Rebecca Juliet Lazier: Six Years Later
Reviewed by Lisa Jo Sagolla
Self-presented in association with Joyce SoHo, at Joyce SoHo, 155 Mercer St., NYC, Sept. 23-26.
Just back from six years of traveling, including a teaching stint in Turkey, choreographer Rebecca Juliet Lazier presented an evening of well-crafted, yet somewhat stale, dances at Joyce SoHo. Though Lazier's works are respectably made, they feel dated and lack an inventive oomph or freshness.
Her opening solo, "Twilight," is propelled by kinesthetic impulses that drop and rebound quickly into sharp gestures, shapes, turns, or runs. Lazier embraces the natural movement style of a pure modern dancer and makes choreography that feels very human, full of breath and feeling, not at all formalistic.
A shockingly loud burst of rhythmic sounds, played by composer-percussionist Shane Shanahan, launches "Sepia," a schizoid solo in which Lazier juxtaposes crazy and calm kinetics; hurling herself about or vibrating uncontrollably one moment, she oozes through long, stretchy moves the next. Though Lazier dances powerfully, when compared to the slyly composed score that alternates quiet, shimmering sounds or portentous rumblings with startling, high-decibel eruptions, the choreography appears unimaginative and Shanahan emerges as the star of the show.
Shanahan also composed and performed the percussion score accompanying the premiere of Lazier's ensemble work "Songs About Water," a solidly crafted dance rich in activity and striking images. While the piece is fast paced and the movements interestingly unpredictable, no clear meaning is ever manifested. The ugly costumes-work shirts and calf-length skirts of heavy, drab-colored cotton-lend a depressing, proletarian look to the proceedings that is often out of character with the energies of the dancing.
Two of Lazier's Turkish students-Mihran Tomasyan and Duygu Gungor-performed "Con-tusion," a warlike duet (again, to Shanahan's thrilling music) that depicts a battling couple confused by the forces that drive them aggressively together and apart.
The evening also included "What's in a Name," a weak attempt at a text-driven comic solo, and "Yaren," a contact-improv-like trio of rolling, curving, clumping figures that proved more sedative than ensnaring.
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Caught in the Act 99 Program A
Reviewed by Victor Gluck
Presented by the Threshold Theater Company at HERE Mainstage, 145 Sixth Avenue, NYC, Sept. 11-Oct. 3 in rotating repertory.
The Threshold Theater Company's annual "Caught in the Act" festival is a great service, presenting rarely seen plays from the international repertory, both by famous authors and ones new to these shores.
Program A concluded with a lost treasure from Hungary-Ferenc Molnár's "Still Life" in a delightful translation by Eugene Brogyányi. Written in 1925, it is a precursor of both No"l Coward's "Present Laughter" and Harold Pinter's "The Lover." It is also a variation on the plot of Molnár's famous full-length "The Guardman."
Sovary, an actor starring in a provincial company, is mistrustful of his lady friend, who is also in the company. When he finds that she has been out all day on their day off, this sets the stage for a battle royal between them. However, it becomes more difficult to say when they are seriously angry and when they are acting. And finally they break into song from the operetta in which they are appearing.
The team of Joel Leffert and Nancy Nichols had exactly the right panache and theatricality for this witty souffl . Peter Bennett's direction maintained that fine line between high style and posturing. Debra Stein's costumes were as theatrical as the characters.
"Fair Kirsten" (1988), by Denmark's Kaj Nissen (translated by Julian Garner), is a monodrama set in the Danish court, which tells its story through dance as well as the spoken word. Jennifer Paulson Lee's choreography for this gothic tragedy set at a court ball is impressive, but subbing for Tricia Paoluccio, Lee was unconvincing and wooden in her character as the Princess Kirsten, who has embarrassed her brother the king by her promiscuity. It is difficult to say where Lee's choreography left off and Gabriel Barre's direction began, as Kirsten is dancing throughout the play.
The middle play, "The Orphan's Dowry" (1930s), from France's Pierre-Henri Cami (translated by Daniel C. Gerould), is a charming fairy tale but inconsequential at five minutes in length. Paul Bartholomew, Carolyn Dempsey and Erol Tamerman were excellent in using story theatre techniques to tell this tale of a rag-picker, a damsel in distress and a recalcitrant oyster.
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Caught in the Act 99 Program B
Reviewed by Victor Gluck
Presented by the Threshold Theater Company, at HERE Mainstage, 145 Sixth Ave., NYC, Sept. 11-Oct. 3.
The second evening of international one-act plays in English translation presented by the Threshold Theater Company as "Caught in the Act 99" is linked by the themes of adultery or betrayal. The most important of the plays is the one from the Austrian master Arthur Schnitzler, translated as "Bacchanalia" by Eugene Brogyányi.
After the recent Schnitzler updates of "The Blue Room" and "Eyes Wide Shut," it was fascinating to see a Schnitzler played as he intended. Daniel Gerroll's production of this 1915 jewel had exactly the right theatrical style which the modern adaptations lacked. The only flaw was the translation, which sounded authentic yet heavy and uncolloquial.
As a prominent playwright who turns the tables on his wife and her new lover, Victor Slezak dominated the stage from the moment he arrived in the train-station cafe. As his wife, Melissa Gallagher sparkled with the platitudes that only the innocent in love can utter. As her complacent lover who turns out to lack resolve, Rick Stear was suitably pompous and rigid.
The curtain-raiser, Julio Matas' 1960s "Ladies at Play," has much in common with Genet's "The Maids." Two sisters await the visit of a friend they have not seen in 15 years, for whom they have an unpleasant surprise. This black comedy is not quite as funny as the performances of Victoria Patrick, Eleanor Ruth, and Diana Marbury would have you believe. Michael Rupert's direction needed a more absurdist approach than exhibited here. On the positive side, Rob Bevenger's costumes for this play and "Bacchanalia" were delightful without being obtrusive.
The middle play, Georges Ribemont-Dessaignes' dadaist "The Mute Canary" (1919), was the most problematic. The play, which allows for many interpretations, appears to have a cuckolded husband go out hunting his wife's new lover-one that she refers to as her panther. Erol Tamerman as the hunter, Lisa Ann Goldsmith as the woman, and Orlando Powers as the lover all seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their theatrical persona. The clever setting by Jeanine Phaneuf and Russell Stevens allowed the audience to feel it was looking in from the outside.
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The Tailor-Made Man
Reviewed by Robert Windeler
Presented by the Torchlight Theatre Company, at Centre Stage NY, 48 W. 21st St., NYC, Oct. 3-24.
In the 1920s and '30s no one in Hollywood was gay-thanks to big studio moguls and their publicity departments. These malign paternalists arranged "romances" and marriages for their suspect stars, paid off the police and press, and resorted to outright blackmail. William Haines, a handsome young leading man who gave John Gilbert some serious competition, ignored those arrangements and flouted his homosexuality, living openly with his male lover at a time when the rest of the gay movie colony was sneaking over to George Cukor's pool on Sunday afternoons.
MGM, Haines' studio, and its czar, Louis B. Mayer, put up with and covered for Haines until his box-office numbers slipped. Mayer fired his star when he was caught with a sailor in a hotel. Mayer also blackballed Haines with every other major studio. Haines found a second career as Hollywood's best-known interior designer-he even redecorated a home for Mayer's daughter-and lived openly for another 35 years.
This rich and layered tale is well told in a generally sparkling production of "The Tailor-Made Man," by Claudio Macor, who also directed. This American premiere is blessed with the central performance of Matt Walton as Haines, who could have been cast for his looks alone but manages to evince both the humor and pathos of this singular Holly-wood tale. Standout performances in support include Franca Bar-chiesi as Pola Negri (to whom MGM tried to marry Haines off), J M McDonough as Mayer, Sarah Burns as Marion Davies, and Helen Buck as Carole Lombard. (Davies and Lombard were sufficiently powerful to openly befriend Haines.) The glamorous female movie star costumes lent by Helen Uffner are nifty.
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"On Stage" Goes on The Road
"New York-1 On Stage," the weekly theatre program, is getting its act together and taking it on the road. The program, currently seen on New York-1 News only in New York City, will now be broadcast on Cablevision's News 12 channels in New Jersey, Connecticut, Long Island, and Westchester County starting Sat., Oct. 9. The half-hour program will be retitled "On Stage" and be broadcast in those tri-state areas on Saturdays and Sundays at 9:30 am and 7:30 pm. It will continue to air on NY-1 on Mondays at 9:30 pm and 12:30 am.
The show is hosted by Sharon Dizenhus and features reviews by Roma Torre, and commentary by Patrick Pacheco of Newsday and David Sheward, managing editor of Back Stage.
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Dance as Ever
Reviewed by Lisa Jo Sagolla
Self-presented at Pace Downtown Theater, Spruce St., between Park Row & Gold, NYC, Sept. 16-18.
Choreographer and Founding Director Leigh Witchel's chamber ballet company, Dance as Ever, presented an enjoyable evening of short ballets at Pace Downtown Theater.
The program's centerpiece was "Armature," a new work that's either fascinating or tedious, depending on the nature of one's interest in ballet. The more deeply one is in love with the nuts and bolts of the classical vocabulary, the more passionately one responds to "Armature." Less-enamored viewers may find the work disjointed and empty in its demonstration of how brief movement phrases are repeated, repositioned, and reconfigured in the building of a ballet, taking on different personalities as the musical accompaniment is varied.
The indisputable tasty treat of the evening was the appearance of guest artist Charles Askegard, a principal dancer with New York City Ballet. In a cheery solo, "Aubade," he flitted about the stage highlighting Witchel's flowery choreography with arresting pirouettes, robust legwork, and brief moments of pensive introspection.
"Scherzo Fantastique" featured three women (hideously costumed by David Quinn, in gaudy maroon dresses) sailing back and forth across the space in never-ending series of swirls and saut s. Though their actions were light and lovely, we longed for moments of stillness or stationary body shapes on which to rest our eyes from time to time. The continuous whirlwind of dancing excited only in the moment and left no visual images to later recall and savor.
It was Matthew Mohr's set-a collection of empty picture frames hanging all askew-that established the work's haunting, fantastical mood. Though the dancers appeared to be imagining romantic scenarios and partners from the past, the dramatic eeriness of it all wasn't embodied in the choreography.
Witchel's smartly choreographed neo-classical work "Horizon" showcased the individual talents of his dancers. The men-Barry Leon, Ted Sothern, and Abraham Miha-all displayed admirable technique in solo moments. While Frances Katzen has a perfect ballet body and striking skill, Adriana Jacinto, who brings elegant warmth to the cold, angular moves, proves the more affecting performer. Tiny Mary Carpenter is competent and adorable, but a tentative approach weakens her performance quality.
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The Vagina Monologues
Reviewed by Eric Grode
Presented by David Stone, Willa Shalit, Nina Essman, Dan Markley/Mike Skipper, and the Araca Group, at the Westside Theatre (downstairs), 407 W. 43rd St., Oct. 3-Jan 2.
Midway through Eve Ensler's "The Vagina Monologues," one woman describes the feeling of "vaginal wonder" attained during a self-awareness course. By the end of this audacious, insightful evening, audience members of both genders achieve a similar state of reverence, curiosity, and bliss. Bliss at the elation our bodies can give us if we (and those around us) allow it, and bliss at the skill and delight that Ensler brings to these tales.
Ensler devotes a chunk of the evening to describing the Rorschach-like questions she asked her more than 200 subjects (how your vagina would dress, what it would say-that sort of thing), then turns the more universal passages into a series of well-honed monologues. These range from stand-up comedy to harrowing tales of abuse. Some of the credit for navigating these various topics must go to "production supervisor" Joe Mantello, but the evening belongs to Ensler.
If the vagina does it, she describes it, in all its lyrical, potent reality. The vagina knows pleasure. It bleeds. It wants. It suffers. One of Ensler's finest moments comes as she describes the bloody grandeur of a relative giving birth. She likens the vagina's alterations to those of the heart: "It can change its shape to let us in. It can expand to let us out. So can the vagina."
Unlike Danny Hoch or Anna Deavere Smith or other monologists, Ensler doesn't always change her delivery or intonation from character to character, and a certain sameness creeps in by the end of the piece. But the material more than compensates for it: You can forgive a lot when confronted with the dozens of sounds that accompany an orgasm.
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Epic Proportions
Reviewed by Irene Backalenick
Presented by Martin Markinson and Donald Tick, at the Helen Hayes Theatre, 240 W. 44th St., NYC. Opened Sept. 30 for an open run.
The best to be said of "Epic Proportions" is that it runs a mere 80 minutes-and without intermission. Nonetheless it is an interminable 80 minutes. This piece of silliness, meant to be a spoof of the old Hollywood Biblical epics, turns into a spoof of itself.
One had every right to hope for a Broadway landmark, given the formidable talents involved. Jerry Zaks directs, with Kristin Chenoweth and Alan Tudyk as its stars-all of whom have excellent track records. But though they struggle valiantly with their material, the material itself lacks wit, bite, and excitement.
Co-writers Larry Coen and David Crane have created a story set in the Arizona desert, where a company is presumably filming a Cecil B. DeMille-type extravaganza. It is to be nothing less than the history of mankind, traced through the Biblical, Egyptian, Greek, and Roman eras.
So much for the play-within-the-play. At the same time, the real-life drama unfolds. The director is holed away in a cavern, watching porn films. Thus an unknown becomes the de facto director, stepping into his shoes. He picks up an outsized ego along the way, becoming totally absorbed in his new persona, and his neglected girl friend turns to his brother for consolation. None of this is new stuff-nor is it meant to be. But what is done with the same old story is what matters. Though Chenoweth and Tudyk are both accomplished performers, you cannot, as the saying goes, spin gold from straw-unless you happen to be Rumpelstiltskin.
This, however, is no fairy tale, and magic is in short supply. Yet there are clever devices, as when the audience becomes "extras," slated to play the mob scenes. And David Gallo's clever set design provides the imagination and wit too often lacking in the script itself.
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Fully Committed
Reviewed by Irene Backalenick
Presented by and at Vineyard Theatre, 108 E. 15th St., NYC, Sept. 30-Oct. 30.
With the opening of "Fully Committed," Vineyard Theatre once more proves its ability to offer its audiences the best in new work! This time it's a devastating social commentary on the hip New York restaurant scene.
Everything comes together-pacing, performance, and material-to create an exhilarating roller-coaster ride of a show. This hilarious one-man play is the work of a gifted trio-writer Becky Mode, actor Mark Setlock, and director Nicholas Martin. The work is based on characters developed by Mode and Setlock, and there is no question that the two have had intimate experience with this world.
As to the story: An actor is trapped in a restaurant job which he needs in order to survive-until he gets his big break. Meanwhile, he puts up with an incredibly stressful situation. While the story is, indeed, familiar, it's what Setlock, et al, do with the material that sends it soaring.
Setlock is alone on a stage that seems to be teeming with characters. His main character is a lowly reservations clerk in New York's trendiest restaurant. While would-be diners beg. cajole, clamor, bribe, threaten, and turn themselves inside out, all to be given a dinner reservation, Setlock (who plays Sam) handles it all in his basement headquarters. He sits at a grungy, cluttered desk, taking outside calls interspersed by staff demands from upstairs.
Setlock is not only Sam, but also the voices at the other end of the line. What emerges is a cast of thousands, and he nails them all. From rich bitches to insufferable celebrities, to Arab potentates, to the volatile chef, to Sam's own down-home, slow-speaking midwestern Dad, they create a remarkable gallery. Each portrait is razor sharp, instantaneous, and right on target. Setlock is totally in command of Mode's wonderful material, giving each character his or her due, with never a pause, never a moment of dead weight.
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Alison's House
Reviewed by Victor Gluck
Presented by and at the Mint Theater Company, 311 W. 43rd St., NYC, Sept. 24-Oct. 17.
It is Dec. 31, 1899. The Stanhope family is breaking up the home of the late Alison Stanhope when a group of suppressed poems revealing her love for a married man is discovered among her papers. Will the family publish them or will they continue to safeguard the privacy that her sister Agatha has been shielding?
This is the conflict in Susan Glaspell's "Alison's House," the 1931 Pulitzer Prize-winner suggested by the publication in 1929 of Emily Dickinson's "Further Poems: Withheld by the Poet's Sister" which is being given its first New York revival by the Mint Theater. The turn-of-the-century atmosphere is haunting as 1999 draws to a close. The theme of privacy of public figures is again a major issue of our time.
Beautifully directed by Linda Ames Key, "Alison's House" is talky, old-fashioned, and dated. It is also dramatic, engrossing, and moving. The last act, which contains most of the drama, is worth waiting for. Some of the acting is impassioned and subtle; some is one-dimensional and bland.
The production is more successful for its women than its men. Karla Mason as Alison's niece, Elsa, and Sharron Bower as Mr. Stanhope's secretary and the daughter of the woman he loved are beautiful, talented actresses. Their scenes shimmer with authenticity. Sarah Brockus as the self-righteous daughter-in-law who is always the one to voice the criticism gives a dead-on portrayal of a conservative know-it-all. Playing the harried maid, Jennie, Ruth Kulerman was most amusing.
As the older generation, Ann Hillary as Aunt Agatha and Lee Moore as her brother, John Stanhope, are believable but continually over-indicate their intentions. As John's sons and Alison's nephews, Gerard O'Brien and Matt Opatrny take the easy path to caricatures. In a pivotal dramatic role as the reporter, David Fitzgerald commands the stage but is not very convincing as a budding poet.
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Mud and Drowning
Reviewed by Irene Backalenick
Presented by the Signature Theatre Company at the Peter Norton Space, 555 W. 42nd St., NYC, Sept. 26-Oct.10.
Continuing its practice of devoting an entire season to one playwright, Signature Theatre focuses this year on avant-garde writer Maria Irene Fornes. Opening the Fornes year are two one-acts: "Mud" and "Drowning." "Mud" is a longer, more significant piece than the curtain-raiser (in this case, curtain-lower) "Drowning." While the former is a powerful feminist statement, the latter makes no statement at all.
But "Mud" makes the evening well worth while. This one-hour drama set during the Depression, deals with a woman's search for a better life. Mae, who attends school, has goals her mate is incapable of understanding. Their lives are marked by a deprivation that is intellectual and emotional, as well as material. Their dialogue consists of short, rancorous exchanges in basic English. Lloyd shouts, demands, accuses, and sulks, while Mae steadily irons one pair of trousers. Into their lives comes the more educated and affluent Henry. In inviting the second man to join their household, Mae creates an awkward, potentially explosive, m nage à trois. Indeed, it all ends badly, particularly for Mae. Yet her struggle for self-fulfillment is not in vain. Fornes has turned this woman, with her dreams, guts, aspirations, and ultimate failure, into a kind of heroine.
Deirdre O'Connell has a special feel for the role and gets solid support from actors Paul Lazar and John Seitz. The best that can be said for "Drowning" is that it is visually stunning, and that actor Marc Damon Johnson gives an eerie, touching performance. With the roar of the sea in the background, two Humpty-Dumpty-like creatures appear. One, knowledgeable of the ways of man, reads from a newspaper. The other, all innocence and curiosity, yearns over the photo of a woman. The dreamlike dialogue proceeds in slow motion, but goes nowhere. If there is profound meaning here, it is certainly elusive. But the design team deserves high praise for this piece-and the other as well. Christine Jones' set, Teresa Snider-Stein's costumes, Scott Zielinski's lighting, and John Kilgore's sound all join forces to create the bleak, dreary world of "Mud" and the eerie dream-like world of "Drowning."