This Friday, I went to see No Child... on the main stage at Woolly Mammoth, the second of its concurrent offerings of one-woman shows (the other being the remarkable The K of D, as reviewed by yours truly just below). This was a very different experience than K, despite the surface similarities- one of the largest being that this piece is not only autobiographical but written and performed by its creator, Nilaja Sun. Ms. Sun based the play on her experiences working as a teaching artist with high school students in the Bronx and creates something that rings VERY true onstage.
Perhaps I should explain a few things right out of the gate.
1) I've spent the last 2.5 years working as a teacher's assistant, so I KNOW me some teacher-talk.
2) It's basically the dearest wish of my heart to one day be a teaching artist in the position of Ms. Sun- to come into schools and share the Awesome of the theatre with kids
3) Ever since I sobbed like a baby at Mr. Holland's Opus (TRY and tell me that you didn't do the same- I DARE YOU), I've been something of a sucker for Inspiring Teacher Stories
So I walked into Woolly on Friday night ready and raring to be WOWED, to have my socks knocked clean off and needing to be tracked down across the aisles after the curtain call. Ms. Sun's performance certainly didn't disappoint- she's a master at creating the myriad of characters she puts on her stage. You're never in doubt as to who she's portraying at any moment- she establishes each character with a core movement or stance and a manner of speaking that she's able to switch between with the proverbial lightening speed. It's an impressive spectacle. The energy onstage was equaled in the enthralled audience around me- at the final blackout, I could hear the subscriber next to me breathe out a quiet Wow... as she surged into applause- an emotion echoed across the theatre, as patrons quickly rose to their feet to applaud Ms. Sun. I certainly followed suit- but I'm not ready to say this production quite met everything I was hoping for.
It's a familiar story, but then, that's what we expect. Recalcitrant youths are slowly pulled into creating their shining night upon the stage. Not everything is perfect and there are many a bump along the way, but it's a satisfying arc with a healthy dose of pathos that doesn't fall into the easy trap of sentimentality. There's some wonderful points being made at the absurdity of the strictures of No Child Left Behind that urgently need to be heard- there's a lot being made of the resonance of Ms. Sun's Bronx setting and our own DC public school system, and rightfully so.
I think I just wanted MORE- the play is only an hour long, after all, and I sat there KNOWING there was so much more that could be said, so much more story to be made from these remarkable lives Ms. Sun introduces to her audiences. My expectations were very high for all the reasons I set out so helpfully before you, and I can say that one of the things that pleased me about this production was how true it all rang. Non-teachers will definitely be able to recognise the characters they see onstage as expertly crafted, shorthand versions of real, gloriously complex people, but there are added moments of, Ahh! for the teachers in the audience, moments that made me want to raise my hand (ah, how apropos) and shout YES! Yes, that's it EXACTLY!
There's some wonderful humour in the piece and there was a palpable sense of community in the performance I watched on Friday. Ms. Sun does a fantastic job of drawing her audience in to her story- I honestly think I might have been one of very few people in the house that night that had any reservations about what they'd seen.
I think I'm going to say 3.5 stars for this one- I think it's a story that's worth telling and worth hearing, especially in Washington. If I wish that it could have been more, it's because what it already IS is of such high quality.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
There's a new game in town...
After much cajoling, a new blogger has emerged from the mists of 'Two Hours Traffic', one with no less passion and geektastic knowledge of theatre than this blog's noble founder, but with a little something different to bring to the table. A little something like... *FLAILING* and CAPSLOCK!
THT assures me that there's a place here for bloggers like myself, so I wanted to share a few brief thoughts about productions that have just opened in the last week. In the past week, I was able to attend performances of The K of D at Woolly Mammoth and Argonautika at the Shakespeare Theatre (compare and contrast our thoughts in the original review below!).
First, let me say the simple response that came from seeing these two shows: GO. Just... GO NOW. GOGOGOGOGOGO. The two plays are massively different pieces of theatre, but each is an incredibly powerful new work that demands to be seen.
The K of D is a one-woman play by Laura Schellhardt being staged in Woolly's rehearsal hall. It's a tiny space, made STILL TINIER by the sheets draped around the stage and audience. But never fear- those sheets serve a purpose as screens for shadow and light that are used to massive effect throughout. It's such a small show in some ways, but it's a fantastic example of how theatre doesn't need flashy FX and big budgets to be capable of producing a heartstopping moment.
The main reason, of course, to see this play is Kimberly Gilbert. Honestly, I should be able to stop right there and let you scramble off to buy your tickets (80 seats in the house and a limited run so MOVE IT) because, yes, she is That Good. She plays more than a dozen characters in the course of the evening and convinces you ENTIRELY of each one. There's never a moment of doubt in your mind who she's meant to be from moment to moment and it's remarkable to watch her total transformation and sublimation of self into these roles.
I also should say at this point that, while I'd still stand by my statement that watching KG go to town is worth the price of admission (did you not SEE her in Martha, Josie, and the Chinese Elvis?), this isn't a play that's just about letting an actor show off for an audience. This play is GOOD. It's such a brilliant piece of storytelling, one that gets to the heart and soul of the art and furthermore, relentlessly pokes at the question of WHY we tell stories in the first place. The subtitle of the evening is 'An Urban Legend' and while of course there's the element of 'I've got one!' that's known so well to us all, there's so much more behind it all. There's such a vulnerability in the Girl who tells the story of the K of D, something so very brave in standing alone before eighty people and having the strength to raise her voice and tell Charlotte's story.
GO. GOGOGOGOGOGOGO. GO. You'll be grateful that you got to see it, I promise.
4.5 stars. Easy. Kimberly is a goddess and this story is a thing of beauty, brilliantly told by the playwright and the director.
As you've already read one review of Argonautika, my thoughts will be brief. Well, I continue my refrain of GOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGO, obviously. But wait- you want more? FINE.
Basically, it blew me away with the power of its amazingness. I had gone earlier in the day to the Windows discussion hosted by the Theatre, and had fallen just a wee bit in love with Mary Zimmerman. Folks, she is SASSY and kind of looks like a rumpled up college professor at whose feet you just want to curl up and be her protege for as long as she'll have you. She uses silly voices and flails with her hands while she speaks and she is AWESOME. :D
I'd never gotten to see any of her plays before and was, I admit, a little worried. I knew the spectacle would be incredible and pretty and blahblahcreativecakes, but I feel that a long time ago, I'd read that for all their gorgeous pageantry, her shows lacked the accompanying emotional resonance and ended up being a little hollow.
This is NOT AT ALL THE CASE for this show. It tore my heart out, people- the loss of Hylas was gutting and then, oh god, then came Medea. I've always been fascinated by her story, from what you read in Hamilton to Euripides and even Marie Christine, the musical by Michael John LaChiusa that took the legend and mixed it in with the story of the daughter of Marie Laveau. So it's not incorrect in thinking that I might have both a bias and very high standards when it comes to this character. Therefore, take it as high praise when I say that MZ gave her a fascinating spin. I kind of hate to describe it in detail here, as it MUST be seen, but what the hey- just promise you'll believe me when I say that I feel like I can describe this ONE image because the play provides SO MANY MORE.
When we first see her, she's almost catatonic, lolling in a chair in the corner of the stage and not paying the least bit of attention to these wacky Argonauts who've come a-calling. It's then that she's hit with Eros' arrow (carried across the stage by Aphrodite, who just.. stabs her with it) and she's reeling and barely makes it off stage. When next we see her, she's wearing a belt over the dress that's rigged as though the arrow were permanently lodged in her torso, with the point gone clear through her back. Where it 'hits', there's a tiny bit of blood on the belt and needleworking in red in sinuous patterns along the length of the material. It's horrifying, really it is. More than anything else I'd ever seen, it underscored the violence of the upheaval in her life, of this sudden love she has for her father's enemy and all the violence that will happen in the future. The actress who plays her did a fantastic job with her physicality, giving her this awkwardness and uncertainty in all her movements, as though (stay with me here) Medea were the Weird Girl that no one would talk to high school. I had a flash of Ally Sheedy in 'Breakfast Club'- she's strange and does bizarre things and bursts in with non sequitors and off-kilter remarks and you don't know what to DO with her so you just don't try. As time and the story goes on, that arrow never leaves her body, and as she throws her lot in with Jason and the betrayals and murders start, the bloodstains on her dress, leaking from her wound, become larger and larger until her dress is almost entirely red. It is a STUNNING stage picture to watch unfold. Just... wow. MZ remarked in the talk that while writing the play, she had jokingly invented a second title for the piece: Medea, and How She Got There. It shows.
BESIDES all the awesome Medea stuff, there's so much humour that I wasn't really expecting. There's a wonderful fluidity in the ensemble's ability to go from choral verse to contemporary speech patterns, not to mention the kickass-ity of the ensemble in general. And MUSIC oh my LORD- the women of Lemnos' story is told in a heartwrenching song that yeah, kind of reworks their story and leaves out the whole, you know, spurning Aphrodite = MAKE YOU SMELLY! thing but it's BEAUTIFUL and I DON'T CARE. They also turned the listing of the Argonauts into this awesome chant thing that makes you want to jump from your seat and join the crazy expedition- which is entirely the point, oh MZ I have such a crush on you...
So now I pretty much want to go reread everything about Greek mythology EVER, or least Medea and just...
PEOPLE. If you at all can, GO SEE. It's beautiful and funny and heartbreaking and BEAUTIFUL and it's not empty, not at all, it's GLORIOUS. I honestly did want to sit in silence in an empty theatre when it was done- for all the infectious good spirit of the curtain call, I wanted to curl up with my miraculous play and let it settle. Yes. It was THAT GOOD.
4.5 out of 5, because I feel like I'll get a reputation as the Easy Girl if I go and give away my 5 Star First Time off the bat.
I'm basically a sucker for stories about stories and this week was as though someone told the Good Theatre Fairy that I had been minding my manners well enough to deserve a Special Treat and I was granted two plays that hit my most favoritest Awesome Button with a solid THUNK (you know about Awesome Buttons- those little themes or motifs that, any time you see them, their very presence is enough for wellsprings of joy to flow forth from deep within your soul that can carry you through hours of lesser entertainment)
THT assures me that there's a place here for bloggers like myself, so I wanted to share a few brief thoughts about productions that have just opened in the last week. In the past week, I was able to attend performances of The K of D at Woolly Mammoth and Argonautika at the Shakespeare Theatre (compare and contrast our thoughts in the original review below!).
First, let me say the simple response that came from seeing these two shows: GO. Just... GO NOW. GOGOGOGOGOGO. The two plays are massively different pieces of theatre, but each is an incredibly powerful new work that demands to be seen.
The K of D is a one-woman play by Laura Schellhardt being staged in Woolly's rehearsal hall. It's a tiny space, made STILL TINIER by the sheets draped around the stage and audience. But never fear- those sheets serve a purpose as screens for shadow and light that are used to massive effect throughout. It's such a small show in some ways, but it's a fantastic example of how theatre doesn't need flashy FX and big budgets to be capable of producing a heartstopping moment.
The main reason, of course, to see this play is Kimberly Gilbert. Honestly, I should be able to stop right there and let you scramble off to buy your tickets (80 seats in the house and a limited run so MOVE IT) because, yes, she is That Good. She plays more than a dozen characters in the course of the evening and convinces you ENTIRELY of each one. There's never a moment of doubt in your mind who she's meant to be from moment to moment and it's remarkable to watch her total transformation and sublimation of self into these roles.
I also should say at this point that, while I'd still stand by my statement that watching KG go to town is worth the price of admission (did you not SEE her in Martha, Josie, and the Chinese Elvis?), this isn't a play that's just about letting an actor show off for an audience. This play is GOOD. It's such a brilliant piece of storytelling, one that gets to the heart and soul of the art and furthermore, relentlessly pokes at the question of WHY we tell stories in the first place. The subtitle of the evening is 'An Urban Legend' and while of course there's the element of 'I've got one!' that's known so well to us all, there's so much more behind it all. There's such a vulnerability in the Girl who tells the story of the K of D, something so very brave in standing alone before eighty people and having the strength to raise her voice and tell Charlotte's story.
GO. GOGOGOGOGOGOGO. GO. You'll be grateful that you got to see it, I promise.
4.5 stars. Easy. Kimberly is a goddess and this story is a thing of beauty, brilliantly told by the playwright and the director.
As you've already read one review of Argonautika, my thoughts will be brief. Well, I continue my refrain of GOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGO, obviously. But wait- you want more? FINE.
Basically, it blew me away with the power of its amazingness. I had gone earlier in the day to the Windows discussion hosted by the Theatre, and had fallen just a wee bit in love with Mary Zimmerman. Folks, she is SASSY and kind of looks like a rumpled up college professor at whose feet you just want to curl up and be her protege for as long as she'll have you. She uses silly voices and flails with her hands while she speaks and she is AWESOME. :D
I'd never gotten to see any of her plays before and was, I admit, a little worried. I knew the spectacle would be incredible and pretty and blahblahcreativecakes, but I feel that a long time ago, I'd read that for all their gorgeous pageantry, her shows lacked the accompanying emotional resonance and ended up being a little hollow.
This is NOT AT ALL THE CASE for this show. It tore my heart out, people- the loss of Hylas was gutting and then, oh god, then came Medea. I've always been fascinated by her story, from what you read in Hamilton to Euripides and even Marie Christine, the musical by Michael John LaChiusa that took the legend and mixed it in with the story of the daughter of Marie Laveau. So it's not incorrect in thinking that I might have both a bias and very high standards when it comes to this character. Therefore, take it as high praise when I say that MZ gave her a fascinating spin. I kind of hate to describe it in detail here, as it MUST be seen, but what the hey- just promise you'll believe me when I say that I feel like I can describe this ONE image because the play provides SO MANY MORE.
When we first see her, she's almost catatonic, lolling in a chair in the corner of the stage and not paying the least bit of attention to these wacky Argonauts who've come a-calling. It's then that she's hit with Eros' arrow (carried across the stage by Aphrodite, who just.. stabs her with it) and she's reeling and barely makes it off stage. When next we see her, she's wearing a belt over the dress that's rigged as though the arrow were permanently lodged in her torso, with the point gone clear through her back. Where it 'hits', there's a tiny bit of blood on the belt and needleworking in red in sinuous patterns along the length of the material. It's horrifying, really it is. More than anything else I'd ever seen, it underscored the violence of the upheaval in her life, of this sudden love she has for her father's enemy and all the violence that will happen in the future. The actress who plays her did a fantastic job with her physicality, giving her this awkwardness and uncertainty in all her movements, as though (stay with me here) Medea were the Weird Girl that no one would talk to high school. I had a flash of Ally Sheedy in 'Breakfast Club'- she's strange and does bizarre things and bursts in with non sequitors and off-kilter remarks and you don't know what to DO with her so you just don't try. As time and the story goes on, that arrow never leaves her body, and as she throws her lot in with Jason and the betrayals and murders start, the bloodstains on her dress, leaking from her wound, become larger and larger until her dress is almost entirely red. It is a STUNNING stage picture to watch unfold. Just... wow. MZ remarked in the talk that while writing the play, she had jokingly invented a second title for the piece: Medea, and How She Got There. It shows.
BESIDES all the awesome Medea stuff, there's so much humour that I wasn't really expecting. There's a wonderful fluidity in the ensemble's ability to go from choral verse to contemporary speech patterns, not to mention the kickass-ity of the ensemble in general. And MUSIC oh my LORD- the women of Lemnos' story is told in a heartwrenching song that yeah, kind of reworks their story and leaves out the whole, you know, spurning Aphrodite = MAKE YOU SMELLY! thing but it's BEAUTIFUL and I DON'T CARE. They also turned the listing of the Argonauts into this awesome chant thing that makes you want to jump from your seat and join the crazy expedition- which is entirely the point, oh MZ I have such a crush on you...
So now I pretty much want to go reread everything about Greek mythology EVER, or least Medea and just...
PEOPLE. If you at all can, GO SEE. It's beautiful and funny and heartbreaking and BEAUTIFUL and it's not empty, not at all, it's GLORIOUS. I honestly did want to sit in silence in an empty theatre when it was done- for all the infectious good spirit of the curtain call, I wanted to curl up with my miraculous play and let it settle. Yes. It was THAT GOOD.
4.5 out of 5, because I feel like I'll get a reputation as the Easy Girl if I go and give away my 5 Star First Time off the bat.
I'm basically a sucker for stories about stories and this week was as though someone told the Good Theatre Fairy that I had been minding my manners well enough to deserve a Special Treat and I was granted two plays that hit my most favoritest Awesome Button with a solid THUNK (you know about Awesome Buttons- those little themes or motifs that, any time you see them, their very presence is enough for wellsprings of joy to flow forth from deep within your soul that can carry you through hours of lesser entertainment)
Monday, January 21, 2008
Shakespeare Theatre's Argonautika
Mary Zimmerman’s Argonautika, currently running at the Shakespeare Theatre, would be more accurately described as a theatrical event than as a play. It is an evening of tight ensemble work that explores the myth of Jason and the quest for the Golden Fleece. It manages to be magical and irreverent, touching and funny, spectacular and fun. The imaginative way in which Zimmerman and the cast and crew approach the story keeps the well-known myth fresh and exciting.
Long ago an oracle told King Pelias, Jason’s uncle, that he should fear the one sandaled man. When Jason visits wearing one sandal, after losing the other crossing a rough river while bearing the goddess Hera on his back, Pelias plots to get rid of him. Pelias promises Jason the kingdom if he can sail across treacherous seas and bring back the Golden Fleece. Jason agrees, having little choice. He gathers his crew, which includes Hercules, Atalanta, Idmon the seer and others. The crew is watched over by the goddesses Athena and Hera, who serve as their guides and our narrators. Jason and his crew encounter nymphs, sea monsters, angry gods, lusty women, and other perils before coming to the island of Colchis.
There the arrogant King Aeetes promises Jason the Golden Fleece if and only if he can yoke a pair of fire breathing oxen and sow serpent teeth into the ground. Hera and Aphrodite convince Eros to shoot an arrow into Media, Aeetes daughter, causing her to fall in love with Jason. She helps him complete this task, get the Golden Fleece, and escape, forsaking her home, country, and family.
The true ensemble nature of this piece is present throughout – from the chorus introduction spoken by all in unison to the quick unassuming curtail call to the program in which the actors are listed as playing their main part “and others.” It is difficult to point out all the strong performances. They range from the almost always present sarcastic and strong Sofia Jean Gomez as Athena to the 30 seconds of another actress as the water nymph, whose physicality was truly fluid and rippling. Unfortunately, Jake Suffian’s performance as Jason was as wooden as the set surrounding him. But the strength of the ensemble and the nature of the work keep this from being distracting in all but a couple scenes.
The costumes and set, designed by Ana Kuzmanic and Daniel Ostling are deceptively simply and incredibly striking. The set adapts to the changing locale. Sailors can sit and row, and kings can rule standing from a high balcony. Water nymphs rise from the floor, and gods descend from above. The exits can be a door in a house, or the gates of hell. The costumes put most of the characters in vaguely Greek inspired white shirts and shorts or skirts. In these are great details, such as a white trim creating an eye shape on the shirt of Idmon the seer. Medea’s white dress becomes stained with red as she suffers from her love wound. As she commits more and more crimes, and grows deeper and deeper in love, the red spreads, signifying her love, but also the blood shed during Jason and Medea’s escape, and the blood that is yet to be shed when Jason leaves Medea.
This production contains a lot of what it best about theatre – a group of people gathering to share a story. Mary Zimmerman and her cast are endlessly inventive as they share this story with us – refusing to let any traditional rules of the theatre hold them back. They find whatever device tells the story best from moment to moment – whether it is a monologue, a song, puppets, or two eyes held in a large green sheet. They create an evening that is hard to describe, and hard to forget.
4 stars
Through March 2nd
Long ago an oracle told King Pelias, Jason’s uncle, that he should fear the one sandaled man. When Jason visits wearing one sandal, after losing the other crossing a rough river while bearing the goddess Hera on his back, Pelias plots to get rid of him. Pelias promises Jason the kingdom if he can sail across treacherous seas and bring back the Golden Fleece. Jason agrees, having little choice. He gathers his crew, which includes Hercules, Atalanta, Idmon the seer and others. The crew is watched over by the goddesses Athena and Hera, who serve as their guides and our narrators. Jason and his crew encounter nymphs, sea monsters, angry gods, lusty women, and other perils before coming to the island of Colchis.
There the arrogant King Aeetes promises Jason the Golden Fleece if and only if he can yoke a pair of fire breathing oxen and sow serpent teeth into the ground. Hera and Aphrodite convince Eros to shoot an arrow into Media, Aeetes daughter, causing her to fall in love with Jason. She helps him complete this task, get the Golden Fleece, and escape, forsaking her home, country, and family.
The true ensemble nature of this piece is present throughout – from the chorus introduction spoken by all in unison to the quick unassuming curtail call to the program in which the actors are listed as playing their main part “and others.” It is difficult to point out all the strong performances. They range from the almost always present sarcastic and strong Sofia Jean Gomez as Athena to the 30 seconds of another actress as the water nymph, whose physicality was truly fluid and rippling. Unfortunately, Jake Suffian’s performance as Jason was as wooden as the set surrounding him. But the strength of the ensemble and the nature of the work keep this from being distracting in all but a couple scenes.
The costumes and set, designed by Ana Kuzmanic and Daniel Ostling are deceptively simply and incredibly striking. The set adapts to the changing locale. Sailors can sit and row, and kings can rule standing from a high balcony. Water nymphs rise from the floor, and gods descend from above. The exits can be a door in a house, or the gates of hell. The costumes put most of the characters in vaguely Greek inspired white shirts and shorts or skirts. In these are great details, such as a white trim creating an eye shape on the shirt of Idmon the seer. Medea’s white dress becomes stained with red as she suffers from her love wound. As she commits more and more crimes, and grows deeper and deeper in love, the red spreads, signifying her love, but also the blood shed during Jason and Medea’s escape, and the blood that is yet to be shed when Jason leaves Medea.
This production contains a lot of what it best about theatre – a group of people gathering to share a story. Mary Zimmerman and her cast are endlessly inventive as they share this story with us – refusing to let any traditional rules of the theatre hold them back. They find whatever device tells the story best from moment to moment – whether it is a monologue, a song, puppets, or two eyes held in a large green sheet. They create an evening that is hard to describe, and hard to forget.
4 stars
Through March 2nd
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