A CHRISTMAS MEMORY and ONE CHRISTMAS
at Pacific Resident Theatre
Reviewed by Edward Shapiro
Perhaps it's because I'm a hardened New York Jew who grew up with a serious case of Christmas envy that Christmas specials and films affect me the way they do. I cried four times the last time I saw It's a Wonderful Life, a few times during Miracle on 34th Street, and even once during the animated Year Without Santa.
But at the Pacific Resident Theatre's reading of Truman Capote's A Christmas Memory and One Christmas, the tears started during the opening line. Sitting on a stool between two fellow actors, Michael Tolin, in the words of the seven-year-old Capote, began to lovingly describe his mother's beauty. His simple, direct voice, with a lilting drawl, eased into the text, luxuriating in Capote's gorgeous language, and, with nothing but the words and his incredibly expressive eyes and face, painted a picture as vivid and touching as anything I've seen on a Los Angeles stage this season.
Capote's two stories focus on childhood Christmases spent in New Orleans and Monroeville, Ala., with his father (Christopher Allport, who alternates with Matt McKenzie) and elderly cousin Sook (Gretchen Oehler), respectively. The events of the stories, poignant though they are, aren't particularly important. What resonates are Capote's descriptions and his amazing awareness of detail and emotion. He knew, for example, after surreptitiously watching his father arrange the presents under the tree, a fire in the hearth preventing the entrance of Santa, to lie and exclaim, "Look what Santa brought me!" He knew not to say "I love you" on command. And he knew the power of a flask. He describes a Christmas breakfast of "flapjacks, hominy grits, fried squirrel, and honey in the comb," and how Sook would annually sit up in bed and cry, "Oh my, it's fruitcake weather!" His is a Christmas of another world, experienced by a Capote unlike anything the man would later become, and it's beautiful.
The three actors, under Michael Peretzian's efficient direction, sit on a bare stage, music stands and text in front of them, and almost never leave their stools. Effectively accompanied by Erin Barnes on xylophone, their performances couldn't be fuller. Tolin has an remarkable gentility and warmth that work for both the reminiscing narrator and the seven-year-old Buddy, as Capote was called then. He states the facts without a hint of remorse or bitterness, and in so doing, had me smiling broadly as the tears streamed down my face. Oehler's Sook, who at sixtysomething is as much a child as Buddy, is a wonder. As Capote describes how the two of them flew their Christmas kites, her eyes search the sky, her mouth agape, and she conveys joy as if she had never known it. Allport, as the father desperate to win the love of his child and at a loss as to how, is also quite good.
The tragedy of holiday theatre offerings is that they only last through the season. Don't let this one get away.
"A Christmas Memory" and "One Christmas," presented by and at the Pacific Resident Theatre, 707 Venice Blvd., Dec. 5-23. (323) 660-8587.
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THE CHRISTMAS LETTER
at the Copperview Theatre Company
Reviewed by J. Brenna Guthrie
Theatregoers looking for an evening of Christmas cheer at the theatre to end a long day of braving the malls, trimming the tree, baking the goodies, and all the other holiday trappings, but turned off by the idea of another moldy Dickens rehash, can find respite in the Copperview Theatre Company's The Christmas Letter. This evening of monologues based around a child's letter to Santa found in a train station has enough laughs and good tidings to liven up any chilly evening.
Actor/director Christopher Wojtylko, who also conceived the piece, has kept a tight rein on his cast of five fellow actors, many of whom also helped write the monologues, and the result is a strong showcase for all involved, not only of their acting chops but also their impressive intuitive sense of what makes interesting characters. The evening starts with a rather hostile postal employee J. Buddy Robinson (Andrew S. Barth), whose dislike of children's letters to Santa stems from punishments received to sort through all these "freeloading" messages ever year.
Next, we see the interaction between Frankie (Randy Irwin), a homeless man who sells wire bracelets to acquire a used sleeping bag, and Shane Womack (Caleb Humphreys), whom we soon find out is an ex-pro football player whose career was ended when he permanently injured another player on the field. Following the interaction between the two men, the young drug addict Brenda (Lisa Hillman) enters, needing her next fix and anxiously awaiting her dealer, whom she believes has opted to spend quality holiday time with his children instead of seeing to the needs of his customers.
This is quickly followed by a touching encounter between Father Frederick (Wojtylko), who is suffering from a crisis of faith, and Donny (George Sheldon), a retarded young man whose optimism about life seems to bring the priest a new outlook. Finally, we get a very funny encounter with Bob Jingle (Derek Roche), an ex-elf looking to start his own toy company.
All the individual pieces have strong dramatic arcs, and the sextet of actors deliver the material with just the right emotional punch to make them both quite hysterical and properly nostalgic. Personal favorite moments include Frankie's tale of how he came to suspect and finally learn that Santa does not really exist, Brenda's explanation of her drug dealer's holiday obsessions, and Bob's fall from grace (which includes the delivery of an ultra-violent toy to the naughty little Davy Berkowitz).
The evening is bookended by a delightful little silent film of families celebrating Christmas, interspersed with clips of the character's lives. Wojtylko also shows strong talent for set design with his cozy, realistically rendered multi-level train station.
"The Christmas Letter," presented by and at the Copperview Theatre Company, 1953 Cahuenga Blvd., Hollywood. Dec. 11-20 and Jan. 8-17, 1999. (323) 469-4343.
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A GAY CHRISTMAS CAROL
at the Hudson Avenue Theatre
Reviewed by Les Spindle
In this age of political correctness, it was probably inevitable that someone would eventually give us an alternative-lifestyle Scrooge, as we discover that at the heart of this skinflint's mean disposition is the pent-up frustration of living in the closet. Freudian complexities aside, A Gay Christmas Carol, the brainchild of producer Leigh McLeod Fortier (along with director Steven Benson and writer Claudia Allen), is a witty spoof that combines unabashed camp with a smidgen of genuine heart.
Allen's featherweight script is bolstered by Tony Frankel's divine comic performance as the cranky yet empathetic miser Scrooge and smashing turns by Julie Sheppard as Judy Garland, Byron Batista as Liza Minnelli, and Amber J. Lawson as Bette Midler (the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future, respectively). Frankel is a master of the throwaway line, essential for true camp. This Scrooge is a greedy mortgage broker whose favorite word is "foreclose," yet Frankel makes the character endearing‹more befuddled than bedeviled.
Sheppard (who is noted for her one-woman cabaret show impersonating Garland) delivers two or three classic Garland songs with panache, and Lawson does likewise with Midler standards. Lawson especially shines in Frank Wildhorn's haunting ballad "Living in the Shadows" (from Victor/Victoria), which seems poised to supplant "I Am What I Am" (from La Cage Aux Folles) as the out-of-the-closet gay anthem.
Other sprightly performances include Batista's flamboyant take on a cross-dressing Jacob Marley and Brian C. Bethel's alternately amusing and poignant portrayal of Tiny Tim as an emotionally abused young homosexual. Lending fine support in multiple roles are Gregory Balaban, Maile Flanagan, Angela Nicholas (as the lesbian Bobbi Cratchit), and Kevin Vavasseur. The lovely red/green hues that dominate both the uncredited set pieces and Batista's dazzling costumes add to the merriment. Ron Snyder's musical direction is lively, and Plume Buigues' lighting effects are smashing.
This is the season of generosity, but it would be amiss to imply that all is jolly in Scrooge's West Hollywood ghetto. "Ouch" is the appropriate response to certain lame gag lines, and the painfully obvious parody lyrics are unlikely to make Gerard Alessandrini (Forbidden Broadway) lose sleep (to wit: "We Swish You a Merry Christmas" and "I'm a Queer Gay," derived from "On a Clear Day"). And it would be refreshing to find one gay camp show without a character launching into "Rose's Turn" from Gypsy. This new work needs some shaking out, but by and large Fortier and her collaborators have provided what looks like a new holiday season perennial that is deliriously gay in the original sense of the word.
"A Gay Christmas Carol," presented by Leigh McLeod Fortier and Melinda McLeod Fortier at the Hudson Avenue Theatre, 6537 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood. Dec. 12-Jan. 3, 1999. (323) 856-4200.
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PRESENT LAUGHTER
at the Lucie Stern Theatre
Reviewed by Judy Richter
Present Laughter is considered No"l Coward's most autobiographical play because its main character, Garry Essendine, is a famous English actor who's almost always acting, even in real life. He's surrounded by a group of loyal if somewhat eccentric friends and besieged by would-be lovers of both sexes.
TheatreWorks' production, directed by Tom Lindblade, captures much of the work's style and wit, especially with Eric E. Sinkkonen's richly detailed set; Fumiko Bielefeldt's elegant, theatrical costumes; and Ellen Shireman's complementary lighting. Although the pacing in Act One lags in a few spots, it picks up in Act Two. Lindblade's well-chosen cast doesn't always mine the full comic potential of Coward's frothy plot, but then the play does lack the dramatic and comic flair of both Private Lives and Blithe Spirit.
Nevertheless, there's much to enjoy, especially in Mark Capri's performance as the vain Essendine, who fears his youth is slipping away. Even more enjoyable is Rebecca Dines' well-grounded portrayal of Liz Essendine, Garry's wife. Although they no longer live together, they still love and care for each other, as evidenced by Garry's trust and dependence on her and by her concern for him.
Also worthy of special note is Caroline Shaffer as Garry's loyal, competent, discreet personal secretary. Benjamin Privitt delivers an over-the-top portrayal of an aspiring, wildly adoring, puppy-dog-like playwright who is attracted to Garry and connives to be with him. His female counterpart is played somewhat shrilly by Christine Williams. Another woman with designs on Garry is the wife of his manager and mistress of his manager's partner. Amy Resnick does well as this blatant seductress. John Edward Clark and Tom Woosnam as Garry's managers don't put enough variety or depth into these relatively small roles. Erin-Kate Whitcomb and Andrew Ragone complete the cast as Garry's housekeeper and valet, respectively.
One annoying problem with this production, as with many plays of the period, is the amount of onstage smoking. Though it's undeniably accurate for the time the play was written (1938), director Lindblade could have had the actors go through the motions without actually lighting up, thus sparing the audience much discomfort.
"Present Laughter," presented by TheatreWorks at the Lucie Stern Theatre, 1305 Middlefield Rd., Palo Alto. Dec. 2-Jan. 3, 1999. (650) 903-6000.
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TWELFTH NIGHT
at the Sobrato Auditorium
Reviewed by Judy Richter
Because Shakespeare is so timeless, his plays lend themselves to updated "concept" productions. This approach often works, but not in the case of San Jos Repertory Theatre's production of Twelfth Night. Director Michael Butler lays a flamenco concept on this well-constructed comedy, but he goes too far in several key respects. Perhaps the most egregious is that he replaces all of Feste's songs with traditional flamenco songs, original music by musical director/guitarist Jason McGuire and additional lyrics by Jos Manuel Blanco, a.k.a. "El Grillo," all of them sung in Spanish. Blanco also plays Feste, but his accent is so heavy and his acting so stiff that nearly all of the fool's wit is lost.
Shakespeare's language also falls victim to George Castillo as Orsino, who seems to have no sense of how to deliver and project it. On the other hand, Alma Martinez as Maria has strong Shakespearean credentials, a clear sense of her character and the ability to convey it and her lines. Finally, Butler cuts several scenes and adds some flamenco numbers feauturing Blanco's raspy singing. Despite fine dancing by choreographer Yaelisa and Omri Dahan, these numbers interrupt and slow the flow of the play without amplifying on it.
To Butler's credit, though, he has cast some excellent actors in other key roles. Kelly Curtis is a charming, unaffected Viola, who is seen primarily in her Cesario disguise. Curtis triumphs in the role even though she apparently had laryngitis at the reviewed performance. Natalie Venetia Belcon is an attractive, regal Olivia, but Butler misdirects her as she begins expressing her love for Cesario. Throwing all dignity to the wind, her attraction is so blatantly sexual that Belcon literally chews the scenery.
The physically imposing James Avery makes a marvelous Sir Toby Belch, Olivia's drunken uncle, while Mark Fish is wonderfully nerdy as his hapless sidekick, Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Their nemesis is the ever-reliable Remi Sandri as Malvolio, whose diction is so precise that it makes Shakespeare's language sing in ways that eclipse the actual music in this production. Mark Bennington is appealing as Viola's twin brother, Sebastian. The rest of the cast is adequate, as are the contemporary costumes by Shigeru Yaji and shipwreck-dominated set by Giulio Cesare Perrone. James Aitken's lighting and especially Jeff Mockus' sound beautifully evoke the seaside setting.
"Twelfth Night," presented by the San Jos Repertory Theatre at the Sobrato Auditorium, 101 Paseo de Antonio, San Jos . Dec. 4-Jan. 9, 1999. (408) 291-2255.
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FANTASTIC MR. FOX
at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion
Reviewed by Scott Proudfit
The L.A. Opera's Fantastic Mr. Fox, adapted from Roald Dahl's children's story, has two things going for it, production-wise: designer Gerald Scarfe and movement specialist Phillip Hill.
Scarfe's wonderful revolving set is reminiscent of the Splash Mountain ride at Disneyland, a fun and spooky rollercoaster through the hidden animal world. On one side of the wooded hill is a fox den and path painted in cartoon colors with an exaggerated scale, complete with trapdoors, hides, and holes, through which sleek, shiny animals pop in and out. On the other side of the hill is the comically teetering three-shack development, occupied by the villains of the piece‹three farmers who wish to do away with the title hero. These outrageously ballooned or emaciated grotesques, distorted as if through funhouse mirrors, bluster out of their oversized doors as if they've jumped right off the pages of the children's book. Scarfe's circus Gothic costumes complete the vision‹brightly silly with a dark edge. For example, he outfits Farmer Bean as a combination of Frankenstein and Whoo Doo from the Lidsville, if you can picture that.
Scarfe has also done great things with texture, such as the rubbery green Miss Hedgehog costume, reminisent of a dog's chew toy, or the enormous cardboard cutout-appearing Agnes the Digger, with her miner's light eyes. His design recalls the delightful drawings in the Dahl original, but fully realizes the material in three-dimensional space, bringing originality and an individual touch to the fable's characters.
If only the same could be said of the rest of the creative team. Unfortunately, the libretto by Donald Sturrock is repetitive and shallow, completely devoid of the wit and sharpness of Dahl's book. Not only does Sturrock (who also directs) fail to capture the charm of the main characters, he indulgently expands other characters needlessly, such as giving a pointless aria to Rita the Rat, who's conceived as a moldy, philosophizing New Age flapper. Other times, he introduces wrinkles, like the hero worship that Mavis the Tractor feels for Agnes the Digger (the machines from the book have been made characters in the opera), but then never explores these relationships.
We never see what makes Mr. Fox so fantastic, but we get a glimpse of the complex inner life of minor characters like Miss Hedgehog. Truthfully, Miss Hedgehog's aria is the lyrical highlight of the show, as she mourns for her rapidly fleeing youth. If only the crux of the piece‹the conflict between the wily fox and the three farmers out to get him‹had been formed before enriching the subplots.
Tobias Picker's score is rather flat, with a few magical moments in the overture and other times when no one is singing. Not that the voices are inadequate in any way: The excellent cast is strong across the board, though only Sari Gruber as Miss Hedgehog and Suzanna Guzman as Mrs. Fox really get a chance to shine.
Besides the design, only Phillip Hill injects any life into this largely dull piece by finding character and humor where the text has none. Hill has worked wonders in differentiating each animal by the way he walks, scratches, leaps, and crawls. If the opera had moved with the same assurance, specificity, and comic sensibility, it might have been fantastic indeed.
"Fantastic Mr. Fox," presented by the L.A. Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, Music Center of Los Angeles County, 135 N. Grand Ave., L.A. Dec. 9-22. (213) 365-3500.
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BECAUSE SEX AND CIDER SELLS
at St. Cecilia's Playhouse
Reviewed by George Weinberg-Harter
Taking the opportunity of a dark month to use Sledgehammer Theatre's facilities, this nascent ad hoc troupe is offering a trio of short plays by A.R. Gurney, Romulus Linney, and Lanford Wilson, loosely linked by the recurring themes of weird sex, dubious pregnancy, and incest. The cider referred to in the ungrammatical collective title is sold hot in the lobby and may be much appreciated in the wintry, unheated nave of St. Cecilia's Playhouse.
"An evening of humorous and thought-provoking plays" reads the subtitle, but that is only accurate up to a point. Despite credits for three fairly heavy playwrights, these are extremely lightweight plays, ranging from silly to bathetic. The best ones of the lot come first: Gurney's The Problem and Linney's F.M. These are amusing, though they amount to little more than skits.
The Problem, directed by Bryan Bevell, has a cartoonish married couple spinning outrageous whoppers to spice their conjugality. Sherri Allen, pert and goofy as the wife, plays very well off John Steed's stolid and nerdy husband as their interchanges escalate in pace and absurdity.
Linney's F.M., directed by Don Loper, caricatures students of creative writing in their troubled first session of a class on the subject. Allen returns in the role of an impertinent problem student who wants to write a poisonous roman â clef about her ex-husband; M Susan Peck makes comical capital as a posy-loving Pollyanna, and Fred Harlow is fervently sincere as a big ol' country boy working on a manuscript in a humid Southern Gothic style along the lines of Faulkner, Capote, and Thomas Wolfe‹long passages of which he reads aloud, outraging his classmates. The playwright's sympathies seem to lie with the writing instructor (perhaps having been there himself), but he makes the character such a blandly patient and professional pedagogue that D. Candis Paule, playing the part, finds little more to present than the smooth persona.
Paule has a juicier role in Lanford Wilson's Home Free, in which she portrays the sick, pregnant, infantile, incestuous sister of an agoraphobic imbecile, frenetically played by Harlow. Since there is nothing very humorous about this concluding play of the series, it must be intended as the thought-provoking portion of the evening. The thoughts most likely to be provoked, however, concern why such an awful play would be produced (perhaps on the strength of Wilson's reputation) and how long until the excruciating experience might reach its melodramatic and pointless conclusion. The best efforts of the players and of director Loper do nothing for this dud.
The basic scenic designs are by David Weiner, but the rest of the technical work is not credited.
"Because Sex and Cider Sells," presented by Never Force the Tool Productions at St. Cecilia's Playhouse, 1620 Sixth Ave., San Diego. Dec. 3-30. (619) 616-8503.
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N.Y. BENCH PLAYS
at the Bitter Truth Theatre
Reviewed by Madeleine Shaner
Stan Lachow's four N.Y. Bench Plays about love and loss, which all take place on park benches in and around New York City, resonate strongly under the direction of David A. Cox.
Antiques, while tidily written and well handled by actors T.J. Castronovo and Mike Reynolds, is the least successful of the four because it treads very familiar turf. Two old men, retired business partners, arrive each day at the same time at the same bench in the park. They are clearly defined as optimist (Castronovo) and pessimist (Reynolds), and the bulk of their conversation is a dirge against aging, carried on as a duet between two terminal bickerers. If they were women, it would be called whining and they would be classified as old bitches; as men, they're granted the dignity of being colorful old codgers. Old laundry is wrung out, old battles re-fought, but not too much changes‹you know they'll be there again tomorrow, airing the same old grievances.
Margaret is a solo piece featuring a very distressed woman mourning the death of a loved one. Vi Dupre takes command of the piece after a too quiet start‹it's hard at first to hear or understand her sadness, but she overcomes a tendency to envelope herself in her grief and finishes strongly with a surprise ending.
Jeopardy is a duet for two seemingly dissimilar voices‹a smart young businessman, Lenny (Roberto Bacalski), waiting out the results of his wife's mammogram, and a not-quite-a-bag-lady, Lenore (Lois Weiss), whose rhetorical style is a constant verbal avalanche of dissatisfaction and disgust at everything within her purview. When these two finally hit the same wave, the effect is quite moving, mainly due to by Weiss' impeccable, funny, and deeply felt characterization. The O. Henry ending is forgiven because of two fine performances.
A Garden at St. Luke's also features grief, again distributed to two very different women, a fragile Kansas housewife, Dorrie (Lee Wylde) and an inner city African-American woman, Ruby (Rose Marie Johnson), who discover they have more in common than they would have believed. Once more, coincidence plays a major role. Awesome performances by the two women make this the highlight of the evening; Johnson, particularly, is a powerhouse of emotion which reaches out and smites the unwary.
While all the plays have substance and power despite their brevity, the presentation here is problematic. Both acts are opened and closed by a song, written to complement the play's themes, and performed on a synthesizer by their composer. These seem to have been tacked on to tie the four plays into a neat package, but the songs are mawkish and unmusical, and they hinder rather than help the whole. Diana Dorer sings her own compositions at the Saturday and Sunday performances. She shouldn't. From the program, it seems different songs and different singers appear at the Thursday and Friday performances, along with a different cast. On those, I couldn't comment.
"N.Y. Bench Plays," presented by American Renegade Theatre in association with State of Grace Productions at the Bitter Truth Theatre, 11050 Magnolia Blvd., N. Hollywood. Dec. 4-indefinitely. (818) 762-4430.
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THE RADIO CITY CHRISTMAS SPECTACULAR
at the Universal Ampitheatre
Reviewed by Wenzel Jones
The eye-popping spectacle starts long before the sumptuous red curtain rises on the recreation of the Radio City Music Hall stage‹a stage flanked by Christmas trees so severely electrified that they throb like miniature supernovas. What follows may be the definitive celebration of consumerism and wretched excess‹a show for all ages, but only certain income levels.
The Rockettes, who are the centerpiece of the evening, are the most eager-to-please bunch of girls‹and I use the term advisedly‹you'll ever see. Whether pouring out of a cab in Santa-nymph costumes or gamely marching around with instruments mounted on their backs, there's a sense that they're all so darn glad to be here that it would be poopy of you not to feel the same way. Their signature piece, "The Parade of the Wooden Soldiers," is the one time both their teeth and legs are covered as they display their trademark precision. As you might expect, there are many kicklines in the course of the evening, each of which garners enthusiastic applause.
The better half of the show is devoted to numbers in which people either shop or exchange gifts while singing and dancing. "Santa's Workshop" concerns itself with market demands ("More ragdolls!") and product distribution. Linda Haberman's choreography is as spectacularly big as everything else and has that pneumatic, early-'80s Vegas feel to it. The cast is a testament to good orthodontia, and their enthusiasm borders on the terrifying.
Lip service to the less temporal aspects of Christmas is paid at the end when the Living Nativity takes the stage. This is "reverently offered" as a celebration of the birth of Jesus, an event presented as the original source material for "all" the music and the dancing that has come before. Spectacle being what it is, this piece involves the always entertaining smattering of barely cooperative animals and the unforgettable vision of elaborately garbed ancients adoring the Christ child through sweeping false eyelashes. Though it purports to touch on the True Meaning of Christmas, I think we all know better. Christmas is about shopping and legs.
"The Radio City Christmas Spectacular," at the Universal Amphitheatre, Universal City. Dec. 9-29. (213) 252-8497.
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NOTCRACKER: THE NUTCRACKER PROJECT
at the Los Angeles Playhouse
Reviewed by Brad Schreiber
While this holiday co-production between the Open Fist Theatre Company and Circle X Theatre Company is proud to titularly disavow much connection to Tchaikovsky's beloved musical suite, it never establishes a cohesive throughline in its sketches. Taped cues from The Nutcracker are to be expected, but there is little point in replaying ad nauseam certain passages. Add abashedly silly ballet, mixed with more earnest efforts, and you have a program as confused as its credits, which include "Co-Conspirator and Confidant" or "Brainstorming by..."
The collaborative nature of the evening weakens whatever charms lie herein, starting with "The Fall of the Snowflakes," a melodramatic attempt at comedy, as Bella (Teresa Castracane) and Teresa (Alisa Wilson) wonder if they'll ever graduate from the low-rent ice show in which they both perform. Wilson mumbles incoherently and is leaden emotionally.
Serving as a segue, in theory, are presumed husband and wife (David Wichert, Jody Hahn), the former inert, the latter whiny, as they drag through a huge mall. The inability to articulate meaning with the pieces is foremost in "To Russia, With Love," which finds an American inexplicably among Russians clustered about a holiday table. "Isolation" suffers the same spinelessness, as a woman wrapping presents refuses to answer calls on her machine. We have no idea why.
Clashing with these playlets is the weakly absurdist, lightly sado-masochistic themed "Some Thoughts on Gift Giving," in which a dominatrix/slave relationship, supposed infatutation with the sexual organs, and (giving the writers the benefit of the doubt) the redemptive value of sex, is as scattered as wrapping paper after the kids have attacked their presents.
The closest Notcracker gets to a unique concept is with "Waltz of the Wallflower," as a clown (Richard Augustine) connives to connect with a lonely woman in a fancy restaurant after both have been stood up. An a cappella chorus helps the predictable shenanigans for a while. In the end, "Waltz," like the program, co-directed by Eugene Buica and Gwyn Fawcett, has nowhere to go and takes its own sweet time not getting there.
"Notcracker: The Nutcracker Project," presented by the Circle X Theatre Co. and The Open Fist Theatre Co. at the Los Angeles Playhouse, 1625 N. La Brea Ave., Hollywood. Dec. 4-19. (323) 969-9239, ext. 2.
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DECEMBER IN AMERICA, STORIES FROM THE HEART
at the Sacramento Theatre Company
Reviewed by Barry Wisdom
Featuring orchestral numbers, culturally diverse readings, a Broadway medley, as well as a Christmas carol or two, Sacramento Theatre Company's December in America, Stories From the Heart could well pass for a politically correct '90s-style public school pageant. What it can't pass for, however, is gripping or even exceptionally fun theatre.
Conceived by STC Artistic Director Peggy Shannon and Michael Neumann, musical director of the Sacramento Youth Symphony, and directed by STC Artistic Associate Gary Armagnac, this "info-tainment" is a review/revue of such religious and cultural events as Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, and Christmas. Eighteen musicians and four narrators‹two of the latter also serving as half of a vocal quartet‹take turns in providing seasonal music, background information, and inspirational stories that reflect the individual celebrations.
In what I imagine is a unifying gesture, the show's musical opener is "The Star Spangled Banner" (performed by the vocal quartet). It's an odd choice that left me wondering whether to sing along, stand, or yell out for a hot dog and beer. That question was soon pushed out of my head, however, and replaced with facts galore. We learn, for instance, that Kwanzaa means "first fruit" in Swahili. Similar treatises on Christmas and Hanukkah are also offered.
With nothing to do onstage between their few numbers, some members of the vocal quartet were already exhibiting lapses in concentration during the opening day matinee. Hassan El-Amin, in particular, looked as if he could use a long winter's nap during Act One's four consecutive orchestral pieces (which was about two too many).
While El-Amin was heavy-lidded during downtimes, he did seem to make an effort to communicate to the audience when "on." Still, he, Gordon Goodman, and Mary Jo Mecca pale in comparison with the vivacious performance of Christina Norrup. Sparkly like a holiday in a teal-green gown, this talented and poised singer not only exudes genuine interest during the readings and instrumentals but actually appears prepared for her role. Save for Norrup, no one else onstage appeared to have sung "Jingle Bells" before. Ho-Ho-huh?
That's not to say the other three aren't fine singers. To his credit, the very WASPy-looking Goodman acknowledges how miscast he is for his "If I Were a Rich Man" solo during Act Two's Fiddler on the Roof medley by playing it to the exaggerated hilt.
But December in America feels like one of those events you should go to rather than would actually want to go to. And don't we all have enough obligations this time of year?
"December in America, Stories From the Heart," presented by and at the Sacramento Theatre Company, 1419 H St., Sacramento. Dec. 11-20. (888) 478-2849.