Contemporary American Theatre Festival, 2010

CONTEMPORARY AMERICAN THEATRE FESTIVAL
Sheperdstown, WV
 notes (July 30-August 1 performances)


NOTE ON THESE NOTES:  These are pretty directly transcribed from notes scribbled before and after each performance.  They are not well thought out, not crafted, not deliberated upon.  Gut reactions.
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WHITE PEOPLE
7/30/10
8:30 curtain
So I’ve been driving around after the play, thinking about it, and finally came up with what seems to me to be a condescending judgement but as close as I can come right now:  I liked--admired, even--what the play was trying to do; it could have been much, much worse, but I wish it had done a better job of it.   I wish the playwright had found a better form for what he was trying to do--he seems constrained by his own or others’ expectations.   But he did so many things right--simplicity, getting at the dark heart of what it is to be white in America (or some aspects of it).
The acting and directing were good, I think, considering the simple direct address by fictional characters telling their stories.  They were all talking to us all the time, they seemed to be acting as simply and honestly as they could under the circumstances, but weirdly I never felt any of them were talking directly to me.  Well, maybe the lawyer sometimes.  But I didn’t feel contacted, even when I felt moved.  I think of Glenn really talking to the audience in Thom Paine; this was different.  As if their eyes moved over individuals too quickly to make contact, or as if they were trying to talk to all of us at once.  As a result, I never felt pinned in the way I think I should have.
But what worked was this:  The actors, through the words and their own courage (too big a word for technique?  It did feel like technique), were able to find a real element of fear that felt true, felt like something at the heart of the race question.  Different circumstances for each of them, but similar level of terror.   As I think about it now--and remember what I was experiencing toward the end--the playwright seemed to be saying, “You think we’re dealing with the race question?  We haven’t even scratched the surface of the problem, because it goes way, way deep, and it’s terrifying to go there.”
It’s just too bad that there had to be elements of melodrama and catharsis--and even a glimmer of hope at the end, which seemed even more contrived.  I wish they’d just left me with a quick but very vivid experience of that fear, enough to recognize it in me, without trying to give each story a revelation, a climax, and a catharsis.  Would have been stronger, I think.  The subject needs a stronger, less conventional approach to speak to me.
Notes I wrote immediately before and after--
Theatre:  Center for Contemporary Arts
Space:  Large cube of a room with very high ceiling and sound clouds above; maybe not a dedicated performance space, hard to tell.  Audience of risers (5 levels?) directly faces acting area--no thrust or curve.  House seats maybe 125 at most.  Full house.
Set:  3 spaces each framed by very simple white brick tripartite “proscenium” creating 3 “rooms” (sr: office w/ desk & chair, large rectangle suspended behind and above--St. Louis; cs park bench--Stuyvestant Park, NYC; sl:  kitchen table & chair w/ window frame suspended behind and above balancing the one s.r. (Fayetteville, NC).  Behind each “room” was a large rectangular carpet sample hung on the back wall (different for each space duplicating different carpet on each).  Each space was further isolated by being on it’s own 12” high square platform.  Nice open feel to whole set while isolating each actor in their own different space linked by their common [white] frame.
Set could have been even simpler to through even more focus on the actors, but clearly their environments were significant.
Preshow music:  quiet and pretty tame hip-hop. 
Postshow music:  Tracy Chapman (some sort-of-hopeful song)
Quick reactions:  Very Strongly Mixed because it was a strong play in many ways.  Three different White people. . .  I was moved by the catharsis that each character went through--but I almost wish it wasn’t there--felt contrived or obligatory or conventional.  I wish they each had touched on the deepest fear and left it at that.
But the play worked.  It was saying something true and difficult--and clichéd but no less true.  
Wally Shawn does it better, I think.
(The lawyer had that tight smile that my friend ________ has:  Rage under a mask of reasonableness.  Had it down.  I met the actor briefly the next morning in a coffee place--he begged off talking at length by saying he hadn’t woken up yet, which I understood--and when I told him that his portrayal reminded me of a friend, he said, “I hear that from a lot of people.”  I also noticed that the smile is something that belongs to the actor as well as the character, although it means something different in the actor, I suppose.)
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Breadcrumbs
7/31/10
2:30 curtain
Written while waiting in my seat for the play to begin:
Studio Theatre--nice space!  Small, audience on 4 sides, steeply raked seating.  
Set:  Acting area probably 16’ X 40’.  Weird hanging things (branches?  antlers?  giant earthworms?) suspended below instruments.  One corner:  white door built into black wall with small white squares.  On stage, table w/2 chairs, unit suggesting bottom half of window above a window seat at one end; at other end small flat pedestle/endtable w/ telephone, water pitcher, and an odd-looking glass that is clearly stage-glass and will be broken (cheesy give-away, surprisingly amateurish).
Space leads me to think the play will be interesting but the design worries me--looks a little cheesy or ilk a student design.  (Typing this later and thinking:  How much did my negative estimate of the set design affect my reception of the play?)
Performance:
I think this is a very  well-written play, but it seemed to me badly directed and designed (until the end).  There were such unforgivably cheesy choices for set, sound design, lighting, movement, acting.
The older actor, Helen Jean Arthur, was very demonstrative, very stagey--but what a great role!  The only time I believed her was at the very end when her dementia was so far progressed that she could only sit and speak single words in a gravelly voice unlike her usual “stage” voice with no effort.  I’d love to see a really good older actress do the part.
Eva Kaminsky, the younger actor, was good, if in a bit of a TV way.
It’s the story of a writer’s fall into dementia and it could be even stronger.
Image:  Old woman (old actress) crawling across the stage toward a telephone; powerfully disturbing.
Image:  Bright white door/shadow screen.  Old woman leaves (creeps out almost unnoticed because my attention is on the other actor who is speaking) and her shadow through the door remains, blurring slightly before slowly fading out while the the actor speaks of learning to say goodbye.
The picture of the set at the end, trashed, post-it notes everywhere, was very strong.  A carefully controlled life reduced to shambles.
Image:  A mostly elderly audience watching an elderly actor in a story about the terrors of Alzheimer’s.  In spite of my problems with the production, I found it quite powerful at the end.  I’m sixty; what is it like to be even older and watch your deepest fears unfold in front of you.
(Later notes:  My reactions were not what most people felt.  This production clearly evokes very powerful and positive reactions from most people I talk to.  So:  My problem?  Is there a problem?
Also, I realize I haven’t specified anything that I objected to.  Transitions between scenes seemed clichéd both in movement (dancey) and music (tinkley), and so not interesting.  Opening moment, starting with Alda in the aisle, was interesting but use of that space seemed more for novelty than necessary (I get it that she was entering the world of the play).  The fake glass—sugar glass—bugged the hell out of me.  Badly made and obvious from before the play that it would be thrown down, so when it happened for me it had no dramatic effect.  But my biggest problem with with Helen-Jean Arthur’s acting (which I loved in Eelwax, by the way):  She seemed to be acting in a style from an older time—which might be true, and understandable—and particularly didn’t work in such an intimate space.  Yet I like acting which isn’t hyper-realistic, which is clearly acting.  In some ways, the style worked for the older, imperious character who makes such an effort to maintain distance, but it didn’t seem to reveal or expose, in spite of the dramatic writing.  I liked the fact that she could play a young child but that, too, had the same demonstrative quality.  Physically, I thought she was pretty amazing—very flexible and energetic and strong.
The contrast with the other actor, Eva Kaminsky, was striking.  Was I seeing acting from very different generations?  Maybe.  Kaminsky was very good, and the difference between her two characters was subtle and effective.  She was tremendous in Lidless.
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(Later same day, as I wait for lecture about preserving art in a time of war.)
So now I’ve seen one play that had merits but was poorly (or, to me, uninterestingly) constructed but not realized badly
and another play that seemed beautifully written and badly realized.
What am I learning?
The thing is, I found both experiences rich in spite of problems.  The two plays were trying, and in some measure succeeding, to speak.  
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Lidless
7/31/10
8:30 curtain
(before play begins)
Set:  Interesting!  Chain link fence suspended above stage with one panel at floor level (which will later slide out of the way along a track to open the space.  Floor made to look like large concrete squares with metal borders.  Geometric set--all straight severe lines dividing the space--suggests prison, institution (note:  I deliberately read nothing about these plays before seeing them).  Two benches.
Preshow lighting:  square of light in the center directly below square formed by chain link above.
Audience:  full house, younger than at matinee (mostly middle- as opposed to old-aged)
Preshow sound:  thunder?  waves breaking?  almost subliminal
Written immediately after performance:
Very powerful--not perfect but very well done!
Sound design incredible.
Set:  Absolutely right.
Staging:  I think it was perfect.
Acting:  Very specific, very committed, but often forced.  Nothing held back (is that bad?).  Very effortful, yet they could all act.
Sometimes I wondered why I was not more engaged.  I wondered if I was separating myself from it as a kind of self-protection.  Or I was in shock.  Still feeling quite stunned.
Script:  The writing was great--at times effectively poetic.  The story seemed in a way far-fetched and even contrived, but I think that’s because the reality--torture, fell soldiers humiliating Muslim men, PTSD, thousands of GIs killing themselves later, Gitmo--is unbelievable  (see note on review below).
One element, Iraqi-American soldier/medic with her own tragic history, seemed too much--necessary?  
But I stood and applauded at the end.
(The next morning, I read a review of the play that seemed intelligent.  The reviewer didn’t like the plot and faulted it for unnecessarily making up unbelievable circumstances like the pills that allow a character to selectively forget Gitmo.  More to the point, he says, “We are asked to believe that during their time together at Gitmo, Alice committed an act so outrageous that it not only defied the “Invasion of Space” rules but put her own life at risk, with soap-opera consequences. Sorry, I didn’t buy it.” 
(He concludes:  “The decision of the United States to employ widespread torture in the aftermath of 9/11 is one of the most shameful events in our history, and it deserves an unflinching examination by a writer of Cowhig’s quality. The problem with Lidless is that instead of such an examination, Cowhig has conjured up something that did not happen and would be highly unlikely to happen, and painted it with a melodramatic consequence. Such a treatment ultimately trivializes our despicable actions at Gitmo, and their mortifying real consequences.”
(I have to admit that in the morning’s light I tend to agree.  But the production was so damn well done that I was swept away--and still am.)
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Notes from “Breakfast with Ed” — conversation with Ed Herendeen, Founding Artistic Director of CATF and about twenty patrons.
Great time!  Remarkable guy, very accessible, very interesting.  This was very much an event to build and maintain good relationships and support, but it wasn’t bogus.
CATF — 20th year.  $1 M budget;  $30 M plan for building expansion—idea is to have no space more than 250 seats—stop using larger Frank Center, then expand to seven plays.  Great idea.  He’s right about size and it’s good to hear.  Frank Center theatre similar to Kittredge, other two spaces much better.
Festival has 4 staff during year, 89 during festival (and rehearsal period).
Internship Program:  I’ve talked to a couple of students, Ed, and Peggy McKowen, Assoc. Producing Director (and the person who really runs the internship program, I think).  Very little in the way of training—Friday conversations with artists is it, I think—but it’s a terrific opportunity.  Bit unclear as to how much interns get to move around—well, each one assigned to specific job/department, then used for group calls and as needed, I guess.  Intern earns point toward Equity card.  VERY competitive.  Shepherd students get priority (this year six of eighteen); talked to SM intern, going to Emerson—said she was learning a lot.  I want to urge particular students to apply.  Talked to Peggy about what they look for:  sometimes particular technical skills if they know a production will have extraordinary demands, but the most important thing is a a willingness to work as hard as necessary—very demanding, obviously.  I subtly asked suggested if someone from a work college might have an advantage…  
Need to write both Peggy and Ed to thank and maintain contact.  Dare I send them a link to these notes?
Working with playwrights:  
⁃ Ed describes festival as “playwright-centered” (of course, but takes it pretty far)
⁃ process differs with each playwright (Ed:  “play-by-play approach”)
⁃ some plays change during rehearsal period if playwright is involved throughout, as is often the case.  Once the actors felt strongly that the ending should be different, playwright resisted, after preview playwright agreed and rewrote twelve pages—frantic reworking (tech, too, of course) and an amazing opening night.).
⁃ a lot of readings before four-week rehearsal period, phone consultations between Ed and playwright
⁃ Interestingly, Ed says he doesn’t ask for or suggest changes from playwright but let’s playwright see how work is developing (is this really true?  seems like it would require great restraint—admirable).   I meant to ask him if the playwright ever asks him to change directorial choices.
⁃ no dramaturg—just director (often Ed) and playwright.
Script selection:  Ed chooses all plays.  If script recommended (often by playwrights’ agents), he’ll sit and read entire play in one sitting—goal during year of reading two scripts each day.  By now, agents know what he’s looking for and volume of plays is less.  Some playwrights who have worked with him send him scripts directly.
What he looks for:  Plays that “hit him in the gut” (might not be remembering correctly), good language.  I asked about social/political angle since 3 plays he directed were very focused on current problems.  He spoke of a season as a snapshot of five playwrights’ views of the present moment.
Talked at length about Inana cast members and difficulty of finding good actors of specific ethnicity/culture because they’re working all the time.  Thing is, they work because they always play the bad guys.  Currently, Middle-Eastern types are popular (of course); earlier, Black, Latino, etc.  (Obvious, but interesting, ironic, and of course sad.  But at least they’re working, and with a play like Inana, they get to play more fully-realized characters.  Later I talked to Barzin Akhavan, played lead in Inana and was in Lidless as well—terrific actor—wish I’d asked him about this!)
Casting of plays 90% (of course, but good to hear again).  As director, his purpose is to hire people who are better than him and give up control, let actors educate him (in context of working with actors outside of his own culture).
Problem for festival (like all theatres):  attracting younger audiences.  Difficult because far from metro centers (not on Metro stop).  Working with some area universities in session during summer to bus students in.
(There was much more interesting conversation, but I didn’t take many notes.)
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The Eelwax Jesus 3-D Pop Music Show
8/1/10
Frank Center
1:30 curtain
Pre-show:
Large proscenium theatre (350?  500?)
Actors on stage
DR:  woman in 50s dress ironing; suggestion of living room
DRC
URC:  band area (no musicians)—drum kit, mikes, amps
FAR ULC:  woman sitting on sofa nder lamp, reading
                    woman typing
           man sitting (working?)
LC:  empty sofa, naked mannikin
DLC:  woman in contemporary easy chair, bored, picking at upholstery
DL:  figure, shrouded with overcoat, hat, garbage bags, sitting on mattress watching small video screen
Suspended above SR & UC:  large video screens projecting live feed of stage
Music:  scratchy recording, French, Piaf?
Lighting:  areas lit separately, sense of isolation, but cozy in a way.  Lots of practical lamps; very large, lampshade-like objects suspended above
After performance:
Okay, that’s my kind of show!  Very imagistic, lots of fun.  Actualy thought-provoking (a bit).  Actually painting so bleak and pessimistic a picture that it is making fun of itself for being bleak and pessimistic (yes, very post-modern ironic).
Before play, I heard people say how strange, incomprehensible (and, I assume, inacessible) it was.  It seemed to me perfectly accessible, even obvious.  A little too much so, perhaps.   Definitely not Richard Foreman, et. al.
The music was great!  In it, I heard Neil Young, Dire Straits, Talking Heads, REM, Ramones (or punk music, anyway), can’t remember what else.  But very effective with good lyrics.  Bought a CD at intermission.
The matinee audience just sat there during the music.  Woman behind me said, on the way out, “How could people just sit in their seat?”  (She was laughing uproariously during the dancing vagina (“Gynecology” song.)
This could be another Hedwig for NC Stage.
I loved the elderly actress in this play as much as I disliked her performance in Breadcrumbs.  But I was in love with the actress ironing, who was also terrific in White People. 
All actors were body-miked (thin mike by one cheek, don’t know technical name).  Good choice, especially for spoken scenes with or without music behind and also for Woman Ironing to quietly sing harmonies while ironong—especially in the big house.  Stylistically right.
I know the play was written as a vehicle for the music, but I could have used more or more-developed scenes, especially in Act 2.
There was a drawing for a toaster (I filled out a slip during intermission—two, actually).  Totally and outrageously rigged—yesterday’s lecturer on preserving art & culture in time of war was the winner and was mysteriously seated front row center.
I think there was enough meat on the bones (barely) to make the play more than mere fun.  but it sure showed one obvious way to get away from the pitfalls of earnestness that are so much of a danger in serious theatre.
Well-designed.  Real integrity to the entire production which gave the appearance of fractured juxtaposition of unlike elements.  Good use of this large, deep space.  Interesting how the sense of the past—50s sensibility—pervaded the projections in particular, which were always interesting and rarely distracting—terrific montage of underground nuclear tests (Project Plowshares?) for final song, “I Want Everything.”
Well-directed!  (by one of the composers)
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Inana
8/1/10
Frank Center
6:00 curtain
Pre-show:  No music
Interesting, attactive set:
DL & DR:  What are probably the “Iraqui” areas:  DR has low table with two hassocks as chairs, metal teapot and cups, endtable piled with books; DL is an open space backed by a panel & geometric pattern (kind of modernist Islamic?) which is reflected in similar panel backing DSR area and in panels spanning the width of the stage and  suspended above and behind ceiling molding of center area; UC area largest and includes what looks like a contemporary bedroom with attached bathroom (USL).  Bedroom (turns out to be a London hotel room w/bath) is plush.
DSC area is interesting.  Level changes drops 12” to form a separate acting area below and between other acting areas; another 12” drop below that forms a curved, smaller area--the curve is scalloped.  My interpretation of intention is that it is to suggests the layers which archeological digs reveal, deeper = further back in time.
Color palate of set is tans, browns, red-browns; bedroom area shades into green.  Lovely.
During the action of the play, the panels SL, SR, and above are lit from within to reveal duplicate statues of “Inana” and, above, ancient Persian sandstone (?) bas reliefs.  Very striking, very beautiful. 
The set proclaims, “We spend a lot of money on this production because we think this is an important play.”  Good.
After Act 1:
Very well-done, very realistic production.  Action shifts from London to Mosul, back and forth, present (London) and past (Mosul).
This is a very conventional play in the realistic style (not usually to my taste); it’s very well-acted: clean, focused, careful, committed.  I’m enjoying it, but it is definitely “acting” and a bit demonstrative.  Or maybe it’s just the convention of psychological realism that I have more and more trouble with.
Sound is limited but effective--dramatic toward end of Act 1.
Costumes are very good--convey a lot of information.  Wife’s traditional, modest and very stylish white ensemble, including scarf & headpiece, is beautiful.
I’m impressed that the hour-long first act never sagged.  One long scene punctuated by other flashback scenes set in Mosul.
Even of the American invasion.  All are terrified of what the Americans will do.  The seem to deal with Saddam’s brutalities.
Image:  She stands absolutely still and white in the bathroom behind the closed door while he deals with the room service attendant.
After Act 2:
Just a beautiful play.  Reminds me, strangely, of Tennessee Williams, but it’s a love story with a happy ending.  At the end of Act 2, the raised center stage area (London) splits apart and reaveals a huge blue moon in a black sky (giant disk cut in black masking with blue sic behind and projected upon).  The couple silhouetted in front.  Mad a spectacular visual ending.  (Later note:  At the time, I didn’t quite get the significance of the last image at the beauty of it seemed almost gratuitous; the actor playing the lead described it as “the couple is transported back into the Iraqi desert as they come together” (or words to that effect).  
Really odd:  A very old-fashioned play about very recent and very painful history (for all of us).  A good theatre experience!

King Lear at the Shakespeare Theatre in D.C.

(It's been another year since I posted anything.  Should do better than that.)


THOUGHTS AFTER SEEING KING LEAR AT THE SHAKESPEARE THEATRE, 6/26/09:


In the end, the production was for me dissatisfying.  The dissatisfaction lay primarily in the fact that Stacey Keach’s performance, while clever, theatrical, humorous, and at times moving, wasn’t particularly revealing.  That is, the actor didn’t reveal himself or the subject of the text in his actions, beyond what is revealed by reciting the words themselves.  And even the recitation of the words wasn’t done in a way that allowed their meaning to be revealed in any fundamental way.

That said, it was an interesting production.  Most of the interest lay in taking the idea of violent destruction and following it through in the most graphic ways imaginable--that is, representing the idea of violent destruction in a demonstrative way.  The “way” involved making the acts of violence as believable as possible, even as we were never in any doubt that they were a representation rather than real in any sense.  Acts such as strangling, stabbing, fucking, shooting, or gouging out eyeballs were performed in the most literal ways possible.  This succession of violent images culminated in Cordelias naked and obviously violated body being displayed on the stage.  These acts were shocking because, given the limitations of theatre--mainly the fact that they were, by definition, unbeliveable--they were partially convincing.

But these two issues--the unbelievability of Lear’s revealing of himself and the unbelievability of the acts of violence--are really the same.  Bluntly put, they were faked.  Nothing real was happening.

The strongest, most affecting scene in the play for me was one without spoken text, uncalled for by Shakespeare, and performed in a relatively non-realistic manner:  one after another, figures wrapped in white paper and tape representing dead bodies, were dragged onstage with exaggerated effort (the effort to move the “heavy” bodies was clearly mimed) to the accompaniment of what sounded like the Bulgarian Women’s Choir; then actors who appeared to represent surgeons dressed in white with bloody aprons flung the bodies into an opening in the stage.  At the end of the scene, the blind Gloucester, who at the beginning of the scene was sitting up alive but by the end is lying dead (having recognized his son Edgar in the moment before dying), is picked up and thrown into the opening.  That final moment was instructive:  It broke what had been in a sense “real” (just because there was no attempt to make it convincing) by reminding us once again that the actor playing Gloucester’s dead body was in fact alive.  Interesting.

I actually enjoyed the production, even though it didn’t work for me.  Part of my enjoyment lay in hearing the words which were, with some exceptions, well-acted, even if the style of acting was generally intended to make them as natural and non-literary as possible, often interfering with the clarity of their reception.  The words still came through.  Part of my enjoyment came from the imagery and spectacle.

And yet:  The scale of the spectacle was the most annoying thing about the production.  I guess that’s what was meant by descriptions of the production as “operatic”:  clearly, a whole lot of money was spent on the lavish sets and effects.  Yes, they were big and visually striking.  But they seemed, for the most part, gratuitous.  I kept thinking, “Come on,” or wondering how much money had been spent.  The message seemed to be:  We’re a big professional theatre and we can spend lots of money on a production.  Rather than anything essentially to do with the play.  A spare production would have been much stronger, to my mind.

Situating the play in an Eastern European country which comes apart at the seams (clearly Yugoslavia after Tito) was clever and makes sense.  But in the end it didn’t seem to reveal much about that conflict that we didn’t already know; nor did drawing on the imagery of that modern conflict really reveal too much about what seems to lie at the heart of the play.  No, I take that back.  If a vision of utter senselessness is what lies at the heart of the play, then the setting and imagery was revealing.  But the literal style and the unavoidable sense of fakery undercut any visceral sense of revelation to a great degree.  A great, revealing performance by Keach might have overcome that sense of fakery; his wasn’t that.

Eiko and Koma

It's been 100 years since I posted anything here, but:

Quick reactions to Eiko and Koma's Mourning (UNCA 4/12/08)

Won't describe just react: Maybe the purest acting I've ever seen. One hour long and draining--exhausting by the end because (partly Ron talking--saw it with him) it required the audience to be "present" to an uncomfortable degree. Again, I think that is what makes it the purest kind of theatre.

One thought among many that went through my head: The piece didn't feel "designed" at all--it kept happening--and somehow, from that sensation I was led to think about the importance of finding the right starting place. I don't know what their starting place was (I thought: masses of leaves? Not as it turns out because they used to do it with dirt instead). Anyway, that's one (obvious) way to look at directing: Bring everyone to the same carefully chosen starting place. Benedetti's "alignment", but not exactly. Some way of saying, "Here's where we begin, with these elements, these ideas." Getting them clear for oneself and for others. But only as a starting place, a jumping-off point. (Another blindingly obvious point; almost a platitude.)

Back to the performance: (still don't feel like describing anything, though) I experienced a curious sense of being absolutely riveted and, at the same time (or, at times), self-conciously watching myself, commenting on myself reacting. Part fatigue, I think, but something else, too. Sometimes ok to have that double consciousness, and sometimes annoying, as if I were practicing what I was going to say afterward. But much of the time, just there.

One moment of consternation near the end: out of the leaves, as they were lying there, suddenly the man (Koma?) holds a piece of gray fabric, sort of stiff. Why? What's going to happen with it? Thinking: "Wait, there's no story, I don't want there to be a story, but this object somehow is making it a story (unlike the two arrows with which they entered at the beginning)." Why did the appearance of the cloth make it a story? Then he appeared to smother her with it, and she cried out (only time she made a sound, I think). REALLY disturbing, because it seemed to be an "event" and not immediate in the way it had been. Eventually that feeling of mine went away (maybe in a short time), perhaps because that moment, that cry, didn't seem to develop in a narrative way, thank goodness--though, of course, it was absolutely connected to what followed.

Funny thing is, the piece had a definite shape or structure--the final image was very clearly the final image (though not in a plot-driven way, or even as any kind of resolution except perhaps musically and of course with a long, long fade of the lights)--but, except for the moment with the fabric, I never had a sense of narrative. I didn't even impose a narrative--or even a meaning--on it. I just reacted, sometimes very emotionally and always very intensely, to each moment as it unfolded. Yes, there was an "unfolding" without a narrative: one moment unfolding into the next, leading to the next, but so completely in the moment that I never felt the performers were looking toward the next moment in any way--they were just completely filling the existing moment (one reason, as Ron commented later, for the glacial pace, because it took that long to completely fill each present moment).

(I sound to myself as if I've never seen butoh before. I've had some of these same thoughts watching and reflecting on some of Julie's performances, but I'm thinking them again, partly because of the intensity of the experience, partly because of talking with Ron about it a bit afterward.)

I think this performance (and good butoh in general) is exploring in a very direct way some of the same things the Open Theatre was groping toward (not fair, they were getting closer than anyone before or since, maybe). Also, very, very close to Polish Lab Theatre: I had a strong sense that I was witnessing two people deliberately undergoing something very extreme and completely exposed for me--not in the performative sense but in the sacrificial (sacramental?) sense. They were not "performing" in the usual sense of display, nor were they excluding me in any sense--I was absolutely a part of the immediacy of the event. We were all present in an absolute space and time.

Isn't that where all acting tends? Or rather: Isn't that where I think all serious acting should tend? Insofar as I still think in terms of "shoulds" (and I'm afraid I do).

Spoleto

I just got back from Spoleto this morning. Left Asheville about 10:00 Saturday morning, arrived there at about 3:00. Went to Hampton Park to catch a bit of the Piccolo finale stuff. Hot! They were still sort of setting up, but there was an r & b/jazz group playing good music (a terrific "Summertime"--thought of you, Bev, when the singer said the Gershwins had written it in Charleston) and I ate yummy fried plantains. Stayed as long as I could stand the heat (about 45 minutes) and headed downtown. Found a parking place! Saw "The Cody Rivers Show" at 5:00--you're right, Bev, it was really, really funny. The little puppet scenes in the camping sketch were my favorite. But I had to leave 10 minutes early to make it to my 2nd show, "Samurai 7.0" by Beau Jest Moving Theatre (I'd heard of them somewhere years ago). Should have stayed at the first one--"Samurai" was really bad, to my mind, but in an interesting way: Sort of as if my Otrabanda friends and I had decided to get back together after 30 years or so, having learned nothing in the meantime except how to put on weight (that's a bit cruel--and one of them seemed to be anorexic, actually), we had made a new play using theatrics that seemed so cool in the early 70's but now seem very dated. It was really disturbing. And incredibly boring. An object lesson: I sure need to watch out for just recycling old, outdated stuff. Although there was actually one very cool effect where each of the nine actors held up a long stalk of grass and trembled and waved it to the sound of wind. In contrast to other effects that you could tell the actors and director thought were cool but weren't, this one was quite striking.

But: "The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny" was great! Well, I'm not sure the opera itself is great--although the cumulative effect was quite powerful, there were periods where I was wishing they would just get on with it. But the design! Fantastic--kind of updated, very big budget Brecht. Bev, I think you would have either really liked or really hated the costuming (no, you would have liked it), particularly the colors--very, very bold and in combinations that should have, to my untutored eye, clashed but didn't. Kind of like minor chords in colors: kelly green and chartreuse and hot pink (?) and orange and electric blues. Those were the male chorus colors. The female chorus (prostitutes, what else?) were not quite so electric -- wait, here's a link to some photos (but they don't do the colors justice--much more vivid than in these photos):

http://www.playbillarts.com/news/article/6601.html

The photos don't show the makeup on the men's chorus members--they made their first entrance down the aisles, and I had an aisle seat--cool. I saw them up very close, and the makeup was also bold and expressionistic, but in colors, not just black and white.

The piece was set in the time it was written--late 20's, but wildly exaggerated and expressionistic (again, true to the era). No obvious contemporary references, though one couldn't help but think of Katrina (see next paragraph).

The set was amazing, too--again, big-budget Brechtian elements such as a couple of huge "half-curtains" that were actually huge sheets of corregated steel. The end of Act One was played in front of a HUGE painted drop with a very abstract representation of a satellite image of Katrina hitting the Gulf (the story involves hurricanes almost destroying the city of Mahagonny twice--very topical) which, at the very end, dropped to the floor revealing the massed chorus behind. Wow. There was a great scene when they do a drunken mock ship voyage in a barroom by rolling some characters around on a large pool table (might have horrified you, Don, come to think of it). See one of the photos. Also had a really huge bar that moved around. And the two half-curtains/corregated sheets were used in all kinds of ways, always to good effect.

The music was great, needless to say (though I like the music to Threepenny much more), and the singing was, well, operatic, but with a good deal of Brechtian growls and howls thrown in, as well as some speaking. I'm glad they sang in German--it helped keep the whole think in the right mode, given that it wasn't set in America but in a crazed, bizarre, fantasy-America visualized by someone (Brecht & friends) in love with and horrified by an America of gangsters, jazz, boxing, and corruption.

There were a couple of moments/lyrics/ideas that stopped me cold: 1) The idea that hurricanes might wreak a lot of havoc but it's nothing compared to what can be done by humans seeking pleasure; 2) The idea that we put so much energy into creating desire--advertising--and the longing to have desires fulfilled is enormous and potentially violent, but the longing is all there is; once the thing is bought (drink/person/etc.), it loses it's allure. That seems a very contemporary idea (walking past all those trendy shops on King Street....). The opera is deeply, deeply cynical, and so, in a sense, unsatisfying. But the anthem at the end, massed voices endlessly repeating, "There's nothing you can do for a dead man.." (at least that's how I remember it). Very strong.

So I liked it a lot, and it gives me a few ideas for Threepenny--but we'll see. Don't think the budget will really stretch to fit. But I sure don't want to make ours a tame production after seeing this one!

Welcome

This blog constitues a continuation (after a hiatus) of a blog begun during a sabbatical spent (among other activities) attending theatre of different kinds: descriptions of performances, thoughts inspired by them, readings, thoughts inspired by them, etc.

Here's the link back to that blog: Contemporary Performances

Now if I can just post to the damn thing...