Review: The Black Bird Returnsby Eric Miles Glover

In writing The Black Bird Returns, Barbara Panas and Alexis Kozak have written the perfect foundation for a resonant drama. Through their writing, Panas and Kozak have captured the subtleties of human romantic relationships, including the quarrels that leave lovers second-guessing romantic feelings and the tit-for-tats that leave lovers pondering the whereabouts of that “one pure love.”

In college, Kat and Cliff tested the waters of romance with adventurism. When the time came to commit to the relationship, however, Cliff skirted the decision and settled with another woman. Now, after considerable time has passed, Cliff longs to reawaken the relationship, though Kat and he are involved with other people. While Kat has emotional ties to Cliff, she is not certain that reawakening—reliving?—romance past is viable and smart. Is there one pure love to experience, or is love a decision? The Black Bird Returns asks. A concrete answer is not provided, but an attention-grabbing examination of two people and their taxing relationships—with current significant others and with each other—is dramatized.

Having breathed substance into original characters, Panas and Kozak have afforded their creations genuine voices and genuine eccentricities. Kat and Cliff, though fictional, communicate on an emotional, human, and tangible level, letting the viewer infiltrate their complex but absorbing world of Want, Need, and Desire with eagerness and ease. The Black Bird Returns has one shortcoming, however, and this is the hurried nature of the drama. Having written interesting characters and presented them with a shocking problem, it would have been constructive to see the struggles and doubts that Kat and Cliff face expanded further. In 75 minutes, Panas and Kozak touch the surface of the complex relationship that Kat and Cliff share(d). The Black Bird Returns, in its current state, does not probe what lies beneath that surface in a fulfilling manner.

In the role of Kat, Panas captures the expressive range of a woman whose emotions contradict and conflict. David Walters is excellent as Cliff. He infuses his performance with weakness and charisma that, without absolving him for past errors, humanize Cliff and earn him compassion from the viewer. A talented actor, Walters reveals the emotional depth of his character and heightens the desperate measures his character—as well as a real person—takes to regain affection from his one pure love.

Review: The End of Reality by Jonathan Cristaldi

Richard Maxwell's latest spectacle is so properly composed in its simplicity that the banal tonality of discourse in "The End of Reality" takes a back seat to the development of what is a wholly flawed "reality." This is not to say that Maxwell's penchant for exploring the mundane qualities of tone becomes irreverent, rather, it is done so well that the absurdity of it only compliments the narrative and never distracts from story.

Set in a "'lobby-citadel'…where guards attempt to secure a vulnerable area against unidentified intruders," the situation is hardly questionable, as the presence of uniformed individuals at checkpoints has become something most people are accustomed to nowadays. At least it's second nature in New York City – just last week heading into the subway I was asked to display the contents of my bag. (Perhaps there was something sinister in the Windsor of my knotted tie). And the exchange was routine: I said, "Sure," he said, "Got some books?" I said, "Yup," and he said, "Thanks." This kind of reality we are learning to deal with – under a constant watchful eye – is in Maxwell's world not ending, as the title might suggest, but beginning.

Conflict comes to the playing space in the form of an intruder who attacks the guards. There is hardly any revealing dialogue that would lend some insight as to why this intruder attacks. Maxwell's characters (1,2,3,4, and 5) suffer from nostalgia for the past and an inability to deal with the immediate present. The metaphysical buffer between what was, and what is now, is disrupted by this intruder who essentially tips the scales at their tipping points. Fights break out in overtly aware choreography, which comically parodies what one might expect from yet another Tarantino film – blood included.

Maxwell artfully presents a breakdown of language, character, and even emotional attachments to love and principles. Where the play lacks in the kind of anticipatory plot structure plays typically beg for, it opens up a barrage of potential questions and leaves in even more room for answers. “The End of Reality” is not a show you should miss.

Final performances:
January 26 – 29, 8pm.
The Kitchen
512 West 19th Street
212.255.5793

www.thekitchen.org

Review: Richard Maxwell’s "The End of Reality" by Georgia Kirtland

Richard Maxwell, irreverent theater deconstructionist extraordinaire, focuses his satirical eye on the banality of violence and the true nature of security in "The End of Reality", his latest work at the Kitchen.

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To have such a clearly recognized style is an homage to the ground-breaking and paradoxical methods of most unconventional playwright Richard Maxwell, to whom all things distinctly “anti-theater” are attributed. Fluorescent lights, lethargic delivery, the most mundane of dialogue, sometimes no more than half hearted non-sequiturs…and yet all the trappings of the quintessential bad play have become essential devices in some of the most eloquent and understated staged works in recent history. In past productions like "House" (1998), "Showy Lady Slipper" (1999), "Good Samaritans" (2004), and even a staging of Shakespeare’s "Henry IV" (at BAM, 2003), Maxwell provides a blank canvas, with paper doll actors for his audience to project upon - allowing the subjectivity of one’s viewing to color in that third dimension. If you happen to get the heartstrings tugged or the funny bone tickled, that’s your doing, not his. The playwright merely presents cross sections of the most ordinary aspects of our culture, employing his methods of deconstruction to turn the familiar, and even unnoticed, into new, uncanny territory.

His newest work keeps the signature style in full effect: in "The End of Reality", guards- indicated by numbers as opposed to names - secure a building against intruders. What the nature of that being guarded is, or the intent of those that intrude, is never really determined, but that’s besides the point; what matters more are the lackluster and elliptical conversations that while the time at the guard station. "1" (Thomas Bradshaw) extols upon the importance of rules and procedure, quotes the Bible often, and bemoans the erosion of the neighborhood. He wants to be in a movie – even a small part – so he’ll live forever. His goddaughter, "5" (Marcia Hidalgo), a temporary security fill-in, and eventually the emotional epicenter of the piece – if such bold terminology could be applied - deadpans on family, God, and the horoscopes. "2" (Brian Mendes), with a clipped tone and appropriately understated swagger, speaks of his headshots, his sneaker collection, his new initiation into love. Security camera images flicker in and out in the background; static images of people appear in the frame, only to disappear in segments. The guards’ inane ramblings appear to be just as flat and dispensable, but somehow stumble onto unanticipated lucidity, as is the usual M.O. of a Maxwell production.

However, what separates "The End of Reality" from its predecessors is that the ramblings, besides satirizing, attempt to harness the mystical that surrounds the mundane, using language’s own inefficiency to make some sort of definitions out of “Faith” and “Fear”. These two rather unclear concepts have emerged as rather culturally pertinent in recent times, where we – maybe as a nation, maybe as believers - have come to question what it is we “secure” ourselves against. In the ambiguity of Maxwell’s presentation, this could be the most damning, and the most insightful, depiction of the current state of national affairs…that is, if we choose to construe it that way.

Detractors and Devil’s Advocates have questioned how long Maxwell can employ the same staging concepts before they tire; with "The End of Reality", the tradition pushes past tongue-in-cheek American satire and explores the impetus behind it - what justifies this daily ordinariness, what keeps us going. The idea of fate being in control re-emerges continuously throughout the piece, which is magnified by the non-committal manner of speaking - in the face of the unstoppable inertia of love, violence, time, change…all we can really do is talk at each other about it.

And then there are the fight scenes. The guards engage in full combat with those that intrude, and blood even makes an appearance…but contenders quietly and clumsily kick, jump, roll and slap; the cinematic, grandiose fantasies of violence are mimicked in marital arts poses, as well as the cocky machismo of Mendes, sputtering tough guy lines upon a victorious match…but in the end, fighting is not nearly so exciting as the movies. Violence enters, it exits, and even with blood-splattered faces, the guards don’t really raise an eyebrow about it. It has become as routine in daily affairs as talking.

"I don't care if it happens to everyone, it's new to me,” laments a lovelorn Mendes, in surprisingly uncharacteristic passion, another element that separates this production from Maxwell’s former works - at some points, voices are raised, and even some set pieces are upended. However, even for these flashes of real emoting, like the Shakespearean "sound and the fury", it signifies nothing in the end. Mendes’ assertion could give the best summation of Richard Maxwell’s universe: we only recognize our own fears and thoughts, coloring only our own lives with a third dimension... and without any real connections forged between us, there are only collisions.

The End of Reality
@ The Kitchen
512 W. 19th Street (btw. 10th and 11th Ave.)
Runs until January 29th.
www.thekitchen.org

Bridge & Tunnel, by Matt Windman

Although she performs only by herself, Sarah Jones creates a shining sense of community in her new Broadway show that is sorely lacking in many other multi-character plays.

A poet, playwright and leading advocate of hip hop theater, 32-year-old Sarah Jones had the Off-Broadway hit of 2003 when “Bridge & Tunnel” played the Culture Project in a production produced by Meryl Streep.

Now at the Helen Hayes Theatre for a two-month engagement, the play seems less at home in midtown than it did in the East Village. However, it does provide the opportunity for a more mainstream audience to discover Ms. Jones’ work.

In her 90-minute show, she portrays about a dozen immigrants participating in a poetry slam in Queens such as an elderly Jewish woman, a young Vietnamese man, and a young Jamaican woman. After each monologue, she finds a new jacket and jumps into a new personality.

Whereas the majority of one-person shows recreate famous figures like Mark Twain or Golda Meir, Sarah Jones sets out to understand and connect with those around her. It is this shared, powerful feeling of spirituality that makes “Bridge & Tunnel” a must-see play for anyone who cares about new theater or contemporary society.

Helen Hayes Theatre, 240 W. 44th Street, 212-239-6200, $26.25-86.25. Tues 7pm, Wed-Fri 8pm, Sat 2 & 8pm, Sun 3 & 7pm. Through March 12.

"Safety," by Aaron Riccio

Being a passive observer may be an inherently silly thing, as some of Safety’s characters posit, but I’d gladly sit back and watch such fine stagecraft any day of the week. And no, that’s not just laziness speaking: this is a damn good piece of theater, thought-provoking, entertaining, and—dare I say it—picture perfect.

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Isn’t it funny how guns and cameras both shoot people? Well, no, not really; but it can be a stark and darkly comedic nuance to quibble about. And British playwright Chris Thorpe is really good at it: he’s got a keen ability to go straight to the heart by completely circumventing it. In his brilliant play Safety (part of a trilogy, though it more than stands alone), loose, fragmented, emotionally-wrought chunks of text carry more bite in one little mouthful than any slack-jawed proselytizing. Rather than speak to the ineffable “horrors of war,” Thorpe makes an awkward dinner party into “enemy lines” and treats words as bullets. And while that’s been done before, these characters have not: a war photographer, haunted by his 1/125th of a second stills; his wife, haunted by the realization she neither loves nor knows her husband anymore; and a blissfully ignorant stranger, who just happened to save their daughter from drowning.

And with words as bullets, wordplay is the armor. It’s meager defense for such roiling emotion, but it makes for invigoratingly terse theater. One scene begins with Michael making a mundane comment to Susan, his wife: “You forget, you know.” What follows is a subtle rant on the vagueness of language (ironic, because it only shows how absolutely precise language can be), each point ramming home another of Michael’s faults. Words might allow characters to hide, but not for long, and they certainly cannot cover the discomfort of the speakers.

Given all that sub-text, Safety is a very intelligent play, extremely well-written, to the point where every syllable’s elocution is precise, and both the director (Daisy Walker) and cast (especially David Wilson Barnes and Jeffrey Clarke) deserve credit for managing to execute the enunciation with such vicious charm. “Was that observation or imperative,” asks Susan of Michael’s sparse comment. “It’s just that there are a number of ways to interpret the statement you just made, Michael, and I’d hate to disappoint you by choosing the wrong way.” Lines like these often have a tendency to come across as inhuman or callous—they produce the knee-jerk reaction: “Real people don’t talk like this!”—but I assure you, in these hands (i.e. larynxes), it’s wholly believable.

So too, the progression of scenes: Thorpe shuffles like an magician between the dinner party, an interview turned affair, some out-of-place expository monologues billed as “Michael’s World,” and Michael’s vivid memories of a bombed-out house, somewhere in the Balkans, 1994. It’s seamless, alleviated by a wonderfully chilling original techno score and an eerie sterile white set, whose single wall creeps closer and closer in, giving the verbal metaphor of being “boxed in” a physical parallel. Even better, every scene starts and ends in the middle of something, which speeds the show—already a fleet-footed affair—on.

Being a passive observer may be an inherently silly thing, as some of Safety’s characters posit, but I’d gladly sit back and watch such fine stagecraft any day of the week. And no, that’s not just laziness speaking: this is a damn good piece of theater, thought-provoking, entertaining, and—dare I say it—picture perfect.

Urban Stages, 259 West 30th Street
Tickets (212-868-4444): $15
Performances (until 2/12): Thursday-Saturday @ 8:00; Sunday @ 7:00

Review: “TRACES/fades” By Jonathan Cristaldi

Lenora Champagne’s latest piece, “TRACES/fades” was presented as a work-in-progress at Here’s Culturemart 2006 over two nights this past week.

Situated in a space that evokes an assisted living center, TRACES/fades is a meditation on Alzheimer’s disease and our national inability to remember history. The characters are “stuck” somewhere between the way things were and the way things are. The text is at times natural with deliberate poignancy intended to arouse nostalgia for a physical past that is being erased by technology: hand-writing letters, crocheting, etc. Other times, characters talk directly at the audience as if each in their own time has a great narration to impart, constantly fading however, never materializing.

Champagne is known for employing the unexpected in her work, and this piece is no exception. Though not billed as a musical, there is singing with original compositions by Daniel Levy. Very funny and satirical in the spontaneity of the songs, the lyrics however, are affective, politically charged, and hard to swallow: “I had a son in the war/which war?/ big war/the Arabs didn’t kill him/friendly fire did.”

Televisions on the right and left side of the stage project static images, eerie in composition, of a hand scribbling in elegant script, vast landscapes of ice and water, old houses – metaphors for memories, or traces of memories, disconnected and weathered by time.

The latest development of TRACES/fades is very successful in evoking resonant feelings of unrest for the ongoing war in Iraq, the hypocrisy with which our government conducts itself, and the degradation of the mind and what is expected from the minds of today. Champagne will continue to develop this work as a HARP (HERE Artist’s Residency Program) artist at Here Arts Center.

For more information go to: www.lenorachampagne.com or www.here.org.

"In the Continuum," By Matt Windman

How did an acting project created by two NYU students suddenly turn into an Off-Broadway hit that will soon be seen in both national and international tours?

“In the Continuum,” which Nikkole Salter and Danai Gurira have written and also perform in, dramatizes the HIV/AIDS epidemic through the first-hand experiences of an African woman in Zimbabwe and an African-American teenager in Los Angeles.

The setup is seemingly simple, as each actress alternates turns delivering monologues. There are few, if any, props or scenic devices. One may even fear that this will turn out to be a night of whiny, expository theater, as recently seen in “’RFK” and “Latinologues.”

But the humanity, honesty, and tragedy of both women’s lives are emboldened in what turns out to be a stylized experience that explores society’s demands, personal rituals and human spirituality.

Each character, in fact, has been given a full dramatic trajectory marked by inner and outer conflicts and well-constructed arcs. We, in turn, are compelled to analyze their actions intellectually but understand their decisions emotionally.

As such, what seems to be an unpretentious, down-to-earth drama is offering two great performances and one compelling work of dramatic literature.

Through Feb 18. Perry Street Theatre, 31 Perry Street. 212-868-4444. $20-60. Mon-Fri 8pm, Sat 3 & 8pm.

Review: The Color Purpleby Eric Miles Glover

“In terms of narrative structure, The Color Purple, on the whole, is imperfect. As a universal tale of oppression and survival, however, the musical does not disappoint, and this is what is bizarre. The Color Purple is spellbinding. That no person leaves the theater without having felt its magic is evidence in need of consideration. In the end, do negative notices matter? Do imperfections matter? Hell no. The Color Purple guarantees an action-packed and entertaining time.”

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If one reads criticism about The Color Purple, the judgments overflow with comparisons to the Alice Walker novel and the Stephen Spielberg film. While the comparisons are the natural place to start discussion, the viewer should not expect carbon copies of the novel and the film in the theater. Likening the musical to the sources upon which it is based is almost criminal. Film, literature, and theater are distinct entities. When the viewer approaches the musical, he needs to assess its merits as an original work. A discussion about whether the musical captures the heart of the novel is warranted, but the viewer should not expect to see a duplicate of the novel in the theater. How the musical jolts, jerks, and jars needs examination from a theatrical context.

The Color Purple is the tale of an embattled Black woman, Celie, who uses her harrowing life experience as incentive for self-empowerment. After bearing two children, the results of rapes at the hands of the man she believes is her father, she is sold to Mister, a local farmer, who barrages her with corporal, sexual, and verbal abuse. When his mistress, Shug, arrives in their Georgia parish, the maltreatment continues but is ended when both women, realizing the parallels between their conditions, form an emotional and lesbian bond. Through Celie, Shug learns self-worth, and through Shug, Celie learns strength in the veneer of sexual, mental, and financial emancipation from men. A new musical, The Color Purple—about the low position of Black women during the 1900s due to their sex and color—is flawed.

The book rushes action and narrative structure, forgetting to expound meaning. In Act II, for example, Shug tells Celie that it angers God when a person walks past the color purple in a field without stopping to admire it. She launches into the beautiful title song, which, full of metaphors about the color, fails to explain and educate the viewer about its meaning and how that meaning relates to Celie. “Like a blade of corn, all a part of me,/Like the color purple, where do it come from?” Shug sings. What is the meaning of the color purple? Here, the book fails. The meaning of the color is never discussed, and that characters sing a song about its merits is off-putting. In fact, the color has several meanings. One, purple is one of the liturgical colors in Christian images, meaning sorrow and mourning. Two, purple means womanhood, lesbianism, and feminism. Three, purple means courage and classlessness. Without background knowledge of the several meanings of the color, however, including the three abovementioned meanings that are applicable to the themes and events of the musical, significance is lost.

“What about Love?” is the greatest number in the musical. Its words and music are beautiful. However, the composers do not afford the number and several others the proper time to grow and impact the viewer, because each number falls victim to the desire to keep the production in motion. The first six numbers are well-made, but the remaining ones threaten to lose the interest the first five cultivate. Numbers like “What about Love?” are musical interludes.

What is more, characters are superficial. While the viewer feels for them, is the emotional response proof of the success of the musical, or is the emotional response due to the longstanding connection the viewer has had with the characters in their novel and film forms? It is almost as if the musical operates from the belief that the viewer, having read the Walker novel and seen the Spielberg film, will summon past experiences with characters and plot when the musical is lacking. In other words, the musical relies on the viewer being familiar with its sources to alleviate the burden of dramatizing a 350-page novel in 150 minutes. If the musical took the time to enliven the characters and plot, however, rather than rushing, the musical would be perfect. If The Color Purple needs to last five hours for narrative to unfold and develop in an organic manner, this is what is needed. Theater, when right, is awesome.

Despite unmistakable imperfections, The Color Purple still enthralls. The Color Purple serenades and seduces with its lush score, a fusion of blues, gospel, and jazz. (The numbers “Big Dog,” “Hell No!,” “Push da Button,” and “The Color Purple” capture the full range of musical traditions used.) When it was announced three composers with combined talent in all music except musical theater were charged with making The Color Purple sing, concern was aired. However, the composers have accomplished an undertaking of epic proportions that is admirable for a first attempt. When emotion becomes too strong for speech in The Color Purple, characters sing in a musical language rooted in passion and feeling; and when emotion becomes too strong for song, the music the composers have written affords characters the occasion to dance in spirited fits of handsome movement.

Felicia P. Fields and Elisabeth Withers-Mendes are treasures. As Sofia, the Black feminist taboo, Fields gives an outstanding performance. With her booming voice and grounded stature, she demands respect from her male counterparts—her husband included—and wins undivided attention and affection from the viewer. In comparison, Brandon Victor Dixon is cute and infectious as her husband, Harpo, whom she dominates.

As Shug, the wild, sexual, and free-spirited blues singer, Withers-Mendes is phenomenal. From rude and brutish inebriate to mentor and lover of Celie, each step Withers-Mendes takes is passionate. During her stage time, she is filled with the exuberance and raw élan that is the exact reason unattached and married men fight, fawn, and drool in her presence. Her performance is nothing but heightened when she sings the numbers “Too Beautiful for Words” and “What about Love?” She has an awe-inspiring voice that, powerful and numbing, leaves the listener wanting when her vocalizing ends. A gifted singer, Withers-Mendes riffs with patience and care, unlike popular singers who flaunt superfluous ornamentation and assist the listener in forgetting what their songs—their messages—are about.

The ensemble is amazing. The Color Purple carries no dead weight. Whether the three actresses who provide comic relief or the eight dancers who amaze with their athleticism, the combined talent of the ensemble renders the viewer speechless.

In terms of narrative structure, The Color Purple, on the whole, is imperfect. As a universal tale of oppression and survival, however, the musical does not disappoint, and this is what is bizarre. The Color Purple is spellbinding. That no person leaves the theater without having felt its magic is evidence in need of consideration. In the end, do negative notices matter? Do imperfections matter? Hell no. The Color Purple guarantees an action-packed and entertaining time.

NEUROfest review: "Tabula Rasa" and "Cincinnati" by Jess Lacher

Neurological science and art come together for NEUROfest, presented by Untitled Theater Company #61 and running now through January 29. Reviewed below are two of the eight featured plays, readings and seminars will also be presented.

What do a nineteenth century feral boy, a contemporary young woman with autism, and Hansel and Gretel have in common? Nothing and everything, as evidenced in TABULA RASA, a new musical presented by High Fidelity Theater. As three blank chalkboards are filled over the course of the evening with scribbles and words, the play itself is in constant danger of being consumed by an avalanche of ideas, and the huge cast threatens to burst the seams of a small stage.

There are big ideas about civilization and wildness at play here, but the second act throws up its hands in frustration and devolves into a string of devices and gags which keep the story at arm’s length. The production has more than its share of problems, notably its stock characters and uneven vocals, but it has something to say about our insistence on putting people into comfortable boxes—it just takes a long, shaky time to get there.

Another lost child is at the heart of Don Nigro’s CINCINNATI, an arresting one-woman show performed (only once, unfortunately) by Nancy Walsh. A literature professor has lost her baby girl in a fire, and we are the college seminar to whom she delivers a wrenching one-hour lecture on her ensuing grief and madness. Walsh’s performance is spare and funny, even as it becomes painful to watch. Presented with a seminar on Walsh’s true-life encounter with neurological trauma: a brain tumor which nearly took her life shortly before her acclaimed performance of CINCINNATI in Edinburgh.

NEUROfest is a good place to go and think about your brain. For schedules and more information, go to www.untitledtheater.com.

Review: Fish Bowlby Eric Miles Glover

A singing hopeful. A pre-operative male-to-female transsexual. A greeting card writer. A chocolate-addicted southerner. A fitness-obsessed triathlete. What is the link between these people? Each is a contestant on the unscripted television program at the center of Fish Bowl.

Six people are chosen at random to compete for eleven million dollars. While waiting for the production team to give instruction, an unpredictable series of events unfolds when the six contestants stop being polite and start getting real.

Katie Apicella, Mike Borrelli, Simone Harrison, and Pamela Stewart are hilarious in their roles that exploit clichéd characters from unscripted television. Victor Verhaeghe is hilarious as pre-op transwoman Alberto Riverez but walks the fine line between performance and insult with serious risk. Rieko Yamanaka, Christine Poland, and Shevaun Hiler are skilled dancers, capturing the sharpness and silliness of the energetic movement Jennifer Rocha has created.

Jian Jung has designed an incredible setting that uses neon colors and college student furnishings to keep the viewer focused. The frame around the proscenium Jung has designed is clever and evokes the image of a television, allowing the viewer to watch the performance as if he were watching an actual television program. Jason Kichline has created cool video diaries that are used to optimum effect throughout the production, and Stephen Pitkin has composed music full of suspense and atmosphere.

I Ate What? Theater produces original work integrating multimedia and dance that exposes the ridiculous nature of American culture with resolve and humor. Fish Bowl, an attempt to realize that mission, is humorous but lacks substantial social comment. Writers Simona Berman and Andrew Thomas Pitkin have written an amusing reflection on the impact of unscripted television in American culture but their work is problematic, undermining the potential seriousness of their effort. Yes, Fish Bowl exposes the ridiculous nature of American culture, but it is not explicit in its attack and criticism. Characters are underdeveloped. Each represents one of the clichés seen time and again in unscripted television when it seems the point of a social and cultural exposé is to humanize as opposed to pigeonhole people, showing them and the viewer how exploitation factors into perception. What is more, events occur that are inorganic in terms of the dramatic structure. Scenes are unrelated and serve to foster laughter as opposed to foster serious discussion about a serious societal problem. Fish Bowl neither shows the devastating effects of the unscripted television in a believable fashion nor presents positive alternatives to the genre.

For all the viewer knows, however, Berman and Pitkin use Fish Bowl to show how the American public has become complicit in the endorsement of television programming like Wife Swap, Extreme Makeover, Average Joe, and American Idol. That the ridiculousness of Fish Bowl causes laughter on the part of the viewer shows how he has become disillusioned, and that is an achievement on its own.

Review: A Midsummer Night's Dreamby Eric Miles Glover

In the Vital Theater production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, director John Ficarra has probed the sexual and dark elements of the Shakespeare favorite in an overall engaging production.

An extraterrestrial-like Oberon and vampire-like Titania are King and Queen of the Fairies, and a beer-bellied rebel lacking social graces is Puck. Yes, the character interpretations are striking, but the viewer finds comfort in accepting the production for what it is—ridiculous—and witnessing the imaginative performances of several talented actors. Justification for probing the sexual and dark elements of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is not offered, but the probing has forced the actors to develop original perspectives for their characters. Their inventiveness threatens to upstage and lose the heart of the piece at times, but their performances are inspiring.

As the four lovers, Aaron Simms, Kristin Price, Sorsha Miles, and Linda Jones are excellent. Actors oftentimes recite Shakespeare with breath-filled voices, dramatic phrasing, and emphasized iambic pentameter. Simms, Price, Miles, and Jones, however, make the language fresh with their spirited performances. As Demetrius, Simms exudes perfect Alpha Male pheromones when fighting for Hermia—the wonderful Miles—who now loves another woman. In her now gender-bending role, Jones is not a disappointment. Her acting is sharp and hilarious, and is the highlight of the production.

Laura LeBleu and Sara Moore are excellent as well. LeBleu makes Titania an interesting character as opposed to one that Oberon and Bottom upstage. LeBleu exudes perfect doses of passion and heat that the role requires. Moore is the perfect Bottom. Her comic timing and expressive qualities are driven from character. Watching her movements and facial expressions when she is not speaking—its own experience—shows her dedication to the role.

If ever Shakespeare had grounds to roll in his grave, this production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is it. However, what makes Shakespeare dramas interesting is their willingness and openness to off-the-wall interpretations, and this is what the Vital Theater proves.

"Almost, Maine," by Matt Windman

In his first play, John Cariani (Tony-nominated actor for his portrayal of Motel the tailor in "Fiddler on the Roof") invents a playful image of a romantic utopia in the community of Almost, Maine. Gabriel Barrie’s direction brings a smart style to production, which takes place on a spare, surreal nighttime setting and uses light pop music.

Though Cariani’s collection of skits does not add up to the sum of their parts, his enthusiastic romanticism is catchy and creative. This would probably make a perfect date show for both young and old couples. If you’re in love, you’ll like it; if you're a cynic, you probably won't buy into it. The show may have been more effective at an intermissionless 90 minutes, rather than at a dragging 2 hours, 15 minutes with an intermission.

Still, in spite of what might be interpreted as cloying cutesiness or , there is certainly something brave and noteworthy in Cariani's optimism. I look forward to seeing his next play "Cul-de-sac," which the Transport Group will produce in the coming months.

Daryl Roth Theatre, 20 Union Square East, 212-239-6200, $26-66. Fri-Sat 8pm, Sun 7pm.

"Fish Bowl": Reality TV Parodied - Again. Review by Elizabeth Devlin

Fish Bowl deals with a reality-television game show, with six contestants chosen to duke it out for 11 million dollars. Before the game officially begins and the rules are explained, however, something goes awry and no one is really sure if they are fighting for money or just to survive. This play seems to beg the question of “How far is too far in voyeurism and ratings?” Unfortunately for the piece, this question is not a new one, nor does it succeed it its attempt to answer said question in a new and entertaining way. The main problem with this production is that it parodies that which has already been joked about the nth degree. Egomaniacal transsexuals, egomaniacal television producers, and socially awkward hillbillies are not new or shocking subjects.

The production is not without merit, however, as the cast does manage to provide entertainment with caricatures of reality show “stars” we love to hate. Katie Apicella, Jeff Edgerton, Simone Harrison, and Mike Borelli, all deliver laughs in the face of material that could be funnier. Jeff Edgerton’s role is the most grounded performance we see, and causes his Benjamin to be the most sympathetic character in the show. I’m actually still chuckling when I think of his security-blanket dry-erase board.

The integration of multimedia is not only done well, it actually enhances the show (because of the pre-established television setting) when so often such devices tend to detract from a production. All the technical aspects of the show deserve credit, from the set (which makes a good use of limited space) to the lights and sound.

The incorporation of dance, which is humorous in the beginning, becomes less so and feels rather pointless as the piece continues.

Perhaps more die-hard fans of reality TV would see more in this show than I did. The technical aspects and talent will, however, keep me on the lookout for the next production of the I Ate What? Theatre Company.

The I Ate What? Theatre Company presents Fish Bowl at the Michael Weller Theatre through January 22nd, no Tuesdays. http://www.theatermania.com/ for tickets and info.

TSI Playtime Series Reviewed by Nicholas Linnehan

TSI presented an evening of diverse one acts. Most pieces had good actors, with far less talented writing. It was difficult to watch the artists struggle with ill conceived texts. An exception to this problem was How to Speak Women by Ray Payton. This play is a great example of what happens when great writing and great actors meet; vibrant and engaging theatre ensued. Played well by Jeff Besselman, Natasha Gavin, Ray Payton, and Carrrie Tarvis this play is funny and poignant, making it the highlight of the evening.


The other works show potential, but are in need of tighter scripts and technical assistance. The actors in these works do their best with the limited resources they are given. Yet, TSI notes that these are "works in progress" and should be commended for giving voice to new theater.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream," by Matt Windman

Producing a comedy by Shakespeare, even one of his best comedies, will be a challenge for any theater company, of any size or stature. The Vital Theatre Company and Honkbark Production's Off-Off-Broadway “Midsummer” (though playing at an Off-Broadway theater) features about 20 actors, an onstage band, and some nice visual effects, but nevertheless does not present a unified, meaningful vision. The ensemble’s acting is very awkward, and many unsuccessfully try too hard for laughs. Even more out of depth is the decision to cast Lysander as a woman, an interesting idea that is never successfully explored or justified. Also, the set design creates a dark, dungeon-like atmosphere that is ill-suited to the play.

McGinn Cazale Theatre, 2162 Broadway, 212-352-3101, $12-15.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream" by Jess Lacher

HoNkBarK Productions' somewhat uneven interpretation of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" features fighting, accordions, cross-gender casting, platform boots and ample silliness, which makes it a safe bet for even the Shakespeare-phobes among us. Falling somewhere short of inspired, the production manages more than a few luminous moments, picking up speed as it goes and delivering a beautifully clowned Pyramus and Thisbe in the second act.

Lysander is a lady, which makes for some generally successful same-sex coupling, thanks to Linda Jones’s strong performance. Earle Hugens’ sad Puck has seen better days, his gut hangs over his furry pants. Otherwise, things are much as you expect them to be-- confused lovers are tripping through the wood, fairies are causing mischief. The real joys are when Quince and his players take the stage, led by Sara Moore’s remarkable Bottom. Her cross-eyed, ass-headed excitement recalls Burt Lahr’s Cowardly Lion on speed.

Director John Ficarra is determined to make use of the multi-level stage, which means somebody is obligated to leap eight feet into the crash mat about every three minutes. Though the fight choreography isn’t as sharp as it should be, and the first act has its lulls, there is a lot to like about this “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” and Hippolyta is right when she declares, “This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.”

Vital Theatre Company (at McGinn Cazale Theatre)
2162 Broadway, 4th Floor
New York, NY 10024
Tickets: 212-352-3101
$15.00 Adults
$12.00 Students
Schedule:
Thursday 8:00pm / Friday 8:00pm / Saturday 8:00pm / Sunday 6:00pm

In The Continuum by Nicholas Linnehan

It is not often that I go see a play and find one that reverberates in my soul. In The Continuum certainly is the exception. Played brilliantly by Danai Gurira and Nikkole Salter, this show educates its audience about the epidemic of HIV among Black Women and those who live in Africa.

The real beauty in this production lies in its versatility. The actors inhabit many different people throughout the play, allowing the audience to grapple with different perspectives about each main character. The portrayal of each role is profoundly honest, which allows the audience to relate to the human truths of this piece.

Despite the serious nature of this work, the actors provide many wonderful moments where the audience can laugh, which is a necessity due to the heavy nature of the work. Remarkably, In The Continuum educates without pontificating, provokes without being patronizing, and effects you without indulging in needless emotion.

Rated a must see in 2005, this play is a definite one not to miss in 2006.

“Anton” by Hannah Snyder-Beck

“Anton” is a new play by Pierre van der Spuy that explores the life of one of the world’s greatest playwrights, Anton Chekhov. Using all sorts of sources--including actual letters between Chekhov and his wife and leading actress Olga Knipper--van der Spuy’s work depicts Chekhov’s difficult relationships with the women in his life and his ongoing conflict between work and familial responsibilities.

The central concept of van der Spuy’s play is interesting, indeed. However, there are numerous problems with this production. To begin with, Mr. van der Spuy has little theater training and/or experience. Before his acting debut in May 2005, Mr. van der Spuy was a strategic management consultant and, before that, a doctor with clinical experience in South Africa, Canada and England. Mr van der Spuy’s academic background is impressive; however, when it comes to creating theater, medical accomplishments and academic studies hold no currency.

Mr. van der Spuy is much too academic in his approach. His attempt to make his script Chekhovian is painfully self-conscious. Moreover, the script is clunky and, at times, feels too modern for the time period in which it is set. As an actor, van der Spuy has some raw talent in that he seems at ease on stage and has a substantive stage presence. However, his lack of training and experience is glaring. It is difficult to understand van der Spuy due to a thick accent and poor enunciation, and he fails to make any physical or emotional choices whatsoever.

As the title character and star of this production, van der Spuy is a one-note-nancy, failing to infuse his character with inner struggle, emotional drive and passion. At one point, Anton catches Olga (Ana Kearin Genske) reading his will behind his back. A moment that should have been filled with personal tragedy and feelings of betrayal was, instead, marked with unlikely calm. In Act II, Anton at last has an emotional outburst in a confrontation between himself, his mother (Loyita Chapel) and Dr. Isaak Altshuller (Kent Langloss). However, there was no character growth or movement leading up to this moment, making the outburst difficult to believe. Mr. van der Spuy’s monotonous portrayal might be explained by one of Dr. Altshuller’s lines. He says: “What’s behind your mask, Anton? Even when you’re drunk you don’t give anything away.” In his attempt to characterize Anton as a man who does not readily show his emotions, Mr. van der Spuy is too literal in his interpretation to give an effective performance.

In addition to writing and starring in “Anton,” Mr. van der Spuy also serves as the production’s director. As such, he is heavy-handed and his staging is static and repetitious. Throughout the production, members of the cast move to the center-down-stage position, a stage location that is usually quite powerful when used sparingly. However, van der Spuy uses the position too frequently and actors trying to lose themselves in reverie while in that spot end up looking amateurish and predictable.

It would be unfair to criticize the cast of “Anton” because flawed directing makes it nearly impossible to distinguish between choices that the actors themselves have made and instructions given to them. Nonetheless, it is worth noting that as Evgenia, Anton’s doting mother, Loyita Chapel manages to rise above the fray to deliver a solid and well-rounded performance. Kent Langloss also makes a valiant effort to wade through the mire. Langloss is clearly a talented actor, as evidenced by many truthful and stunning moments he has as Dr. Altshuller. If at times he seems inconsistent, it is through no fault of his own; like the rest of his compatriots, Mr. Langloss is an unfortunate victim of faulty directing.

Toward the end, the play becomes increasingly heavy-handed and didactic. As the tedious production at last grinds to a halt, one can’t help but think that it is never a good idea for a person to direct himself in a piece that he has written--unless of course the person is Clint Eastwood. The concept behind “Anton” is intriguing and Mr. van der Spuy should be commended for his bravery in trying out theater at such a late time in his life. However, Mr. van der Spuy needs to be reminded that most of us in the business have been working at it since pre-pubescence and have still not perfected our craft. To be a successful theater artist, it takes more than a few classes in “the biz” and a deep curiosity; it takes everything.

Beauty of the Father, by Matt Windman

In a Nilo Cruz play, the lyrical and metaphorical use of dialogue sends his audience into a suspended, poetic world of uninhibited sexual passions, imminent dangers, and vibrant Latin American culture.

Cruz suddenly gained national attention three years ago when his play “Anna and the Tropics” unexpectedly won the Pulitzer Prize. “The Beauty of the Father,” his newest play, is now receiving its New York premiere at Manhattan Theatre Club’s Off-Broadway space at City Center.

Whereas “Anna” is an actual history play, “Beauty” takes place in the present day but conjures the spirit of the Spanish poet-playwright Federico Garcia Lorca as a narrator. Upon arriving in Spain, an American girl meets her father for the first time, gains feelings for his Moroccan companion, and ultimately becomes consumed and entangled in this unfamiliar foreign culture.

Clad in white, Oscar Isaac creates a mischievous but mysterious presence out of Lorca. Ritchie Costner, as the father figure, projects a kind of melancholy in the midst of impossible desire and unfulfilled youth.

Though the plot devices still seem undeveloped, Michael Grief’s eloquent choreography and stunning use of stagecraft ultimately makes “Beauty of the Father” a meaningful, magical, must-not-miss experience.

Manhattan Theatre Club at City Center, 131 West 55th Street, 212-581-1212, $48. Tues-Fri 7:30pm, Sat-Sun 2:30 & 7:30pm.

"A Midsummer Night’s Dream" By Hannah Snyder-Beck

"Now playing at the Mcginn Cazale Theater is HoNkBarK! company’s latest production, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” One of Shakespeare’s most enduring comedies, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” a la HoNkBarK! includes a mammoth cast of 22, complex fight choreography and cross-gendered casting."





Now playing at the Mcginn Cazale Theater is HoNkBarK! company’s latest production, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” One of Shakespeare’s most enduring comedies, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” a la HoNkBarK! includes a mammoth cast of 22, complex fight choreography and cross-gendered casting. In this version of “Midsummer,” Linda Jones takes on the male role of Lysander, fair Hermia’s devoted lover, and plays Lysander as a female. This makes for interesting commentary on same sex couples, particularly at the top of the play, where the lovers decide to elope because the Duke forbids their marriage.

Ms. Jones makes for a fierce Lysander. However, at times, she rushes through her dialogue; her rapid line delivery is somewhat disorienting and takes the audience out of the world of the play. As Hermia, Sorsha Miles stands apart from her cast mates, delivering a well rounded and solid performance. Sara Moore bravely assumes the role of the farcical and charmingly egotistical Bottom. Ms. Moore clearly has a penchant for comedy and a wealth of comedic skill; she does, after all, have extensive experience with circus performance. However, it seems that Ms. Moore has borrowed too much of her circus background for the role of Bottom. In this “Midsummer,” Bottom comes across as a goofy cartoon character. Unfortunately, Ms. Moore has missed that what lies at the heart of Bottom’s comical follies is his genuine belief that he is a formidable actor, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Bottom’s wayward troupe of actors includes Francis Flute (Richard Bolster), Peter Quince (Todd Faulkner), Starveling (Jo Mei), Snug the Joiner (Shauna Miles), and Snout (Bridgette Shaw). As Francis Flute, Richard Bolster delivers an effective and charming rendition of Thisby in the play within the play. The rest of the mechanicals, however, seem too self-conscious in their pursuit of comedy. Rather than make specific character choices, the actors who play the mechanicals have chosen to play caricatures and, in the process, have succumbed to comedy’s fatal trap: playing what the actors themselves believe to be funny.

Director John Ficarra makes good use of the multi-level set, expertly designed and implemented by Scott Aronow. There is the feeling, however, that Ficarra has allowed his determination to make good use of the marvelous set to overpower his directing process.