitious dramedy might then acquire a darker edge more pointedly skewering the political games played in the real world.

www.irondale.org

theaterreviewsfrommyseat/msblakkforpresident/steppenwolf

There are no sure bets in theater.  That’s the excitement and reality of live performance and creative risk taking.  There are, however, reliable pockets of extraordinary levels of sustained excellence.  One can presume a visit to the small Greenwich Village basement space of the Axis Company will include mind-blowing ambiance.  Last Man Club beautifully overloads the senses and transports you to the Dust Bowl in the 1930s.

For its twentieth anniversary season, Axis Company’s Artistic Director Randy Sharp has reprised her 2013 play.  Farmers in the praries of Texas and Oklahoma destroyed the topsoil which contained native grasses.  Without those deep rooted plants to protect the land through periods of drought and high winds, dust storms raged on for the better part of the decade.  Many escaped to find a better way of life.  John Steinbeck immortalized that migration in his magnificent book The Grapes of Wrath.

Ms. Sharp has taken a different route, telling a story of a family that decided to stick it out.  When the lights go down at the start of this play, the wind is deafening.  The composer and sound designer of many Axis productions, Paul Carbonara, creates a harsh environment through sound.  You sit there for a while to take it all in.  When the lights come up, the dust is so prevalent that you can practically smell it and taste it.

Four people remain in this house.  There are no neighbors anymore.  No one goes outside without a face covering.  Major (Jon McCormick, superb) is the man of this home, determined to see the light when it arrives at the other end of this storm.  His brother decided to leave for better pastures in California, taking all the money with him.  Saromy (Britt Genelin) and Wishful Hi (Lynn Mancinelli) are the ladies in residence.  Both dream about the picture shows.  Pogord (Spencer Aste) is healing from a broken arm.  Everyone is damaged in some way; beaten down by their never ending environmental misery.

There is activity outside the home.  Occasionally a vehicle passes by.  There will be two different visitors that drop in to check on the family.  One takes his hat off to let the dust fall, underscoring the intense conditions.  The mysterious plot revolves around these strangers and survival decisions.  Claustrophobic emotional drama is the mood.  Tension is the catalyst which drives this tale forward.

Last Man Club is not a play which tells a straightforward story.  What happens and does not happen is for the audience to decide.  This experience is best described as immersive environmental theater.  With all of the current conversations about climate change, the timing is certainly right to consider the implications of a man-made disaster.  When you leave the theater, you will have resided in that sad home and felt choked by the dust and despair.  The atmosphere is suffocating and riveting.

The six actors combine a naturalistic style with their unique character’s individualized quirkiness.  Relationship histories are hinted at.  The audience is given the opportunity to color between the lines.  This is a theater piece to experience not simply to follow a story arc.  There is a darkness looming everywhere.  Can the human spirit conjure up hope in a horrific world of doom and gloom?

www.axiscompany.org

theaterreviewsfrommyseat/strangersintheworld/axis

theaterreviewsfrommyseat/highnoon/axis

In the 19th century, Eliza Lynch made her notoriety when she traveled from her native Ireland and became the mistress-wife of the president of Paraguay’s son.  She bore him six children and was considered “an ambitious courtesan.”  Some believe she turned him into a bloodthirsty dictator.  Others debunk this story as war propaganda.   The theater company The Drunkard’s Wife has turned her story into “a spectacle with music.”

This show is defined by the company as a fragmented portrait.  Scenes, both real and imagined, are intended to showcase her life as an adventuress, cultural doyenne, femme fatale and microfinance pioneer.  When this show begins, her face is a bit dirty and she reminds me of Marie Antoinette.  She’s planning a party.

Why is she dirty?  Apparently she is digging a grave with her hands.  I didn’t understand that until I read the script afterwards.  She (and the playwrights) like lists.  She recites how her guest should come and what they should wear.  “You will come as a fishwife of Ghent.”  Or “a raspberry.” Or “three embarrassed laundresses.”  Pointing toward an audience member, Madame Lynch declares “you will wear a prostitute’s yellow hood.”

From this point, little can be understood.  There are scenes in a forest where someone named the Mighty Gatherer says, “those rattling neotropic insects  you hear are heliotropic — they go to sunlight.”  What does this have to do with the story?  More psychobabble and then the scene ends with “does your Madame Lynch even imagine this?”

Madame Lynch was clearly not my cup of tea.  Normandy Sherwood and Craig Flanagin wrote and directed this play.  I mentioned earlier that they apparently like lists.  Scene 17 is “695 known birds of Paraguay.”  This is presented as a chorale for Madame Lynch and two other women.  I started to worry that they were going to name all of them.  I’m not kidding.  They listed at least two hundred very specific birds (“the drab-breasted pygmy-tyrant”).  While the recitation was creatively intertwined and impressively memorized, the point escaped me entirely.

Happily, Julia Francis Kelly was an inspiring choice to play Madame Lynch.  Her performance was a nice blend of understated camp, wide-eyed opportunist and haughty first lady.  The costumes by Ms. Sherwood (with Chelsea Collins and Nikki Luna Paz) were eye catching, vividly colored and quite memorable.  Seven members of Ballet Panambí Vera, a contemporary Paraguayan dance company, livened up the proceedings with Iliana Gauto’s exuberant (and welcome) choreography.

Towards the end of this hodgepodge of a rambling play, undercooked spectacle, dull cartoon and incoherent history lesson stuffed with pretentious dialogue, there is a fashion show.  The War of the Triple Alliance is depicted.  In a show which excelled in presenting memorable costumes, why was the fashion show so mundane?  Points about warfare and casualties were uttered but none of them mattered before moving on to the next vignette.

Madame Lynch wants to be a clever production showcasing the horrors of misguided cultural imperialism.  Perhaps the finished product is just too specifically quirky to be enjoyed from outside the creative team’s vision.  I cannot think of anyone I would send to see this show.

www.newohiotheatre.org

www.thedrunkardswife.com

When you enter the downstairs space at La Mama, multi-colored fluorescent lights illuminate a multi-level stage.  Asked to enter the theater in twos, your first stop is a few steps up to a level.  If you so choose, you can go inside the curtain to speak with the great ancestors.  The play Messiah has big ambitions, a title which promises significance and a downtown sensibility right from the start.

The jam packed story arc begins in March 1968.  FBI Director Hoover was quoted as saying that the Black Panthers were “one of the greatest threats to the nation’s internal security.”  This play has a viewpoint.  Hoover is trying to neutralize black militant groups to prevent the rise of the Messiah.

In a nightclub,  a disc jockey begins scratching.  “The scratch” functions not only to set a time and a place but also to represent distance.  Between music and time.  Between Africa and America.  Even between beats and silence.  “Scratch” and it’s 1996.  Mom offers her child encouragement: “don’t ever stop rapping.”

Now a DJ named Messiah, the plot swirls around stylistically and melodramatically.  Messiah deals with queer and trans people struggling within the “legacies of sexism and homophobia” of black nationalism.  The Star Land strip club is also a setting where a gorgeous trans performer finds an unlikely admirer, the absentee father of Messiah.

The melodrama and plot contrivances multiply.  Lines such as “I can’t go through with this” and “I can’t watch someone else die” are commonplace.  Some intensely poetic word imagery, however, is very effective:  “I can still smell the blood on the concrete.”

Crack cocaine has begun to devastate the community and Star Land is not immune as its ladies become ghosts.  The spirits of the ancestors are represented on stage by two women.  The play frequently stops to underscore how this community came to be so damaged.  The CIA was behind the contras who were “sending crack to the hoods.”  This particular controversy was real news and is used as another example of how the system represses and continues to enslave.

Writer and Director Nia O. Witherspoon definitely has a ton of topics to address about the African American and LGBTQ experience.  She confronts not only oppression from outside but also the internal problems within the community itself.  The range of subjects is exhaustively comprehensive.  Topics covered in this play include single moms, transvestites, drugs, capitalism, gender issues, police brutality, rap music expressionism, alcoholism, prostitution and more.

Messiah does need an edit.  The first act is a long 1:45.  This soap opera eventually pulls together the plot strings connecting these characters in the second act.  There are many inspired sections that feel angry and instructive.  The Black Panthers tell their story about bravery but the young people are “calling bullshit on that.”  To his absentee father he says, “you think you’re a revolutionary – well you ain’t – you’re fucking pathetic.”

A strong cast brings this vision to pulsating life.  The dual roles of Messiah and Malika add depth to the character’s journey, each aware of the importance of the other.  Painful lessons are learned.  None perhaps more damning than this nugget:  “we all have the white man’s religion inside us.”

Messiah offers up plenty to think about and is a nice start to La Mama’s month long programming reflecting on the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall riots.  I expect everyone’s personal frame of reference will shade their engagement with this material.  In her play, Ms. Witherspoon addresses the past to spark a future which shifts reality “towards creativity, justice and freedom.”  That’s a tall order.  Traveling across a few less lanes might tighten (and shorten) this unique and inspirational theatrical event.

www.lamama.org