Creepy, disturbing, imperfect, but absolutely affecting.
Chuck Rose's "Twilight Zone"-for-the-Bush-II-years play is a nicely crafted piece of solid science fiction, and as such delivers a social commentary punch to the gut. Set in what the old show "Max Headroom" called "15 minutes in the future", this is a "No Exit" for today: several people--industrialists, Captains of Industry and entertainers--peruse a new, high-tech fallout shelter when the worst happens and they're all locked in by the corporation who designed it, supposedly for their own good.
What comes of this is a somewhat transparent, but nonetheless taut and well-seen allegory of tensions over the neo-con notion of "security": don't ask questions, trust your keepers, sacrifice without thought. Thrown in to this mix through various references and voice-overs (from the little corporate-cleared "news" this poor lot can receive on their TV monitor) is the notion that the corporation who runs this zoo (and possibly others, unseen) is working with the government to bring things back to "normal". Just like Mussolini would have liked. Or the Bush administration.
The play is not without some plot holes, and some of the character arcs you can see coming (and personally I felt that Rose could have been even harder on the fascists running the show). But the superb ensemble and tight direction from Kappy Kilburn manage keep these in the background, maintaining your focus on the action. Only the amateurish sound design reminds you that this is low-tech, small LA theatre. Otherwise, the knot in your stomach as you leave tells you that this is as solid a theatre experience as you get.
Good, bad or indifferent, I would be hard pressed to tell you the last time I left the theater and had such a heated conversation with my theater-going partner. And I'm still digesting this thought-provoking production. Surely there's something to be said for that in Los Angeles!
Bottom line: A-
Til next time!
--HDSQ, Jr
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
"Proof", produced by Rosalind Productions at the Odyssey Theatre Ensemble
I have seen many productions of David Auburn's clever and touching play, and from the get-go, I have to say up front that this was my very least favorite.
Now, I know it's not fair to compare one production to another, and that a good critic analyzes a piece on its own merits. So putting aside even the ify workshop version of "Proof" I once saw that still put this expensive production to shame, I will attempt to do just that.
For those of you who don't know the plot of this gem, it's (very basically) the story of a young girl who has just missed out on her college years for single-handedly taking care of her mentally ill mathematics genius of a father. The play jumps back and forth in time, showing moments of their relationship before his death and her attempts to cope with his loss, exposing the possibility that she inherited not only his brilliance but his insanity.
The main character of this drama, Catherine, is repeatedly mentioned to be 25 years-old -- which considering the story's time-line makes sense. She can still go back to school without feeling like she's missed too much time -- a point of some discussion. So perhaps someone can explain to me why the actress cast in this lead role -- Abigail Rose Solomon -- looks, sounds and acts like a 36-year-old soccer mom. It is a CONSTANT distraction. She just doesn't fit. And worse: on the night I saw her she just didn't know how to act. Apart from getting character's names wrong and bobbling lines (the show was weeks into opening, so there really was no excuse), she spat out her lines as if she had utterly no interest in using them to respond to what was being said to her. No stakes (but for the occasional bout of shouting), no connection, no sense of back story, no relish in the wonderfully dry wit of the character. Basically she played one note the whole night: loud. Maybe it was one of those "bad nights" actors can have. REALLY bad. Still, the casting was simply awful here. How did no one notice this?? And then my theatre-going partner noticed this little item in the program: Abigail Rose Solomon is not only the star...she's one of the PRODUCERS of Rosalind Productions, who is renting out the space at the Odyssey to present this play.
So now it's clear: this is a vanity production thrust upon Los Angeles theatre goers!
Moving on:
Ariana Johns as her sister Claire fares little better. Drab, uninspired and devoid of stakes, she wandered around the set seeming to have strayed into the wrong production, like the "actor's nightmare", and stuck on stage now had to make the best of it. And again, casting issues: even if we were to believe that Catherine was actually 25, her sister, as played by Ms. Johns would be close to 15-20 years her senior. I know this can happen in families, but it seemed a poor choice for the show. She ALSO blew lines.
Comparatively, the work of the remaining two cast members -- veteran actor Greg Mullavey and Micah Freedman, as Catherine's father and almost-boyfriend, respectively -- was delightful. Mullavey brought real depth and a quiet center to the man facing his own slow demise, sadly needing to hang on to his daughter for sanity (and his acting chops made up for HIS line flubs). Still, he rarely really connected to the actress playing his daughter (then again, consider what he had to work with.) And Freedman was terrifically sweet, believably nerdy and well-meaning in what is probably the least interestingly written character in the piece -- a case when casting the right actor helps a role bloom. He might be the only actor who didn't stumble on lines that night -- or maybe merely by comparison to the others....
Adam Blumenthal's set was a beautifully-wrought back porch of a not-entirely well-maintained house. Sadly, the back of the set was not well insulated, so you could hear every movement of the cast backstage as the show went on. I noticed there was no sound designer listed, which makes me feel a little bit better about saying that the inter-scene music and sound was sloppy, unproduced sounding, unimaginative and bland. But still...they had the money to build this lovely set but NOT hire a sound designer? They sure could have used one, as the transitions from one scene and time to another felt clunky, awkward and choiceless (a word I feel applies to most of this production): none of the music told us anything about the tone of the show--the tracks were merely placeholders.
I have to say that I am actually quite astonished that this mess was directed by LA favorite Elina DeSantos, whose work I have admired for some time. Perhaps this was the best she could get out of this often amateurish cast. Perhaps she was a gun-for-hire who was paid by the producer/star to take the cast sight-unseen and make them look good. Despite her typically simple, clear staging, even Ms. DeSantos couldn't work that Herculean task.
Bottom line: D+
Till next time!
--HDSQ, Jr.
Now, I know it's not fair to compare one production to another, and that a good critic analyzes a piece on its own merits. So putting aside even the ify workshop version of "Proof" I once saw that still put this expensive production to shame, I will attempt to do just that.
For those of you who don't know the plot of this gem, it's (very basically) the story of a young girl who has just missed out on her college years for single-handedly taking care of her mentally ill mathematics genius of a father. The play jumps back and forth in time, showing moments of their relationship before his death and her attempts to cope with his loss, exposing the possibility that she inherited not only his brilliance but his insanity.
The main character of this drama, Catherine, is repeatedly mentioned to be 25 years-old -- which considering the story's time-line makes sense. She can still go back to school without feeling like she's missed too much time -- a point of some discussion. So perhaps someone can explain to me why the actress cast in this lead role -- Abigail Rose Solomon -- looks, sounds and acts like a 36-year-old soccer mom. It is a CONSTANT distraction. She just doesn't fit. And worse: on the night I saw her she just didn't know how to act. Apart from getting character's names wrong and bobbling lines (the show was weeks into opening, so there really was no excuse), she spat out her lines as if she had utterly no interest in using them to respond to what was being said to her. No stakes (but for the occasional bout of shouting), no connection, no sense of back story, no relish in the wonderfully dry wit of the character. Basically she played one note the whole night: loud. Maybe it was one of those "bad nights" actors can have. REALLY bad. Still, the casting was simply awful here. How did no one notice this?? And then my theatre-going partner noticed this little item in the program: Abigail Rose Solomon is not only the star...she's one of the PRODUCERS of Rosalind Productions, who is renting out the space at the Odyssey to present this play.
So now it's clear: this is a vanity production thrust upon Los Angeles theatre goers!
Moving on:
Ariana Johns as her sister Claire fares little better. Drab, uninspired and devoid of stakes, she wandered around the set seeming to have strayed into the wrong production, like the "actor's nightmare", and stuck on stage now had to make the best of it. And again, casting issues: even if we were to believe that Catherine was actually 25, her sister, as played by Ms. Johns would be close to 15-20 years her senior. I know this can happen in families, but it seemed a poor choice for the show. She ALSO blew lines.
Comparatively, the work of the remaining two cast members -- veteran actor Greg Mullavey and Micah Freedman, as Catherine's father and almost-boyfriend, respectively -- was delightful. Mullavey brought real depth and a quiet center to the man facing his own slow demise, sadly needing to hang on to his daughter for sanity (and his acting chops made up for HIS line flubs). Still, he rarely really connected to the actress playing his daughter (then again, consider what he had to work with.) And Freedman was terrifically sweet, believably nerdy and well-meaning in what is probably the least interestingly written character in the piece -- a case when casting the right actor helps a role bloom. He might be the only actor who didn't stumble on lines that night -- or maybe merely by comparison to the others....
Adam Blumenthal's set was a beautifully-wrought back porch of a not-entirely well-maintained house. Sadly, the back of the set was not well insulated, so you could hear every movement of the cast backstage as the show went on. I noticed there was no sound designer listed, which makes me feel a little bit better about saying that the inter-scene music and sound was sloppy, unproduced sounding, unimaginative and bland. But still...they had the money to build this lovely set but NOT hire a sound designer? They sure could have used one, as the transitions from one scene and time to another felt clunky, awkward and choiceless (a word I feel applies to most of this production): none of the music told us anything about the tone of the show--the tracks were merely placeholders.
I have to say that I am actually quite astonished that this mess was directed by LA favorite Elina DeSantos, whose work I have admired for some time. Perhaps this was the best she could get out of this often amateurish cast. Perhaps she was a gun-for-hire who was paid by the producer/star to take the cast sight-unseen and make them look good. Despite her typically simple, clear staging, even Ms. DeSantos couldn't work that Herculean task.
Bottom line: D+
Till next time!
--HDSQ, Jr.
Friday, May 2, 2008
"The Smartest Man in the World!" from West Coast Jewish Theatre at the Pico Playhouse
When I was a child I really enjoyed musicals. My folks had old cast albums and they would take me to shows, which clearly began an early interest in the stage. My interest in musicals continued well into adulthood, but then at some point it was like a switch got flipped and I stopped wanting to go see them. For a long time I couldn't figure out why. Then one day it hit me: almost nobody seemed capable anymore of making a musical that didn't suck. "The Smartest Man in the World!" is a perfect example of why I soured on musical theatre. That and the over-use of exclamation points in musicals' titles.
The show, in brief, is a look at the (mostly later) life of famed physicist and icon Albert Einstein. So many possibilities. And yet, the mostly superior cast giving their blessed all simply could not make up for the tacky, shallow, silly, one-dimensional book by Russ Alben and John Sparks. Likewise, their excellent voices could not brighten the childish, repetitive, predictable music by Jerry Hart and AWFUL, clunky, trite lyrics by Alben (not aided in the least by the flat arrangements by Gerald Sternbach). Suffice it to say (and just for starters), in this musical world repeating a phrase (lyrical or musical) over and over is what's to pass as clever.
The story, such as it is, is told mostly through the convention of interviews with one reporter from the Jewish Daily Forward as a through-line, plus Einstein's own reminiscences of his life (read: "mostly loves"). You would hope that in putting on a piece of theatre about such an important and famous person--indeed, a giant--would strive to tell us something we didn't know about him: his hidden needs, his dark side, his life goals. Instead what we get is a collection of trivia and a lot about how he liked the ladies. And he didn't like war. Nothing else of any weight. Nothing about his process. Nothing about his actual theories or why they were so important (Can't be done? Go read or see "Copenhagen" or "Insignificance").
Now, maybe some clever direction would help this dog. But no. Herb Isaacs' staging is woefully obvious and flat, and worse: seemingly devoid of helping the actors shape characters. The always excellent Alan Safier puts on a great show as Einstein (German-speaker-taught-English-from-a-Brit accent and all!), but there are times--leg flung over the arm of the chair in which he's sitting--you can't help but wonder if the direction he got from Isaacs was "be eccentric". There are other actors on the stage--clearly competent ones-- who seems to be floundering, DESPERATE to make a character choice, having been given nothing but blocking and a costume. Every scene is played at about the same 60%. Nothing is more important than anything else until the bomb is dropped on Hiroshima, and then there's 2 minutes of emoting.
And there were moronic inconsistencies. My favorite: Einstein and his assistant came to the US together. They took their citizenship test together, we are told in the show. Yet Einstein has an accent and she doesn't...until she starts to imitate him. Ugh.
Which leads us to the choreography. Anyone see "Waiting for Guffman"? Picture that. To the point where I actually needed to stifle my giggling. It makes you wonder if the director actually changed the choreography to something he understood. I've seen it happen before.
I just wanted to hug all the performers and say "God, I am SO sorry your talents are being wasted on this." Tragically, I think their performances are the cause of the good press this stinker has gotten, as most critics are not educated enough to be able to look past the big smiles and keen voices to see what's underneath: nothing.
I know musicals are hard to create. Any good theatre experience is. But there was a moment, between "Avenue Q" and "13" where I had real hope for original musicals again (as opposed to this onslaught of based-on-the-movie or collection-of-pop-hits shows we face now). Once again my hopes have been dashed. The producer was standing in the lobby, grinning and looking for complements. I wanted to slug him and demand my time back.
Bottom line: B+ for effort, F for material.
Til next time!
--HDSQ, Jr.
The show, in brief, is a look at the (mostly later) life of famed physicist and icon Albert Einstein. So many possibilities. And yet, the mostly superior cast giving their blessed all simply could not make up for the tacky, shallow, silly, one-dimensional book by Russ Alben and John Sparks. Likewise, their excellent voices could not brighten the childish, repetitive, predictable music by Jerry Hart and AWFUL, clunky, trite lyrics by Alben (not aided in the least by the flat arrangements by Gerald Sternbach). Suffice it to say (and just for starters), in this musical world repeating a phrase (lyrical or musical) over and over is what's to pass as clever.
The story, such as it is, is told mostly through the convention of interviews with one reporter from the Jewish Daily Forward as a through-line, plus Einstein's own reminiscences of his life (read: "mostly loves"). You would hope that in putting on a piece of theatre about such an important and famous person--indeed, a giant--would strive to tell us something we didn't know about him: his hidden needs, his dark side, his life goals. Instead what we get is a collection of trivia and a lot about how he liked the ladies. And he didn't like war. Nothing else of any weight. Nothing about his process. Nothing about his actual theories or why they were so important (Can't be done? Go read or see "Copenhagen" or "Insignificance").
Now, maybe some clever direction would help this dog. But no. Herb Isaacs' staging is woefully obvious and flat, and worse: seemingly devoid of helping the actors shape characters. The always excellent Alan Safier puts on a great show as Einstein (German-speaker-taught-English-from-a-Brit accent and all!), but there are times--leg flung over the arm of the chair in which he's sitting--you can't help but wonder if the direction he got from Isaacs was "be eccentric". There are other actors on the stage--clearly competent ones-- who seems to be floundering, DESPERATE to make a character choice, having been given nothing but blocking and a costume. Every scene is played at about the same 60%. Nothing is more important than anything else until the bomb is dropped on Hiroshima, and then there's 2 minutes of emoting.
And there were moronic inconsistencies. My favorite: Einstein and his assistant came to the US together. They took their citizenship test together, we are told in the show. Yet Einstein has an accent and she doesn't...until she starts to imitate him. Ugh.
Which leads us to the choreography. Anyone see "Waiting for Guffman"? Picture that. To the point where I actually needed to stifle my giggling. It makes you wonder if the director actually changed the choreography to something he understood. I've seen it happen before.
I just wanted to hug all the performers and say "God, I am SO sorry your talents are being wasted on this." Tragically, I think their performances are the cause of the good press this stinker has gotten, as most critics are not educated enough to be able to look past the big smiles and keen voices to see what's underneath: nothing.
I know musicals are hard to create. Any good theatre experience is. But there was a moment, between "Avenue Q" and "13" where I had real hope for original musicals again (as opposed to this onslaught of based-on-the-movie or collection-of-pop-hits shows we face now). Once again my hopes have been dashed. The producer was standing in the lobby, grinning and looking for complements. I wanted to slug him and demand my time back.
Bottom line: B+ for effort, F for material.
Til next time!
--HDSQ, Jr.
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