Huntington rocks Tom Stoppard's "Rock and Roll"

Tom Stoppard is that rare playwright who can appeal to the mind as much as the emotion. His latest play, Rock and Roll, which has been extended at the Huntington Theatre through December 13th, is the perfect example of the playwright's mastery of catharsis, intellect, and politics. Take Czechoslovakian, communist politics told through the perspective of a collegiate family in Cambridge, England, spanning three decades and underscored by a rock and roll score of pre-punk dissidents, and you have the basic premise for Stoppard's Rock and Roll. Of course, to assume that anything is basic to Stoppard is like assuming Shakespeare's brevity. Although this milieu could easily be tainted, I believe this production has scored solid gold number 1!



The production of Rock and Roll is a "co-production" with American Conservatory Theatre (ACT) in San Francisco, as the marketing ploy goes. But the fact is that the production is directed by their artistic director, Carey Perloff, designed and built by their technical team, and cast out of their auditions. Therefore, the Huntington merely gave money to produce the show rather than had any artistic in-put, which is why this production far outshines any other work produced by the Huntington in the last few seasons. As the jury is still out on Peter DuBois' contribution to the Huntington, I think the last two shows have been a poor defense, but the partnership with ACT seems to be a winner. This show is quite simply the best production I have seen in Boston in recent memory.


The plot of the show is complicated and defies cursory synopsis. However, I will attempt a bare-bones summary with preemptive apologies to Czech historians, music aficionados, communists, and Mr. Stoppard for my inaccuracies. The play opens in Cambridge, 1969 in the home of Eleanor and Max, two college professors the latter of which is a self-described communist despite the political ramifications of the word. Their daughter Esme has developed a crush on Czech student, Jan, while Eleanor battles cancer and Max battles the astigmatism of his political belief. Jan returns to Czechoslovakia and we learn that he was collecting information, though negligently, for the Czech government. Suddenly, we are placed in his flat which is filled with LPs of rock and roll, the perfect expression of political dissent, in his view. Enter a parade of characters and scenes that provide either further exposition into the characters' lives or their political leanings. Act II jumps into the 1990s with the idealistic Max holding onto his communist beliefs; the political martyr, Jan, adapting to life after jail; the now-grown Esme trying to make peace within her family; and her daughter, Alice, entering Cambridge and surpassing her mother's intellect.

Taking the helm of this challenging work are two actresses whose work equals the technical bravado and composition of the piece. Rene Augesen as the matriarchal and Sappho scholar Eleanor in Act I absolutely grabs one's heartstrings through her emotional and physical struggle with cancer. In Act II she plays a grown Esme delivering a convincing turn as the daughter of Eleanor as a grown woman who never achieved scholastic merit and merely (or is it) desires more than anything to be loved. Playing the younger Esme in Act I, Summer Serafin portrays the perfect blend of youthful sensuality and 60s' revolutionary. While in Act II she delivers as equally a stunning representation of Alice, Esme's daughter who balances her superior intelligence with a teenager's angst and familial struggle. Both of these actresses deliver such superb performances, it is hard to give equal credit to anyone else.

One reason for this may be Stoppard's own misogyny which gives the women more emotionally available roles while the male characters are stereotyped into debating politics and rock and roll. However, this stereotypic gender-divide can also be viewed as a feminist statement in that their emotional reactions to personal and political issues challenge the dominant white, male intellectual model of political activism. As much as I commend Stoppard for his intellect, I question whether or not he intended this interpretation. I believe he wrote the female characters arch's' with the intention of keeping audience interest and in portraying the personal within the political message. The result, however, is male characters too involved in their politics to be emotionally available to either their loved ones or the audience.

Speakeasy Stage Company presents "Seafarer"

Conor McPherson is a playwright whose work I describe as exploring the Irish storytelling aesthetic. His Broadway break-through, The Weir, was merely five Irishmen (one woman, for the record) sitting in a pub telling ghost stories which they believed to be true. Shining City (which had an impressive production at the Huntington Theatre last season) also delves into the realm of phantasmagoria, but with a psychological spin. His latest work, The Seafarer, presented now through December 13 by Speakeasy Stage Company, turns the theme from life after death to exchanging life for death. In other words, McPherson takes on Faust.

Having seen The Weir on Broadway and Huntington's Shining City, I understand that what McPherson's work needs more than anything else is virtuosic acting. Typically, his plays only work because of those great performances that take innumerable resources to locate and attain. That said, I wonder if this work is suitable to the resources and availability of Speakeasy Stage, which has "fared" better in the last few seasons.

The plot of The Seafarer is much like McPherson's other work in that it revolves around a bunch of Irish men (no women, for the record) in a unit set talking. The Irish men, in this instance, are a rehabilitated alcoholic, Sharky, and his blind brother Richard; their enabling and victimized friend Ivan; and two late-arriving guests, the self-righteous Nicky and mysterious Mr. Lockhart. Most of Act I is spent on exposition that explains that Sharky used to be an alcoholic and that Richard and Ivan still are. Act II takes place on Christmas Day and follows a poker game including Nicky and Mr. Lockhart. Insert scrupulous detail and background information on each of the characters' lives with a love triangle somehow thrown in for dramatic effect, and you get the basic premise.

Since, as I said, McPherson's work relies on virtuosic acting, I think the best merit of the show is not plot synopsis, but the delivery. Unfortunately, there were few deliveries from this Christmas show. Bob Colonna as the blind brother Richard was most dissappointing after his marvelous turn in last season's The History Boys. His affected dialect, apparent struggling for lines, and poor physicality in stage combat and business distracted from the pathos of the character. Billy Meleady as the "lead" brother, Sharky, lacked any panache whatsoever and one wonders why he was cast at all except for his authentic accent. Derry Woodhouse as Mr. Lockhart delivers a performance I can only describe as antithetical to what I imagine McPherson intended in the production: subtlety and control. Instead, Mr. Woodhouse's performance ranged from the melodramatic to the soap operatic, which is really the same as saying it was over-the-top. Only Larry Coen as the humorous Ivan and Ciaran Crawford as the sexually-charged Nicky deliverd performances that both served the text and brought their characters to life. Whether this opinion is a critique of the acting or the writing, it is hard to say as the roles of Ivan and Nicky carry much less weight that the others. However, when your attention and empathy are diverted to the supporting characters, something is certainly amiss.

I do believe that this was a most valiant effort by director Carmel O'Reilly and her team. Ms. O'Reilly, artistic director of Sugan Theatre, has impressed Boston critics and audiences with her own productions of contemporary Irish plays. However, McPherson's work seems to be in a genre by itself; one that eschews theatricality for storytelling. Therefore, the Hollywood lighting techniques and dramatic delivery of this work runs contrary to subtle storytelling and complex relationship intended. I commend Speakeasy Stage Company for attempting such a difficult work, but I imagine the rest of their season will "fare" better.

Jose Rivera's "Boleros for the Disenchanted"

Boleros for the Disenchanted is the much-anticipated new work by playwright Jose Rivera, author of the lauded Marisol, Cloud Tectonics, and the Academy-Award winning film The Motorcycle Diaries. Rivera is credited with popularizing magical realism on the stage much as his Sundance Institute mentor, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, popularized the genre through the medium of the novel. Rivera's most recent opus, however, eschews the form that brought him to fame in favor of a sentimental love story firmly grounded in realism. Granted, the play includes his signature poetic language, complex themes, and exploration of the theatre convention; however, those expecting pregnant men or postmodern angels will meet a new phase of the playwright's work and maybe disappointed.


The plot of Boleros follows the romantic follies of Flora, a young Puerto Rican, from her early encounters with philandering men through the discovery of her life partner, Eusebio. I must commend Rivera for the fact that his work often adopts a female protagonist. Typically, this assumption leads to a feminist critique of Western society; however, in this play, the female protagonist falls prey to stereotypical paternal situation that is neither cathartic nor political. Instead, Rivera portrays a relationship based in status quo politics as opposed to questioning the status quo that creates such paradigms. One theatre practitioner commented that Rivera had sold out to Hollywood with this play. And the general amusement of the audience surrounding me confirms this estimation. Good for him for delivering a play that speaks to Latino/a audiences in a strictly capitalistic level.


On the other hand, I was made aware of Latino audiences who found the representations of Latino/a's reprehensible. The father as drunk, mother as devout Catholic, young girl as chaste, and young man as philandering seemed too easy stereotypes to fall within. As the story is billed as Rivera's most-autobiographical work (the roles of Flora and Eusebio are based upon his parents), perhaps the stereotypic representations are rooted entirely in reality. This, too, may explain why the plot takes so long to take off (the entire production clocking in at a whopping 2 hours and 45 minutes) rather than skimming some of the details to get to the juicy love story.

The second act opens thirty years later after Eusebio and Flora have shared a loving life together with children, grandchildren, and a home in Daleville, Alabama. This device is what I find most appealing about the show and the fact that it utilizes the same cast in each act, a la Caryl Churchill's Cloud 9. The comments on love and a life lived together are some of the most heartfelt and beautiful scenes on the subject that I have ever seen in the theatre, though a bit more editing might have made the emotional impact a bit more powerful.

The performances are mostly sufficient with two exceptions. Flora Diaz, who replaced the original actress, as Flora in Act I and Eva in Act II is simply grating in both roles and does not have the chops against the other more established actors. Socorro Santiago, on the other hand, who portrays the matronly Dona Milla in Act I and Old Flora in Act II delivers nothing less than a star-turning performance. For most of the show, I simply could not take my eyes off of her; her unglamorous, emotionally wrenching performance deservedly brings the house down on more than one occasion. The other actors do a fine job, but are most commendable in the fact that they are so good looking. All in all, the epic nature of the play makes it a grand effort and one that, though long, brings many hearty laughs and significant tears - even from this jaded reviewer.

A.R.T.'s "The Communist Dracula Pageant"

A colleague of mine recently remarked that productions at American Repertory Theatre transcend colloquial theatre communique of "good," "bad," "I liked it," or "I didn't." The Communist Dracula Pageant, like last season's Donny Darko, is a perfect example of this otherness in theatircal discourse. I'm not sure that the play is good; I'm not sure that I liked it; but, it's one hell of a ride.

So, let's start with what I do know: Thankfully, the program and lobby are full of dramaturgical information telling me that the play is about the regime of Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceausescu and his wife, Elena. Elena, an Eva Peron-type persona, fashioned herself as a great scientist who dictated actual scientists to do research to which she would ascribe her name. Nicolae was a Communist politician who rose in rank until eventually appointing himself President of Romania. As part of his political rise, he staged pageants linking him with famous Romanian heroes, such as Vlad the Impaler, or Dracula in common parlance. Thereby the frame story of the title is established. However, the play has much more to do with Ceausescu's manipulation of power as a fascist dictator, the rebellion that led to his eventual demise, and his (and Elena's) trial and execution. It is political theatre at its most complex.

The play begins by presenting us with an interpretation of the agitprop pageants which Ceausescu mandated to further his political career. Exploiting a "bad acting" style coupled with ridiculous costumes, props, and choreography (the hammer and sickle cut-outs on the head are a nice touch), the playwright takes us into the world of the pro-Communist pageant. However, this is quickly subverted, when one of the actors asides to the audience using a Romanian dialect (all the other lines are delivered sans accent) to tell us the truth of the situation. This is a device used throughout the play to comment upon the theatrical presentation versus the factual, historic reality. It is an interesting approach, that hearkens the work of Brecht and achieves pure epic theatre. This is playwright Anne Washburn's greatest achievement or biggest downfall as the epic approach prevents us from siding with any one person.

The play uses an ensemble of actors to represent the people of Romania, officers within Ceausescu's regime, and the revolutionaries who overthrow him. As an audience, we certainly opine with the people's plight; however, we are never quite sure what we are supporting or refusing. The best example of this is a very effective scene where ensemble members dressed as stage hands and television camera crew position a dead body for a photo op. Although, the body was already dead, it is manipulated for political purpose. The scene is endemic of the entire play as it lasts too long and fails to communicate its purpose. Obviously, the play is a contemplation of the effects of power and politics upon the individual, but it also waxes poetic into the existential contemplations of truth, history, and reality. At the end, one can only identify a response of perplexion.

As previously mentioned, the production is worth seeing in its exploration of ART's unique brand of theatricalism. Veteran A.R.T. actors Remo Airaldi, Thomas Derrah, Will LeBow, and Karen MacDonald all deliver amazingly strong performances evoking the humanity in their characters even when it is not written into the script. Other members of the ensemble - primarily students at the A.R.T. institute - provide stiff, affected performances that are forgiven because they are so pretty. Expect to see these young people on Soap Operas rather than theatrical stages in their future careers. The only perplexing casting choices are John Kuntz whose overacting seemed unnecessary and cheap for the production and Matthew Maher, a NYC import, whose resume is impressive, but whose speech impediment effected his ability to morph characters which is essential in an ensemble production.

Although, I don't expect that the Communist Dracula Pageant will be appearing at a theatre near you anytime soon, I am grateful for the artistic vision of the ART to take a risk on such a show. It is particularly relevant given that it played during the heated election season. It's theme of the corruption of power certainly carries a thinly veiled political message for America in 2008 and here's hoping more theatres will dare to take a political stance over silk and softshoe.

The Kinsey Sicks "Wake the F**K Up America"

On November 5th, America woke up to the promise of a new president and democratic Senate and House which provided the perfect opening remarks for Kinsey Sicks' new show Wake the F**K Up America. This band of four drag performers concludes Theatre Offensive's Out on the Edge Queer Theatre Festival and I wish I could say it ended with a bang, but a low, dull thud like a high heel hitting an empty stage is a more apropos comparison.

Kinsey Sicks was the brainchild of Ben Schatz and Irwin Keller who perform the roles of Rachel and Winnie, respectively. It started with a group of four friends who dressed as the Andrews Sisters to attend a Bette Midler concert and were approached to perform for an event. Although they were not professional performers they realized that they all had "musical backgrounds" and decided to form the Kinsey Sicks. What the audience discovers is that their lack of formal vocal, dance, and theatrical training delivers a performance that is a cross between Wierd Al Yankovic and a college fraternity variety show. Remember that time your high school barber shop quartet brought a member of the audience up on stage... But, I don't want to give away all their gimmicks.

The "plot" of the show is a morning television talk show being filmed live before a studio audience (insert cliched audience participation here) with the Nunsensical device of keeping their Nielsen ratings up. We are introduced to each of the characters all of whom, we are assured are "real Americans." There's Winnie the nerdy, lesbian librarian-like leader of the group tall, skinny and coiffed by a giant red powder puff of a wig; Rachel the desperate, aging, and hairy foil; Trixie, the woman of color who fashions herself as a grand diva; and Trampolina, the easy, ditsy... well, it's really so cliched, you can figure it out. The plot is a loosely veiled excuse for their musical numbers which attempt to poke fun at gay marriage, body hair, sexual promiscuity, reality television, politics, and pop culture. The "script" is a smattering of puns and sexual innuendos, which may seem funny and even quite pithy in a drag bar in the Castro. Likewise, their vocal and dance talent can best be compared to performances at a karaoke bar at last call. As if their unprofessional performance wasn't bad enough, they conclude the show by thanking everyone who made this show possible and plugging their merchandise being sold in the lobby.

I was first introduced to Kinsey Sicks through short, heavily-edited clips on the internet and after sitting through a two-hour production, I believe their talent is best observed through short, heavily-edited clips on the internet. Clearly, the Sicks aspire to Charles Ludlum's brand of Theatre of the Ridiculous. However, their sophomoric humour and gimmicky performance merely achieves theatre of the tedious. Mr. Schatz and Mr. Keller have impressive resumes as lawyers who have worked passionately for LGBTQ Civil Rights and AIDS awareness and, I have no doubt, that they are having fun as the Kinsey Sicks. But, here's hoping, as the saying goes, they don't quit their day jobs.

Split Britches "Miss America"

Now through November 8, The Theatre Offensive presents the 17th Annual Out on the Edge Queer Theatre Festival featuring performance art and artists rarely seen on Boston-area stages. This festival is certainly one of Boston's most daring and accomplished enterprises turning the spotlight to artists whose work defies definition, challenges convention, and doesn't shy away from political performance and performative politics. The line-up for this year's festival includes choreographer David Parker and the Bang Group's Nut/Cracked, the drag-tastic Varla Jean Merman Loves a Foreign Tongue, Wake the F**K Up America starring The Kinsey Sicks, and Peggy Shaw and Lois Weaver's Miss America.

Peggy Shaw and Lois Weaver, which comprise two-thirds of the company, Split Britches, have risen to cult celebrity status in theatre, performance, and queer studies departments across the country. Their origination of the roles in Holly Hughes' butch/femme exploration Dress Suits to Hire earned Shaw an OBIE Award in 1987. Their original work (created with Bloolips), Belle Reprieve, a reverse-gender version of Streetcar Named Desire, has been widely anthologized and studied as an example of "lesbian performance and of the contemporary critique of gender politics*." Co-founders of NYC's WOW (Women's One World) Cafe, these artists are accomplished veterans and passionate in their political performances.

Their current work, Miss America, continues their legacy of exploring feminism, exploiting the butch/femme aesthetic, scrutinizing American history and politics, and challenging the representation of women on stage. However, there is a subtext to the performance representative in the aging female body on stage. Throughout the performance, their didactic message is both overshadowed and complimented by the aging bodies of the performers and all of the inherent (im)perfections. In performance art, the medium is the body. Therefore, the status of the body must be considered as both content and form.


The performance begins with Weaver weaving her way through the audience wearing a full-lenth fur coat, high heels, black bob wig, heavy make-up, and plastic tiara. She carries around her neck a camera and shoots pictures of members of the audience with the repeated phrase, "You never told me..." As we watch, assist, and participate in her maneuvering through the audience, Shaw sits on a park bench stage left staring at two capsized refrigerators, an industrial fan, and a slideshow screen, which comprises the set. By the time she has reached the stage, Weaver has commented upon memory, loss, ecological disaster, personal relationships, denial, et al. The caution with which she steps over chairs and relies upon assistance from the audience brings us into a compassionate cooperation with the performance.

Upon reaching the stage, the performance begins. Shaw assumes the position of a body struck by a vehicle with one shoe off - her body prostrate on the ground. Weaver takes pictures of her posture and questions her about her situation from the audience while carrying on a dialogue with this assumed body. The double entendre of the title need not be more obvious; unfortunately, the dialogue, at times, will be.

As a central theme to the work, Weaver stands in front of the slideshow screen and delivers a monologue reminiscent of television reporters documenting Hurricane Wilma. However, the connotations in the audience's mind is Hurricane Katrina which is skewered for political negligence and an apathy towards the American people.


Another theme of the work is the Miss America contest. Both performers state that they have dreamed of being named Miss America. However, this device is quickly subverted through the syntax of missing America. Weaver, in her fur, heels, and tiara, remembers an America where you could see the U.S.A. in a chevrolet, reminiscing the mainfest destiny of 1950s America. While Shaw stands on a capsized refrigerator telling us her childhood dreams of being Miss America.

The work of Weaver and Shaw defies cursory criticism as it is filled with images, words, dialogues, jokes, dances, and much more. It is impossible to define, but a medium they have been exploring for twenty years. Some audiences, familiar with their work, feel that they have not progressed in twenty years and wonder if their conventions (tap dancing, plastic bags, nudity) still resonate or are as powerful as they once were. However, I must return to the image of the aging body of the performers and the delicate grace and caution with which they moved through the space. If, as Brooks tells us, theatre can happen in an empty space with another watching - the choice of whose body (and thereby whose story) is displayed is central to the message. I thought Miss America was a beautiful work that continues - as these two performers have been doing for twenty years - to challenge the medium of theatre and audiences.



*Worthen, W.B. ed. "Introduction to Belle Reprieve." The Harcourt Brace Anthology of Drama. 2nd ed. Fort Worth, TX: Harcourt Brace, 1996.

Follies... finally

Let's face it, as theatre aficionados, we all have them. Those guilty-pleasure cast albums that we spent hours listening to in our bedrooms or basements imagining the sets and costumes and what the hell the story was really about between all those songs. For me, one of the biggest guilty pleasures was Stephen Sondheim's Follies. I can't believe I've lived a life in theatre this long without ever actually seeing a production of the show. However, this desire was finally satiated by Lyric Stage of Boston's consistently uneven, but mostly palatable production running now through October 11.

On the surface, there is a lot to criticize in this production: the proscenium blocking and choreography for a thrust stage, the uneven performances that produce wonderful songs or great acting but rarely both, the unfortunate designs of both costumes and set. If this were a for-profit Broadway show, I would rip these aspects of the production to shreds. But it's not, and what remains in this conscientious regional production is the heart of the show. The story centers on a reunion of faded follies girls upon the destruction of the theatre in which they used to perform. Set in 1971, the demolition of the theatre in favor of a parking lot is culturally symptomatic of urban planning of the time. However, the theme of urban renewal serves as a metaphor for the lives of the characters who compromised their dreams and are forced to live with the repercussions. In pop culture terminology, Follies is the "Golden Girls" of musical theatre. In theatrical parlance, it is a contemplation of the glorification of youth in our industry and an homage to those who have committed to a life in the theatre. The latter are presented with all their war stories and bruises presenting a realistic portrayal of life in the theatre as few shows dare to do.

As I mentioned, this production is largely uneven with the exception of the divas. Kerry Dowling as Stella, Bobbie Steinbach as Carlotta, and Kathy St. George as Solange deliver some of the most heartfelt, honest, and funny performances that you are likely to see on Boston (or the American) stages this year. Leigh Barrett as Sally Durant delivers her usual operatic performance nailing the nuance of every song but faltering in her dramatic work. Her delivery of "In Buddy's Eyes" is truly extraordinary, although, the 2nd act show-stopper "Losing My Mind" could have been taken up a step or two to accommodate her vocal range. Likewise, Maryann Zschau delivers a mostly solid comedic performance and simply nails "Could I Leave You," but leaves much to be desired in many of the dramatic scenes.

For the men, Peter Carey delivers a reasonably strong performance from the loosely drawn character of Buddy. The casting of Larry Daggett as Ben Stone is the single biggest mistake of the production. His acting, singing, and presence were simply soap operatic, unfit, and unskilled for this otherwise sufficient cast. Although, the older actors certainly earned their deserved place in the spotlight with this show many of the younger cast members also deserve mention such as Phil Crumrine as the younger Buddy, Aimee Doherty as young Stella, and April Pressel whose glorious soprano delivering "One More Kiss" is a highlight of the evening.

The choice to present Follies in the difficult Lyric Stage space was either an inspired or hubris decision of artistic director Spiro Veloudos, who is also director of this show. In terms of space and story, I can't say that Follies succeeds. However, he has managed to cast a significant number of top-notch talent who rarely have the opportunity to perform such luscious characters and music on the stage. I think the production is best summed up by the production number "Mirror, Mirror" which includes tap choreography by Ilyse Robbins and all of the Follies women dancing in step with the Follies girls. This magical number brings together the heart, the energy, and the sheer love of performance that is so rare in professional productions. With all the criticisms one could attribute to the performance, this number brings out the sheer joy of performing that brings us all to the theatre. In an age when theatres and Americans are financially struggling, Follies delivers a potent message sealed in a package of frivolity and amusement that is likely to please both the theatre snobs and the populace.

Dario Fo's "We Won't Pay"... Lost in Translation?

Dario Fo is one of only a handful of dramatists to be awarded the Nobel Prize for literature, among other luminaries as Pinter, Beckett, Sartre, and Camus. His work, however, is less often seen on American stages save for the occasional academic production. The Nora Theatre Company's bold choice to open their 21st season with Fo's We Won't Pay! We Won't Pay! demonstrates why his work rarely jumps the pond. Whereas the Nora delivers as fine of a production as imaginable, the utter "Italianess" of the play simply doesn't translate to the American stage.

We Won't Pay! quite simply plays like an episode of The Honeymooners with an Italian accent and a political message. The story begins with Antonia and her friend Margherita carrying in bags of groceries that were looted from the local market. In a lengthy monologue, Antonia explains how the women of the village banded together and refused to pay the rising prices for food. However, she explains, her well-mannered, law-loving husband, Giovanni, would never approve of her actions which sets into motion their extensive plot to conceal the groceries from him. Their machinations extend into the ridiculous encompassing a fake pregnancy, a police sergeant and state trooper, and feeding her husband beef-flavored dog food and bird seed soup with rabbit head. As the patron sitting behind me most adeptly noted, "This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen."

Whether this statement was a compliment or a critique, I am unsure. However, ridicule is the very basis of satire and as the Nobel judges lauded, Dario Fo was granted the prize for "emulating the jesters of the Middle Ages in scourging authority and upholding the dignity of the downtrodden." On the surface, I was willing to dismiss the play as a comedic political satire with slapstick humor and pedantic speeches. But as I thought of Italy’s legacy of theatre, I began to see a historical and aesthetic connection with commedia del arte (arguably Italy’s greatest contribution to theatre). This genre, much like the repertory companies of yore, relied upon stock characters portrayed by actors who spent years developing their Lassi. I wonder if this play doesn’t suffer from the American LORT model of producing theatre and, like Charles Ludlum’s Ridiculous Theatre Company, depends upon stock actors portraying stock characters.

This isn’t to say that the actors of the Nora’s production were sub par. Scott H. Severance displays a very Jackie Gleason-esque quality in his over-the-top humor. Likewise, Elise Audrey Manning captures a nubile comedy of Margherita worthy of comparison to Joyce Randolph’s Trixie Norton. The directing of the show mostly panders to the lowest common denominator of humor including pantomiming lines and constant prat falls. There were a few moments where I found myself guffawing, most notably the physical comedy of Margherita’s “water” breaking which turns out to be pickle juice and olives and provides a literal landslide to Giovanni. Likewise, the pantomimed fetus transplant pantomimed with silverware by Antonio Ocampo-Guzman heralded laughter and applause from the audience.

Despite the mind-numbing humor and pedantic speeches, I think We Won’t Pay! is a brilliant choice for Nora’s inaugural season in the state-of-the-art blackbox that is the Central Square Theatre. As I left the play, surrounded by the homeless and downtrodden people that fill Central Square, I couldn’t help but reflect upon the themes of the play. What if these multitudes were to revolt against the current system of price-gouging of gas prices, Starbucks coffee, and Gap jeans as did the wives and workers of Dario Fo’s opus? Could social reform begin with these people in Central Square? It is either brilliance or serendipity that planted this play here. If the measure of a play is its ability to transform one’s view of the world, the Nora Theatre has proved themselves as socially-relevant theatre with We Won’t Pay!

How Shakespeare Won the West... and the Huntington Lost its Audience

For the first show of his inaugural season at the Huntington Theatre, rookie Artistic Director, Peter DuBois has elected to produce a world premiere by veteran playwright Richard Nelson. As someone who has read all of Mr. Nelson's ouvre, I find this former Yale playwrighting teacher to be either too academic, too historiographic, or simply too dull for most mainstream theatre. How Shakespeare Won the West is no exception. Think of it as Quilters meets The Grapes of Wrath with the melodrama of telenovellas and you have the closest description I can think of for this patchwork, ragtag show.

Mr. Nelson (author of Two Shakespearian Actors and Some Americans Abroad, see previous entry) loves to use the stage as a platform for theatre history lectures culled from his former profession. Just as in Two Shakespearian Actors where he attempts to dramatize the dual that fueled the Astor Place Riots, this play is also "based upon a true story." Like a miniseries on Lifetime television, his dramatizations are two-dimensional and melodramatic giving an unpleasant spin on the genre that has become known as documentary theatre. As we have seen, the best work of this genre (e.g. Anna Deveare Smith, currently performing at the A.R.T.) has the power to use theatre as an agent for healing, for education, for change. Mr. Nelson's work, on the other hand, seems to institutionalize and ghetto-ize theatre into the genre of theatre-for-people-who-do-it. Academics, scholars, and theatre history teachers will no doubt find the morsels of history peppering the script fascinating, but those looking for an entertaining evening of theatre will no doubt be in-line for tickets to Follies at the Lyric Stage quicker than you can say "I'm still here."

The show follows a motley band of community theatre actors in 1848 from a bar in New York (called "The Bard") into the Wild West meeting all the trials and travails that you read about in your 4th grade history lessons or learned playing the old Oregon Trail computer game. Along the way, they encounter Indians, the black hills of the Dakotas, winter climates, and drunken settlers looking for "gold in dem dere hills." The themes are so cliche, they dare need repeating, much less dramatizing. Taking a lesson from Forrest Gump, the playwright dares to extend our disbelief including an introduction to Buffalo Bill and the invention of snow-skiing. Add into this the obligatory romantic triangles, death, and gay-bashing and you have a cookie-cutter format for a third-rate Broadway musical... without the orchestra.

There is a joke about Huntington shows that when you can't think of anything nice to say, compliment the set. Unfortunately, the stunning, over-produced scenery for this show is too busy being chewed by the actors to warrant much mention except that it seems nice when you enter the theatre. An ensemble cast feels like the most unprofessional cast of actors recently assembled on the Huntington Stage. The main two exceptions are Boston-native Jeremiah Kissel, whose over-the-top role as a confirmed bachelor allow for a deserving amount of well-delivered chicanery garnering well-deserved laughs. Susannah Shulman who plays Kate, the true actress and star of the traveling band of ruffians, gives an honest and heart-rending performance beyond the limitations of the script. I also applaud the character work of ___________ whose craft in playing everyone from P.T. Barnum to Buffalo Bill deserves applause.

What disturbs me most about this production is that this is what Peter DuBois chose as his first show in his inaugural season at the Huntington. As I watched the show, I tried to assess the decision in choosing this show over so many others and weighing the politics of thie choice. First of all, it's a world premiere. I guarantee that there are better unproduced shows out there worth producing. Richard Nelson is a major playwright. However, his work has not been widely received (and for good reason) and there are better established playwrights who would love the opportunity to premiere on the Huntington Stage. It's a show about theatre. Then revive one of the many backstage plays that serve the same function such as Jeffrey Hatcher's brilliant Compleat Female Stage Beauty, Quilters, The Grapes of Wrath, Compleat Works of Shakespeare Abridged, et al. What was Mr. DuBois thinking in choosing this as his first show? To me, it seems an attempt at a safe yet daring, artsy yet popular political choice. But the fact of the matter is, it's a bad play and any artistic director worth his merit should have seen that in reading the script. The winds of change are blowing in America and at the Huntington. We'll see if Mr. DuBois is a leader into tomorrow or, as this show displays, a step backward for the Boston theatre community.

New Season, New Directions

On Saturday August 9th StageSource - Boston's premiere service organization for the area's theatres and theatre professionals - hosted a (hopefully) annual conference focusing on "Raising Our Standard." Although most of the day was dedicated to round-table discussions by arts professionals, the highlight of the day was a discussion with the new artistic directors for the region's three major LORT theatres. In attendance were Curt Columbus, recently appointed Artistic Director of Trinity Rep in Providence, RI; Peter DuBois, incoming artistic director at the Huntington Theatre, and Diane Paulus, artistic director for American Repertory Theatre in Cambridge beginning in the 2009-2010 season.

Each of these artists practically embodied the organizations which they represent from the community-based, grassroots idealism of Curt Columbus to the uber-artistic, forward-thinking Diane Paulus with Peter DuBois falling short of artistic ingenuity but proving himself as an adept fundraiser and middle-of-the-road politico. The discussion moderated by the amazing Scott Edmiston (one of Boston's leading directors) and the self-gratifying Kate Snodgrass, illuminated many fascinating points on the role of the regional theatre in the 21st century as well as the particular direction each of these artists intends to lead their respective theatres and, thereby, the arts in the New England area.

Curt Columbus was, quite possibly, the star of the discussion given his two-season reign as artistic director of Trinity Rep. His vision can be summed up as reimagining the regional LORT theatre as a part of and an integral element to the community. Curt's idea that regional theatre needs to shed its ivory coating so that it can be relevant to the lives of every American is certainly not new, but definitely revolutionary in an era where regional theatres pan to corporate sponsors, sure-fire successes, or "educational" i.e. "safe" programming in order to keep their doors open. One of his most impassioned moments occurred as he recalled a group of students attending a matinee when a teenage audience member suddenly shouted, "I knew he was gonna do that." Curt's enthusiasm at this student's engagement with the art is emblematic of his entire leadership of Trinity Rep. I garnered from his presentation that he wants to break down the barriers that exist between the community and theatre - going so far as to say that we need to reclaim the idea of "community theatre." He wants his theatre to be an open forum - just as in classical Greece - where theatre is intended for everyone in the most democratic sense.

Diane Paulus proved an equally intriguing leader for American Repertory Theatre. As a director whose work has spanned genres from the night club of her long-running Donkey Show to classical opera and contemporary musical/theatre works, she has established herself as an innovator in the arts. Her approach to artistic leadership is to use the stages of A.R.T. as trial grounds for inventive performance. Her theory is that artists need to try-out work before an audience and that artists with an intriguing new idea have a place at A.R.T. Viewing the A.R.T. as a trial ground for new work is certainly a return to founder Robert Brustein's vision of the theatre. As Ms. Paulus recounted, when she graduated from Columbia University, she allegedly said that she would one day like to run the A.R.T. as Robert Brustein's legacy. A graduate of Harvard, Ms. Paulus was familiar with the work of Brustein and felt that the A.R.T. was her artistic destination when she read the mission: "to expand the boundaries of theatre." This, she said, was a mission behind which she could dedicate her career.

Peter DuBois comes to the Huntington Theatre by way of The Public Theatre in New York and the Perseverance Theatre in Juneau, Alaska. Although he's young, Mr. DuBois speaks as a relic of the old guard of artistic directors - the ones who, like Nicholas Martin, promulgated regional theatre into the for-profit Broadway model as opposed to community-based, grassroots organizations. Mr. DuBois' ideas on regional theatre revolve around finding corporate sponsors and developing new playwrights on the Cape where he can relax with his partner and dog. If I were a funder of Huntington Theatre, I would be weary of renewing my subscription/donation for the fear that Mr. DuBois will spend my money on his summer vacations or developing playwrights' work who already have commissions at other theatres. In a phrase, Mr. DuBois is a product of Reagonomic artistic leadership. In his presentation, he dropped names such as George C. Wolf and Paula Vogel. I would suspect, however, that neither of these artists nor their contemporaries will find a home at the Huntington Theatre under Mr. DuBois' leadership.

The entire discussion was tinted by Curt Columbus' assertion that he is interested in theatre engaging audiences as civic engagement as it was in ancient Greece. At Trinity Rep, they have instituted a talk-back after every performance which are led by community leaders as opposed to theatrical professionals. This has led, as one audience member relegated, to a deeper involvement with the art. Mr. Columbus recounted the view of one of his Russian mentors who said that "theatre is part church, part circus." He furthered this thought with his ideas that theatre is created from the moment the patron parks their cars until they leave the show. His idea is that theatre is an all-encompassing experience and should be viewed as more than just a cultural tete-a-tete. This was reflected in Peter DuBois' statement that in choosing a season, he doesn't think about the plays so much as he thinks about the experience for the audience.

One of the most well-received comments of the discussion was when Curt Columbus asserted that we currently have a ticket-selling model for regional theatre where the artistic product is merely viewed as a commodity as opposed to an educational/cultural contribution to society. Mr. DuBois supported this position by pointing out that the most exciting developments in theatre management for him have been season sponsorships (such as Time Warner's for Signature Theatre) which allows a theatre to price tickets at an affordable $10-$15. If Mr. DuBois is able to achieve this at the Huntington, he will be well worth his appointment and annual salary. Ms. Paulus, however, had little to say about fiscal management of her theatre - which maybe a result of her inexperience as an artistic director for regional theatre or the fact that her administrative staff will concern themselves with fundraising. If the latter is true, she will certainly be quick to learn the "strapping on the kneepads for the donors" as Curt Columbus so eloquently phrased it.

All in all, this proves to be one of the most exciting times in the Boston theatre scene in recent memory. The fact that the three new artistic leaders are two gay men and one woman, certainly points to the currents of change that are adrift across America. I find it more than coincidental that the Democratic national convention played "Let the Sun Shine In" as entrance music for Al Gore's speech while Diane Paulus' revival of Hair at the Public Theatre receives rave reviews and sell-outs. Perhaps, this is the dawning of a new Age of Aquarius?

NYC Part 3: In the Heights vs Passing Strange

So for weeks I’ve been mulling over my initial response to In the Heights, a show that I would describe as Disney-fied opportunism of race and culture with a shallow book and spectacle that gets lost in form sans content. This performance, as well as this season’s also TONY-nominated Passing Strange, raises more questions about the role of race and culture in the theatre than any other offering in recent memory. My feelings about In the Heights runs deep, and they run political. Not political in the concept of a political message, but in the lack thereof and, therefore, an expression of the status quo that allows a show such as this to win the TONY award for Best Musical against more politically relevant, more culturally challenging works. Alas, this is the history – and the politics – of the Broadway stage.
In 1958, two shows were nominated for the TONY award for best musical that have made a significant impact on the history of the American artform: The Music Man and West Side Story. It is shocking to think retrospectively that these two shows could even appear in the same Broadway season let alone the differences in the picture of America that the shows portray: the former a well-made musical comedy which waxes poetic about Norman Rockwellian Americana; the latter a musical tragedy that confronts the issue of race relations and gang warfare. The differences between the two shows, however, extend beyond mere content into the presentation of form. Meredith Wilson wrote a nostalgic play musicalized with the most American musical idiom, the march. Whereas, the classically trained Leonard Bernstein composed a cutting-edge score encompassing the Latin-American influence on popular music of the time. Apparently the TONY voters (like the electoral college vote of 2004) were not ready for change with The Music Man sweeping the vote.
Exactly 50 years later, we have witnessed a similar coup with In the Heights winning the TONY vote over Passing Strange. When I saw the latter, I was amazed that a show such as this even made it to Broadway. Essentially a one-man show, Passing Strange tells the trials of the artist Stew, who performed the role of narrator on Broadway. However, the show developed from a monologue into an ensemble piece with actors performing both as Stew’s younger self and all the artists and deviants with which he encountered on his world travels. What struck me most about this show, besides the excellent, bring-down-the-house score, was the ingenuity and risk devoid of most Broadway shows. With a cast of only six and an on-stage band playing amidst a vacant set, the show challenged every notion of the Broadway musical delivering a winning story and receiving a well-deserved standing ovation. What I love about Stew’s work is that he raises questions about the presentation of African-Americans in performance that I don’t believe most Americans are willing to accept. One of the first scenes, for example, presents Stew the younger and his mother having a conversation in the typical “Black” vernacular. Then, Stew the elder, interjects to clarify that he was raised in a suburb of L.A. and immediately the dialect is dropped. This, to any thinking patron of the arts, is a statement upon the minstrelsy inherent in popular Broadway theatre.
I mention minstrelsy, because I feel that is the most appropriate term for In the Heights. I can only describe this show as treacle along the lines of Wicked and Momma Mia. The show played to me like an after-school special with cardboard characters, a predictable plot, and a score that was both ballad-heavy and redundant. I believe Wicked lost the TONY to Avenue Q because the New York vote was tired of the status quo and ready for change. However, this year’s decision makes me believe that TONY voters were swayed by ghetto culture presented on-stage seeing dollar signs in capitalizing on culture.
But is this an unnecessarily pessimistic view? Certainly, the audience for In the Heights was the most diverse I have ever witnessed while attending the Broadway theatre. And by diverse, I mean truly diverse in terms of skin color. When I attended The Color Purple, for example, the audience was mostly black, which was a welcome change, but not the definition of diversity. Black, white, Latino, and everyone in between were at the Sunday matinee of In the Heights – the success of which is marked by the fact that the show has repealed all half-price tickets due to its popularity. And yet, as I shared in the story with the audience around me, I realized this work did not provide any challenge to status quo, any opportunity for discussion about the presentation of race, or any intelligent observation on culture and society. It merely presented a pretty combination of choreography inspired by contemporary street dance, a score inclusive of rap rhythms, and a cast peopled by Latino/as. My biggest disappointment was that this show, that brought so many ethnically diverse people together, was easy to walk away from. By this, I mean that it left no opportunity for discussion or debate. The flimsy plot was sewn up with a nice big (painted on) bow that gave you the same feeling as the conclusion of a Golden Girls episode. As my Pollyanna side asks, “Wasn’t it enough that all these different people were brought together for this performing event? Or that the Latin culture is finally recognized in a big-budget Broadway musical?” My political activist side answers, “No, because we all left and too easily went back to where we came from.” I feel that this opinion is mostly affected by my attendance of Passing Strange – a show that made me want to talk, that made me want to debate the performance of race on the American stage, that challenged me to think. It has been fifty years since The Music Man stole the TONY award from West Side Story, when will Broadway – and, thereby, America – be willing to change?

NYC Trip 2: Some Americans Abroad

I followed my matinee of Gypsy with a less-inspired revival of Richard Nelson's 1989 play Some Americans Abroad, a satirical comedy about American English professors touring with their students to England. The playwright, a former chair of the Yale playwriting program, most notably wrote the books for Chess and James Joyce's The Dead, the play Two Shakespearean Actors, as well as numerous adaptations including many of Chekov's finer works. As an original playwright, however, one wonders if he is simply too cerebral for the American theatre.


Second Stage who has produced the work has gained critical attention by populating the cast with Anthony Rapp and Tom Cavanaugh - two actors whose work is most memorable in Rent and television, respectively. Watching their cinematic performance of a work that lends itself to more virtuosic acting integrity is a bit like watching Keanu Reeves play Hamlet or Katie Holmes attempt Lady MacBeth. In a word, it is star-fucking. This is a practice we have come to associate with Broadway, but when it spreads to Off-Broadway, one can't help but contemplate the role of serious theatre in our over-commercialized and consumerist times.


Both Mr. Rapp and Mr. Cavanaugh deliver substandard performances against the supporting (more fully-trained, more theatrically inclined) deliveries of Corey Stoll and Enid Graham whose performances carry the only gravitas in an otherwise benign production. Their genuine theatricality help convey the story of a romantic tryst among two colleagues (one of them married) while the male counterpart is accused of molesting a student. This plot twist seems a forced device against the thematic satire of the pomposity of academia, the anglophilia of literature professors, and the scrutiny of fidelity and emotion within the cerebral world of "higher" education.


The evening I attended, a significant portion of the audience left at intermission which makes me wonder if it was the play or presentation. Certainly, we have all had experiences of a good play presented poorly, but "good" isn't the first word that springs to mind when contemplating Mr. Nelson's opus. Indeed, one of my fellow audience goers pondered aloud while exiting the theatre, "I just don't understand why that story needs to be told." As one who works and studies in academia, I found the presentation of the pomposity of scholars perfectly adroit. However, the minutiae of a scholarly discourse in the realm of theatre and, thereby, life outside the academy does nothing but highlight the futile quest for scholarly work. Unfortunately, Mr. Nelson's play maybe the perfect example of why those who can do, and those who can't teach.

NYC Trip 1

This weekend, I made one of my regular pilgrimage's to the Great White Way cramming in 3 shows in under 30 hours. I began with a show that can only be described as a religious experience for any self-described musical theatre zealot: Patti LuPone as Momma Rose. The publicity for the show says simply, "At Last..." which is the most apropos statement for her TONY-winning performance. Beyond Patti's brilliant performance, beyond the ten-minute standing ovation that followed "Rose's Turn," and beyond Laura Benanti's equally deserving TONY as Gypsy nee Louise, the show is a smart, innovative, and entirely original staging of a work that could be described as the quintessential backstage musical.

Directed by the book writer himself, Arthur Lawrence proves he is not too tired or too afraid to reimagine his work with a completely contemporary approach while maintaining the traditions and connotations associated with the classic. Using Jerome Robbins' original choreography, he scales back the production to a minimalistic, expressionistic, dare I say even Brechtian simplicity. The concept reflects Broadway's penchant of late for evocative rather than elaborate sets and earns its place among other reimagined revivals such as Sam Mendes' Cabaret and the long-running Chicago. There is not one moment or choice in the show that was not thoroughly thoughtful, deliberate, and inspired. In my opinion, it is the perfect Gypsy.

The show begins with the onstage orchestra striking those famous four chords under full stage lights - a verfremdungseffekt that this is a show about show business. As the overture comes to conclusion, a crumbling and decrepit proscenium and curtain descend onto the stage, a visual metaphor for the crumbling vaudeville circuit to which Momma Rose so aspires. When the children file on for the first scene at Uncle Jocko's all are dressed in sepia tones save Baby June whose bright blue babydoll dress and exaggerated make-up give her the demonic Whatever-Happened-to-Baby-Jane look. The idea is furthered in June's performance as an overworked, fed-up childhood star: actress Leigh Ann Larkin delivers her lines with a zombie-like monotone completely antithetical to Baby June's overly perky on-stage persona. The effect is not only comical, but haunting - a juxtaposition to the ultra-humanistic performances of the three above-the-title stars.

It is this very humanism that earned the three stars TONY awards this year. Patti's Momma Rose abandons the gruff, linebacker-for-my-dreams approach to which most actresses fall prey (for example, Bette Midler in that awful made-for-TV version). Instead, this Momma Rose is charming, smart before she is pushy, and a femme fatale who knows how to use her sex appeal to get her way. Laura Benanti's Louise is shy and awkward that allows the actress to deliver such a complete transformation during "The Strip" that you wonder if it is the same actress at all. However, her crystalline vocal acuity in delivering "Little Lamb" (a number which I have long hated) alone earned her the TONY in my book. I expected to be more impressed with Boyd Gaines' Herbie; however, his characterization definitely delivered choices that made me believe he truly loved Rose and that his role was more than a limp biscuit. What was truly remarkable about all three actors' performances was that I believed they were truly invested in each other and having a good time. There's something about seeing a group of professionals just have fun at their craft (even on the Broadway scale) that makes the experience worthy. The trio "Together Wherever We Go" stuck in my head for the first time not as a pariah of catchy song writing, but as a true expression of love and familial stick-togetheredness.

Not only do I think this is the perfect Gypsy, but I feel it is a thinking person's Gypsy. It's a presentation of the show that never panders to laughs, that strives for realism in the delivery of scenes when most directors insist on funnier/faster/more, that takes bold choices without apology. (Although, it is very funny especially with the inspired performance of "Gotta Get a Gimmick.") Most of all, it is a show about show business and about the fine performances of an incredible ensemble. Every aspect of this show was in place to support the performance as opposed to distract, amplify, or obfuscate the story as happens too often on Broadway (see my up-coming article on In the Heights). The most remarkable scene could be the finale when Rose is confronted by Gypsy Rose Lee - a scene that has been scrutinized as a Broadway Happy Ending as opposed to the truth of the actual story. Instead of reworking the book, Arthur Lawrence delivers an interpretation of the scene that conveys the fact that Gypsy never forgave her mother and the audience is left with the image of Rose clinging toward the dimming lights on her personal marquee as if to hold onto the dream. The hope and the desperation in this final image convey the plight that we all engage in when we are bitten by the bug of show business. This Gypsy is not only an homage to a life in the theatre, it is a religiously performative event for all of us who pine away for a role in the business called show.

The Tragedy that is The Tragedy of Carmen

Boston Midsummer Opera has taken a bold step in their first fully-staged production of the company's short three-year existence with Peter Brook's interpretation of the Bizet classic Carmen. An 80-minute, minimalistic production, The Tragedy of Carmen is presented with four singers and three actors thus essentializing the story and simplifying the opus to a comparable "highlights from..." recording. To opera fans, this is heretic. To theatre fans, this is cutting edge. Unfortunately for the Bostonians who spend upwards of $50 per ticket on this amateurish production, this is a waste of valuable time and money.


The main problem with BMO's Carmen is the lack of a director with the skill and story-telling ability of Peter Brook. BMO has earned a reputation of featuring young singers (primarily finalists in the National Council Auditions for the Met) in minimally staged productions, one could say staged-singings of operas. As enthusiastic as I am about nurturing new talent and removing the cultural stigmas associated with opera, it is hard for me to put my support behind this production mostly because it fails to bridge the opera/theatre divide the way the original production certainly intended and accomplished. Opera is an artform of the ear, while theatre appeals primarily to the visual. This production got lost somewhere in the middle.

Assessing the show theatrically, I would first praise the scenic designer, Jeremy Barnett, who created an interesting and serviceable unit set from wooden palettes and props. Although there were difficulties with the rake of the stage and limited entranceways, the overall effect created a Brechtian minimalism well-suited to the show. Likewise, there were some beautifully theatrical, i.e. symbolic moments such as the pouring of sand to represent a lover's trysting site, Carmen's dance with the tambourine before Don Jose, and Escamillo shaving in preparation for his ultimate battle in the bullring. What did not work theatrically was the acting. I am willing to forgive the melodramatic performances of the opera singers given the demands of their art; however, the three supporting actors were simply amateurish. Their role in the show was completely derided by the lack of direction and motivation in their moments on stage. I believe this was a case of an opera director not knowing how to cast & direct actors as opposed to casting singers.


Assessing the show operatically, the best moments of the production were when the singers were delivering arias simply facing out, which reaffirms my belief that a theatre director was needed for this particular production. Highlights include Don Jose's 11th hour number and Carmen's aria about the cards. What really brought the house down was Leslie Ann Bradley's depiction of Micaela. Her perfect diction and heavenly voice made her aria, "Je dis que rien" absolutely sublime planting a smile across my lip and a brava from my throat. This was one of those performances that made the price of my ticket worth while. True, Stephanie Chigas' Carmen exuded a wanton sexuality that is often lost on many accomplished singers' portrayals, yet her vocals need a god ten-years in training before truly conquering the role. Darren Anderson as Don Jose and Lee Gregory as Escamillo displayed virtuoso in their upper and lower registers, respectively, but gave otherwise mediocre performances - both vocally and theatrically. All three of the actors cast in the show were so misused and under-rehearsed, it is hardly worth mentioning.

I hope that Boston Midsummer Opera will continue in their mission to support young talent. However, I hope this mission can also extend to hiring young directors who understand the importance of theatricality as well as opera bravura. This production reaffirms my belief that it is easier to bring theatre artists into opera than it is to bring opera artists into theatre.

Assassins-nated

Let me preface by saying that Assassins is one of my all-time favorite cast recordings, yet I have never seen a production I like. A favorite of community theatres and colleges, this deceptively difficult Sondheimian masterwork is often assassinated by weak orchestras, poor singing, and/or talentless acting. Company One's production at the Boston Center for the Arts (BCA) is no exception. This production, however, makes me lament more than usual because I feel the cast has real, untapped, and undirected talent. Unfortunately, this talent nor the depth of the work is realized in this poorly directed and poorly designed production.

Let's begin with the design. Granted, the Virginia Wimberly Theatre at the BCA is probably the most ill-conceived theatre space in the complex: a flat 3/4 round with two iron I-beams in the middle of the stage. Rather than masking these deficiencies as has been done quite effectively (Funny Thing... Forum and This is Our Youth, memorably), this design - presumably intended to evoke a carnivalesque shooting gallery - does nothing to elevate the space. The direction also fails to rise to the occasion with blocking that either panders to the lowest common musical theatre denominator or simply falls prey to the obstacles of the space. A perfect example of this are boxes poorly painted to resemble wood-thatched packing crates that crowd the space and are used with little effect. Unfortunately, the music direction also seems to be lacking with the accompaniment struggling to keep up with the actors during the first few numbers of the show.

The moments of levity in the production are provided by the unharnessed talent of the cast which ranges from the sublime to the sub par. At the former end of the gamut are Jeff Mahoney whose performance as Charles Guiteau embodies the mania inherent in his Bible-thumping-turned-assassin character. Likewise, Ed Hoopman as Czolgosz delivers not only through his accomplished acting, but with a beautiful baritone to boot. Also worthy of mention are Blake Pfeil as the abdominally-challenged Giuseppe Zangara and Jonathon Popp as the tormented Lee Harvey Oswald. The rest of the cast are either strong in their acting or singing, but not strong enough in either to merit mention.

I am grateful to the director and sound designer for not using live gunshots in the production due to the close proximity the actors have to the audience. However, the use of canned gunshot effects certainly lessens the intensity for which this show is known. It leaves one to wonder, if you can't use a live gunshot in Assassins should you produce the show at all? A question Company One should consider in their future productions.

A New Fiscal Year, A New Blog

Every June 30th, non-profit theatre companies across the country are scrabbling to get their books in order, close outstanding debts, and finding creative ways of covering up the "Boardroom expenses" inherent in running a non-profit arts organization in this, our 21st Century. In a sense, July 1st represents the New Year for theatre companies - the time when the theatre goes dark as an homage to the passing season providing a solitary, if brief, respite before launching into a new season campaign. What better time to start a theatre blog than the end of FY 2008?

The purpose of this blog is to serve as a medium for an overly-opinionated theatre zealot to share his unedited observations and opinions. Much of what you read in this blog won't be pretty, but neither is the state of much theatre. Although, you will find this blogging mostly acerbic, often downright bitchy, understand that the words always flow from a place of love. I truly love the theatre. And like a Momma Rose of the oft-described "dying" artform, I feel it is my obligation to point out every flaw or, in the words of corporate consultants "opportunity" for theatre to do better by the art. In a phrase, this is my chance to scream at the theatre of America, "Sing Out Louise!"

So, let us begin with a brief eulogy to the season of 2008 in Boston. As it was my first year in Beantown, I was impressed, depressed, and overwhelmingly pressed for time to take in as much theatre as humanly possible. And I saw a lot of good things! Some of my favorite memories of the season include Arthur Nauzyciel's ground-breaking production of Julius Caesar at American Repertory Theatre. It was one of those truly brilliant theatrical moments where half the audience (certainly the ones who studied J.C. in High School and were hoping for togas and laurel wreaths) left at intermission while the rest of us theatresnobs and avant-seekers stayed to soak up every moment. I suppose I can agree with the Shakespearean purists who deemed it "Eurotrash," but this blogger loves Europe and trash. And who can resist a 57 Cadillac dangling from the fly rails over bright red carpeting?

Also exceptional this season was Lyric Stage of Boston's production of the Pulitzer-prize nominated play Dying City by Christopher Shinn. This heartbreaking drama by one of America's most promising young, realist dramatists was quite possibly one of the most underrated productions of the season. Not under- or over-rated was Speakeasy Stage's production of The History Boys. The strongest season closer (to an overwhelmingly soft season), this play sold out not only its run, but an extension for good cause.

Also passing this season is the artistic directorship of Nicky Martin, now former Artistic Director of the Huntington Theatre. As a newbie to the scene, I understand the great gifts Mr. Martin has brought to the Boston theatre scene; however, judging by this season, it is time to say bye-bye. The Huntington season was overwhelmingly mediocre including the made-for-Broadway, yet shipped-from-England Alfred Hitchcock's The 39 Steps. This was probably the most entertaining of Huntington shows, but displays the habit of regional theatres to play to the lowest common denominator, namely the dinner theatre crowd. This, too, was reflected in Mr. Martin's direction of She Loves Me which, though a popular success, left this theatresnob running for the vomitoriums at intermission.

Other passings this season include Gideon Lester, the interim artistic director at the American Repertory Theatre. I have to admit I'm biased based on the fact that Mr. Lester is HOT. However, I think he served the theatre well in its interim and we hope he sticks around Boston (and if he does, would someone, please, give him my number). Also, Boston Theatre Works closed their final curtain with Angels in America. Despite good reviews and full houses for this show, the theatre succumbed to financial difficulties which led the Globe to wane poetic on their work. However, based on their Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum and Angels..., this theatresnob had no tears left to shed. Good riddance and here's hoping someone with artistic leadership and progress steps into their vacancy.

After the bittersweet good-bye of 2008, it is now time to welcome a new Fiscal Year and a new era in the Boston theatre scene. With all of the changes in artistic leadership, I don't feel that I'm waxing too poetic to say we are entering a new era of theatre in Boston. At the forefront of our change are Artistic Directors Peter DuBois and Diane Paulus of the Huntington and American Repertory Theatres, respectively. Mr. DuBois comes to us from the Public Theatre where, word n the street has it, that he may not be the best director, but favors well with funders and Board members. Ms. Paulus comes from the opposite side of the gamut with many directorial successes, but no artistic leadership under her belt. It will be exciting to see how each of these leaders fare in their positions and one can't help but wonder will artistic or fiscal leadership win out?

Likewise, there are many exciting shows on the roster for Boston's theatre scene. Lyric Stage begins and ends its season with musicals that appeal to theatresnobs, but not their typical blue-collar, average audience. This theatresnob can't wait to see what they do to Sondheim's much maligned and overlooked Follies while rounding out the season with on of Broadway's most recent artistic (though not popular) successes, Grey Gardens. Likewise, Speakeasy has opted for the critically acclaimed, though not popular, Light in the Piazza for starters and serves the decadent Jerry Springer:The Opera for dessert. Having seen all of these shows in their Broadway or regional productions, I can't wait to see what Boston talent has to offer for these delectable shows.

It proves to be an interesting season of firsts in Boston and I will be there, my ticket in hand and playbill at the waistside to provide all I can to ensure that this art that is the theatre does not die before FY 2010. After all, it is all a space odyssey...