This was a pretty theatre-packed weekend for me. Happy Now? was closing at the Yale Rep, a friend of mine was playing the title role in a untranslated production of Racine's Britannicus, and all Yale was abuzz about the musical being staged by the Dramat, which featured naked boys singing (but not Naked Boys Singing!).
I'd already seen The Full Monty on Broadway, and my opinion of the show was pretty much unchanged by the Dramat's production. The songs are instantly forgettable, and the plot does not progress except by sudden starts and improbably out of character shifts. Certainly, on the basis of the written script, it was the least thought-provoking of the three shows I saw.
But the last time I saw The Full Monty, it wasn't during a recession.
The six leading men (and particularly Miles Jacoby as protagonist Jerry Lukowski and Matthew McCollum as his best friend) managed to bring real, wrenching emotional depth to the cardboard cutouts of characters they were handed by the script. Jacoby was most affecting before the stripping plot really gets moving, when he and his fellow laid-off steelworkers feel trapped by their sudden misfortune.
Jacoby and the other men don't just miss their paychecks after the layoffs. Losing their jobs means losing part of their identity and part of their purpose. Their despair and desperation are palpable. The show shifts tone when Jacoby's character decides that he and his friends can regain their dignity by becoming strippers, but by the time my eyes had recovered from the strategic backlighting in the final scene, I kept thinking about the downtrodden men from the first act.
Secluded at college, my experience with the economic meltdown has mostly been limited to following policy arguments among the blognoroti. I really hadn't thought about how the effects of these decisions were being felt across the country until I saw those brilliant boys playing men leading lives of quiet desperation. And after having watched Jacoby stand alone on the stage, pinned down by a spotlight and keening in shame and grief, I only wish that kitschy, underwritten songs could solve their problems.
Showing posts with label Musical Theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Musical Theatre. Show all posts
Monday, November 17, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Weekend Arts: Keeping it in the Family
This post is of particular interest to Yale Mafiosos (though all theatre afficianados are encouraged to read on).
This week, I have had the pleasure of seeing two shows written and performed by Yalies at the NYC Fringe Festival. I had seen Usher in several incarnations at Yale, and it has gotten better every time. Usher is a musical adaptation of Edgar Allen Poe's "The Fall of the House of Usher" by Molly Fox and Sarah Hirsh.
In the musical, James (Casey Breves) is invited to the estate of his university friend, Roderick Usher (Ben Wexler) to paint Roderick's final portrait. During his time in the Usher home, James discovers that Roderick is spinning a web of lies to keep James from seeing his childhood love (and Roderick sister) Madeline (Claudia Rosenthal). These events are overseen by the malevolent portraits that haunt the Usher home.
The show is brilliantly executed. As at Yale, Casey and the rest of the cast do a brilliant job bringing life to cleverly-sketched characters and well-painted portraits. Casey's angelic tenor produces notes so beautiful that I was on the edge of my seat, hardly daring to breathe for many of his songs, and he is well matched by Claudia's haunting soprano. Fox and Hirsch give all their actors great material to work with. (Pariticularly good turns from Aaron Lee Lambert and Danielle Ryan as the Ushers servants in the song "Water and Gruel" and, in the chorus, Emily Jenda shines (without pulling focus) every moment she is onstage).
But perhaps the best recommendation for the show comes from the man on the LIRR platform this morning who complemented my singing (I couldn't get Usher out of my head). Since the only person I usually get singing complements from is my tone-deaf father, I have to assume he was moved by the songwriting prowess of Fox and Hirsh.
Usher has 4 performances left:
Sun 17 @ 4:15
Tue 19 @ 4:30
Wed 20 @ 7
Fri 22 @ 10
In addition, audio and video clips are available at the Usher website at http://www.usherthemusical.com/
The other Yale show at the Fringe is @lice in www.onderland, a dance/multimedia show based on the Lewis Carroll story. It is very difficult to translate a story so dependent on textual jokes to an essentially silent medium, but the production includes some charming moments. The two dancers who embody the Caterpillar is particularly inspired. For now though, my favorite Alice remix is still Alice in Quantumland.
@lice in www.onderland has 3 performances left:
Mon 18 @ 7:15
Tue 19 @ 5:15
Fri 22 @ 9:45
This week, I have had the pleasure of seeing two shows written and performed by Yalies at the NYC Fringe Festival. I had seen Usher in several incarnations at Yale, and it has gotten better every time. Usher is a musical adaptation of Edgar Allen Poe's "The Fall of the House of Usher" by Molly Fox and Sarah Hirsh.
In the musical, James (Casey Breves) is invited to the estate of his university friend, Roderick Usher (Ben Wexler) to paint Roderick's final portrait. During his time in the Usher home, James discovers that Roderick is spinning a web of lies to keep James from seeing his childhood love (and Roderick sister) Madeline (Claudia Rosenthal). These events are overseen by the malevolent portraits that haunt the Usher home.
The show is brilliantly executed. As at Yale, Casey and the rest of the cast do a brilliant job bringing life to cleverly-sketched characters and well-painted portraits. Casey's angelic tenor produces notes so beautiful that I was on the edge of my seat, hardly daring to breathe for many of his songs, and he is well matched by Claudia's haunting soprano. Fox and Hirsch give all their actors great material to work with. (Pariticularly good turns from Aaron Lee Lambert and Danielle Ryan as the Ushers servants in the song "Water and Gruel" and, in the chorus, Emily Jenda shines (without pulling focus) every moment she is onstage).
But perhaps the best recommendation for the show comes from the man on the LIRR platform this morning who complemented my singing (I couldn't get Usher out of my head). Since the only person I usually get singing complements from is my tone-deaf father, I have to assume he was moved by the songwriting prowess of Fox and Hirsh.
Usher has 4 performances left:
Sun 17 @ 4:15
Tue 19 @ 4:30
Wed 20 @ 7
Fri 22 @ 10
In addition, audio and video clips are available at the Usher website at http://www.usherthemusical.com/
The other Yale show at the Fringe is @lice in www.onderland, a dance/multimedia show based on the Lewis Carroll story. It is very difficult to translate a story so dependent on textual jokes to an essentially silent medium, but the production includes some charming moments. The two dancers who embody the Caterpillar is particularly inspired. For now though, my favorite Alice remix is still Alice in Quantumland.
@lice in www.onderland has 3 performances left:
Mon 18 @ 7:15
Tue 19 @ 5:15
Fri 22 @ 9:45
Monday, July 28, 2008
The Bad Reason I Didn't Like Hair
I know I ragged on The Public's staging of Hair, but credit where credit's due; there was one really good moment in the production...
"Hair" rang out over the speaker system. The cast danced like dervishes through the audience and soon, half the audience (including me) had joined them on stage. The mood was electric, members of the audience dances with the cast and with each other as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and, at the end of it all, Jonathan Groff autographed my Metrocard. So what was the problem? The dance number came after the curtain call.
The actors were talented and appeared passionate, but, until that last number, I couldn't really believe it. The lack of plot or character development for most of the characters meant that all of the mood swings (mostly back and forth between bliss and comatose) were chemically fuelled and difficult for the mostly sober audience to share.
But the show wouldn't have been fixed by simply pulling the audience on stage earlier. Interactivity is great, but not in the form of blind enthusiasm. Ultimately, Hair suffered from comparison with my friend and classmate, Rafael Kern's production this year of The Bacchae.
Rafa incorporated audience participation from the opening of the show, when the cast threw open the doors of the theatre and pulled the audience in for dances and revels. He and the cast kept the energy high, so I spent the nearly the entire show in a state of Dionysian exhilaration. Which made the crash so much more wrenching.
Before the physical dismemberment of Pentheus, the cast circled on him and tore apart his concept of self. (Hard to describe on paper, frightening in person). They turned on him with now-playful-now-earnest cruelty, and the worst part was, if they had transitioned to this abuse straight from the dancing, it was hard to imagine that the audience wouldn't have joined in the taunting or that we might have gone so far as to strike Elliot (the actor playing Pentheus).
Rafa's production had the biggest impact on me of all the shows I saw this year because he transported you into the world of the play, and then, once he sucked you in, he made you complicit.
Hair failed for me because, even at its most engrossing, it was without consequence. The main characted, Claude, is lost to the drugged-out collective, but solely due to the outside influence of the US Army. Nothing suggests that the culture presented is not self-sustaining. If I wanted a happy-go-lucky musical with confusing shifts in mood I'd rewatch Mamma Mia!
Sorry, Public Theatre. No guilt. No good review.
"Hair" rang out over the speaker system. The cast danced like dervishes through the audience and soon, half the audience (including me) had joined them on stage. The mood was electric, members of the audience dances with the cast and with each other as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and, at the end of it all, Jonathan Groff autographed my Metrocard. So what was the problem? The dance number came after the curtain call.
The actors were talented and appeared passionate, but, until that last number, I couldn't really believe it. The lack of plot or character development for most of the characters meant that all of the mood swings (mostly back and forth between bliss and comatose) were chemically fuelled and difficult for the mostly sober audience to share.
But the show wouldn't have been fixed by simply pulling the audience on stage earlier. Interactivity is great, but not in the form of blind enthusiasm. Ultimately, Hair suffered from comparison with my friend and classmate, Rafael Kern's production this year of The Bacchae.
Rafa incorporated audience participation from the opening of the show, when the cast threw open the doors of the theatre and pulled the audience in for dances and revels. He and the cast kept the energy high, so I spent the nearly the entire show in a state of Dionysian exhilaration. Which made the crash so much more wrenching.
Before the physical dismemberment of Pentheus, the cast circled on him and tore apart his concept of self. (Hard to describe on paper, frightening in person). They turned on him with now-playful-now-earnest cruelty, and the worst part was, if they had transitioned to this abuse straight from the dancing, it was hard to imagine that the audience wouldn't have joined in the taunting or that we might have gone so far as to strike Elliot (the actor playing Pentheus).
Rafa's production had the biggest impact on me of all the shows I saw this year because he transported you into the world of the play, and then, once he sucked you in, he made you complicit.
Hair failed for me because, even at its most engrossing, it was without consequence. The main characted, Claude, is lost to the drugged-out collective, but solely due to the outside influence of the US Army. Nothing suggests that the culture presented is not self-sustaining. If I wanted a happy-go-lucky musical with confusing shifts in mood I'd rewatch Mamma Mia!
Sorry, Public Theatre. No guilt. No good review.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
The Good Reason I Didn't Like Hair
The Public Theatre (home of Shakespeare in the Park) opened its second show, Hair, for previews on Tuesday night. My family and I went together, and, I'm sad to say, I didn't enjoy it that much.
Although the show opened with remarks about Hair's relevance to today, the musical really felt dated and kitchy. When it premiered in 1968, many of the songs and sight gags were incredibly controversial, but now they fall flat, which is, in many cases, a good thing. I thought the "Black Boys/White Boys" song was a complete waste of time with lousy lyrics, sample:
but my perspective changed when I was reading about the show and found out that, since the show premiered so soon after the push to repeal anti-miscegenation laws, this song (sung by white girls) was shocking and offensive. A number of similar gags playing on racism, homophobism, and whatever the term is for people who are anti-nudist are obsolete.
It's a cultural victory that takes the fun out of seeing the show, except as an historical/anthropological document. It might have been better, but I'll save my other objections for my next post: "The Bad Reason I Didn't Like Hair.
N.B. Anyone near NYC who wants to see the show, it runs through the end of August and is totally free. To get tickets, you wait on line in the morning in Central Park. For veterans of the line, best show up early (8-9 am at the latest). My family got the very last tickets showing up at 11:30am for the first show of previews of a dated show that, apart from Jonathan Groff, had no stars. Enjoy.
Although the show opened with remarks about Hair's relevance to today, the musical really felt dated and kitchy. When it premiered in 1968, many of the songs and sight gags were incredibly controversial, but now they fall flat, which is, in many cases, a good thing. I thought the "Black Boys/White Boys" song was a complete waste of time with lousy lyrics, sample:
Black boys are delicious
Chocolate flavored love
Licorice lips like candy
Keep my cocoa handy
I have such a sweet tooth
When it comes to love
but my perspective changed when I was reading about the show and found out that, since the show premiered so soon after the push to repeal anti-miscegenation laws, this song (sung by white girls) was shocking and offensive. A number of similar gags playing on racism, homophobism, and whatever the term is for people who are anti-nudist are obsolete.
It's a cultural victory that takes the fun out of seeing the show, except as an historical/anthropological document. It might have been better, but I'll save my other objections for my next post: "The Bad Reason I Didn't Like Hair.
N.B. Anyone near NYC who wants to see the show, it runs through the end of August and is totally free. To get tickets, you wait on line in the morning in Central Park. For veterans of the line, best show up early (8-9 am at the latest). My family got the very last tickets showing up at 11:30am for the first show of previews of a dated show that, apart from Jonathan Groff, had no stars. Enjoy.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Singing Supervillian Scientist (I love Joss Whedon!)
Blogging on fashion and femininity, tomorrow; shameless plug, right now.
Two webisodes of three are up now, and it all goes dark (except for iTunes) Sunday night. How can you miss a musical where Neil Patrick Harris's love song has these lyrics "With my freeze ray I will stop/the world/With my freeze ray I will/Find the time to/Find the words to..."
Enjoy!
Two webisodes of three are up now, and it all goes dark (except for iTunes) Sunday night. How can you miss a musical where Neil Patrick Harris's love song has these lyrics "With my freeze ray I will stop/the world/With my freeze ray I will/Find the time to/Find the words to..."
Enjoy!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
