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?
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
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?
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?
Monday, August 4, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, August 1, 2008
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.
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.
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