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The Cost Of Creativity

26 Jul

The playwright Sarah Ruhl (In The Next Room) has written an essay about her choice to stage a review-less production. Ms. Ruhl will direct her work Melancholy Play as part of the 13P. It is a very limited run without previews or press invitations. This aligns with 13P’s mission of producing plays versus developing plays. The goal presumably is to get a play in front of an audience without interference. Ms. Ruhl elegantly defends this artistic process in her essay. And there would be no argument with any of her assertions if it wasn’t for the fact that the audience is being asked to purchase tickets. (I would also add that using the press to promote a play in which the press is not invited could be construed as a bit designing.)

Ms. Ruhl is using 13P to its best advantage and getting experimental with her own play. The addition of live music is adding costs, complications and creativity to one of her older works. Supposedly that is why she asserts; “It didn’t feel fair to me to burden the production team with the pressure of reviews when we were already embarking on something so insanely ambitious given our resources.” There are just a few too many flaws in that assertion to ignore:

  • Working in a vacuum is rarely a good idea; art needs air.
  • Directing one’s own work is a slippery little endeavor and unchecked can often become what is commonly known as a ‘private behavior’
  • Criticism is not the enemy
  • Reviews are for the benefit of an audience

Ms. Ruhl goes on to say that “…the press desires more bravery from artists and yet, in its very call for bravery, ends up eliciting timidity because of asrtists’ fear of public opinion.” This may very well be true for many artists (poets and visual artists come to mind.) But anyone who writes for the stage, directs for the stage or gets up on a stage is doing so for an audience (aka public opinion.) Plays don’t hang on gallery walls and actors don’t live on shelves. They come alive in front of an audience. Unlike a gallery or bookstore, there hasn’t been curation for 13P. In fact the very mission of 13P is to avoid the critiquing process that often stalls a play before it can get to production. Discouraging reviews, which in essence are post-production curation, and charging patrons is the equivalent of charging people to walk through studios of random artists. An audience wants to be moved, they want to see something anew, they want to feel as if they are part of the experience not just paying for someone’s hobby.

In the end a review wouldn’t have impacted an 11 performance run of a play in any discernible way. I dare say it is not the production that is being protected here but the reputation of the creative team. Nobody likes being told that what’s important to them is not important to someone else. But real art cannot grow if artists are concerned with being liked. I agree with Ms. Ruhl that there needs to be room to try new things with limited risk. If we are to have any chance of avoiding a world in which the majority of staged productions are the result of a book-to-film-to-stage deal we need to make space for creativity. But surely we are creative enough to do so without asking strangers to blindly support the development of new work. We have workshops, showcases, readings and friends for this reason.

 
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Posted by on July 26, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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Macbeth – Review

09 Jul

When a mind is lost where does it go? If you are Alan Cumming at Lincoln Center you venture into the world of William Shakespeare’s Macbeth; not the man, the play. In this ostensibly one-man play Mr. Cumming plays all the most vivid and recognizable parts while a patient in an institution. He descends into custody after a criminal event. The play opens to the stirring pantomime of him being undressed by attendants (Ali Craig and Myra McFadyen.) Evidence is collected, gently and cooly from; beneath his nails, inside his wounds and mouth. He is allowed to hold onto one evidence bag. A bag we assume holds the emotional evidence of the crime. The attendants climb the stairs and reach for the door as the first audible lines are spoken; “When shall we three meet again.”

So begins the tour de force that is this Macbeth production from the National Theatre of Scotland. It is a Herculean undertaking this play within a play. To convincingly construe a device to deliver a one-man Macbeth is no easy feat. Directed by John Tiffany and Andrew Goldberg this stunning production hits the mark with only one or two relatively small hiccups. The creative alchemy of the; storyline, set (Merle Hensel,) sound (Fergus O’Hare,) image (Ian William Galloway,) characterization and staging work to keep the audience mesmerized. Without the excellent staging or performance it would be impossible to follow this play. Mr. Cumming easily transforms himself into (at times dueling) characters. He often achieves this with only his body and voice although there is a prop or two also engaged. We are helped to follow these transitions with real time projections.

What is most remarkable about this Macbeth is not Macbeth. It is a tale, told through Macbeth of a man’s descent into insanity. Clever devices such as the attendants appearing to periodically anesthetize Cumming, or the closed circuit cameras (producing the projections) in his locked ward remind us of what we’re watching. We are forced outside of Macbeth at the appearance of the Lady’s bloody hands. The lady’s hallucination becomes the patient’s hallucination becomes stigmata as the attendants look fruitlessly for a source for the blood. We are reminded of the ill man on display during more than one emotional collapse. A heart wrenching yet contained Cumming dissolves and curls into himself. One of these devolutions has an attendant carrying him to the bed. This event can only be called a pas des deux. There is much beautiful movement (Christine Devaney) in this production, but it is this particular dance that clutches the heart.

It can be seductive to forget that we are not watching a Macbeth, but a man who is lost in the world of Macbeth. Cumming’s portrayal of all the characters is so convincing (and at times very funny.) He manages to capture the sexual chemistry between husband and wife with nothing more than his own body. Toward the end of the play we discover the content of his evidence bag. Our imaginations easily construe countless plausible explanations for this man’s psychiatric demise. It is not clear he will ever recover. The last words spoken are; “When shall we three meet again” suggesting we are inside the endless loop that is his mind.

 
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Posted by on July 9, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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Storefront Church – Review

21 May

The Atlantic Theatre has had a recent facelift.  And like a lot of us small unassuming people when having 8.5 million dollars at one’s disposal, they have rendered themselves unrecognizable.  There is a lobby now, and a box office, and that odd musty smell is gone, and that’s nice.  But the house now looks like every other house.  Gone are the oddly pitched bleacher seats, the modest stage and what made the space so unique; the public restroom in the wings.  The stage is now massive, there’s a fly (or perhaps two) and the seats are brand new and set somewhat below the apron.  It looks shiny and new, but it’s lacking in character.

Aptly, the new space is being christened with Storefront Church.  Written and directed by John Patrick Shanley’s, Storefront Church is the final installment in his “church and state” trilogy.  (The first two were Doubt and Defiance.)  Storefront Church would not be recognizable as part of this trilogy, except we are told that it is.  Doubt, about the Catholic Church, and Defiance about the military (both directed by Doug Hughes) were tightly told tales of imposing institutions.  It’s difficult to put the same dramatic significance upon banking.

The story is about faith and the mortgage business.  (That’s “AND” not “IN”) and is as creaky as it sounds.  Issuing a second mortgage to a poor risk doesn’t seem to have the same resonance as that of child molestation or the moralistic labyrinth of the military.  If we are to extrapolate the insidious racism at work in the refinance industry, why is the recipient of the second mortgage married to a white Jewish man?  That may be just too “riddle wrapped in an enigma” for me. The first act is at times a demonstration of the new technical toys at the theatre’s disposable.  The stage crew seemed to be on stage as much as the cast.  (Doubt and Defiance were simply staged powerful pieces.)  There are so many scene changes in the first act that whatever power was there, was part of what got swept up by the crew (I’m not kidding, they come out and sweep the stage while we watch.)  There are (massive) set changes twice, to stage soulful staring on a bench.  A song plays for each of these stareathons.  “Snow” falls for one of them, which may provide a nice wink for The Hunchback of Notre Dame riff, but is distracting as it keeps accidentally falling throughout the play.  (That’s not a technical problem, fake snow always does that.)  The Hunchback reference is interesting but is a bit belabored.  When the play opens on a bug-eyed droopy-lipped Reed Van Druyten (the stunning Zach Grenier) and Ethan Goldklang (the powerful Bob Dishy) is holding the book and talking about it; we get it.  There is one reference in Act II that should stay because it’s funny, but the others?  Well that’s why you shouldn’t necessarily direct your own new work.

Another director might not bring out the beauty that Mr Shanley does in his actors, but he might have also had a little heart-to-heart with the playwright.  The theme of the play is far too vague to burden it with superfluous scenes and lumbering set changes.  This becomes even clearer during Act II.  There are only two scenes and they are perfectly written.  They are clear, powerful, engaging and terribly moving.

The cast includes Tonya Pinkins who (much to the audience’s delight) sings a spiritual.  That voice!  Her role is not large, but she is absolutely delightful.  Giancarlo Esposito (Donaldo) and Ron Cephas Jones (Chester) are incredibly convincing as the Bronx Borough President and Pastor.  Their (lengthy) scene in the first act is clunky and far too esoteric, but they do a splendid job with it.  The wonderfully smarmy Jordan Lage (Tom) rounds out the cast.  You know Tom, you’ve worked with Tom, you want to hurt Tom.

Storefront Church is in previews and will be open June 11 – June 24.  If Act I can more resemble Act II this will be a stunning play.  As it is now, it should be seen for the performances.  It is rare to see a collection of seasoned actors like this in such an intimate space.

 
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Posted by on May 21, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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Peter And The Starcatcher – Review

18 May

Peter and the Starcatcher is the most innovative, rollicking, sophisticated, silly, magnificent new show to come along in a very long time.  A musical derivation of Peter Pan, this show simply soars.  This is not a musical in the traditional sense.  At most there are four songs, or songletttes.  However, it is the best orchestrated show you may ever see.  Musical punctuation is used at every turn and to great effect.

Before the house lights dim, the audience is tipped off to the treat in store.  The proscenium arch of the Brooks Atkinson Theatre is subtly, yet garishly festooned for the show.  Subtle, because the festooning is styled to blend into the theatre’s decor.  Garish, well because it is.  There are two musicians positioned in the boxes (left and right.) They are surrounded by percussion instruments of every variety (on the right) and keyboard, woodwind and magic soundboard (on the left.)  Yes, there are only two musicians, but they are live and in full view!  The other technical anomaly in play is the extremely judicious use of amplification. It is initially jarring, but the audience can in fact identify who is speaking by following the sound emanating from an actor’s mouth.

The play, by Rick Elice, is smart and funny and simply pun-tastic.  The dialogue is rapid paced and plentiful.  And smart.  Directed by Roger Rees and Alex Timbers, with movement by Steven Hoggett, the wonderful cast is in essence a dance ensemble.  The choreography of the show is simply staggering.  There are no dance numbers.  (A kick line performed by a shabby group of men dressed as mermaids, doesn’t count does it?)  The movement in this show creates a magical world.  Often with little more than a piece of string, artistic lighting (Jeff Croiter) and sound (Wayne Barker,) ideas become realized.  Look it’s a ship, it’s a mirror, it’s a cabin, it’s a crocodile.

Despite it’s brilliance in design, this show would falter without a first-rate cast.  The show teeters between slapstick and sincerity (in the best of ways) and in lesser hands, we would not see the extremes or worse, we would only see one extreme.  This cast works as a seasoned ensemble.  In a show as physical as this, a less unified cast could result in some injuries.  While without this ensemble, there might not be this show; there are two actors who must be singled out.  Celia Keenan-Bolger, who tore up the stage in City Center Encores! Merrily We Roll Along, is the glue that is Molly.  Playing a 13-year-old bright feminist child with a good sense of humor (think Hermione Granger with a playful side) Ms. Keenan-Bolger has us in the palm of her diminutive hand.  She stands her own even against the over-the-top (in the best of ways) Christian Borle as Black Stache.  Mr. Borle’s performance can best be described by picturing a reality in which Ray Bolger and a young Tim Curry could create a biological child together.  There are several extraordinary performances in this cast, but the roles of Molly and Black Stache are large and demanding and are served wonderfully by Mr. Borle and Ms. Keenan-Bolger.

This production is not cheap.  It takes money to make something look plausibly shabby.  But it is not excessive or lavish.  There are no hydraulics or pulleys, yet there is plenty of flying.  It takes buckets of creativity to do more with less than it does to throw money at things.  Until I saw this show, it did not occur to me that you could simulate a bird flying away with four rubber gloves.  I never would have imagined that simple pennants, presumably made of discarded bed sheets, could become a crocodile.  There are dozens of these tiny moments that came from enormous amounts of creativity.  These miniature moments, collectively add up to a Faberge Egg of theatre.  While this is not a children’s show per se, seeing it would be a gift to any child.  In a world where so much is made of so little, to see what little can be made with so much is a gift.

 
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Posted by on May 18, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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Clybourne Park – Review

17 May

The power of Clybourne Park is not immediately evident, but instead it creeps up and takes hold; a stranglehold.  The construct of the play seems so simple, almost a graduate thesis on: Raisin In The Sun Ever After?  Written by Bruce Norris, the first Act takes place “apres Raisin” in 1959 and the second Act is in 2009.  Seven actors play the act’s different roles (or are they different?)  The second Act characters are often shadows of the 1959 characters.

The story (in 1959) is that Bev (Christina Kirk) and Russ (Frank Wood) are preparing to move from their Clybourne Park home.  Their housekeeper Francine (Crystal A. Dickinson) and her husband Albert (Damon Gupton) lend a helping hand.  Ms. Dickinson and Mr. Gupton’s posture and demeanor portray more about the life of African Americans in 1959 than any narrative.  They are simply magical.  Soon Karl (Jeremy Shamos) and his wife Betsy (Annie Parisse) show up to confront Bev and Russ.  It seems the house has been sold to a Negro family (unbeknownst to the owners.)  Tensions are high and things get a bit ugly.  It is uncovered that the owner’s son killed himself upstairs (this is seen as a real estate set-back for some reason.)  Karl threatens to spill the beans to the new owners.  The minister (Brendan Griffin) makes the ensemble less coupled.

The second Act curtain rises to the sight of the set ransacked, abused, neglected and abandoned.  Graffiti scrawls the (once updated) wallpaper.  Empty beer bottles, trash, and a baseball bat are the only decor.  A neighborhood meeting is taking place to review the architectural plans for a new house in the place of the crumbling one before us.  It is 2009 and the concerns over racial infiltration have been turned upside down.  The African American couple is (somewhat) challenging the plans of the white couple and everyone has a lawyer.  There are tremendously powerful (and often funny) moments, as Mr. Shamos’ Steve gets more and more defensive.  Personal narratives unfold and we discover the modern characters connections to the neighborhood and each other (perhaps too tidily.)  There is a lovely synchronicity at times.  The day of the week in Act I is the same as Act II.  There are several other references that make things feel solid.  A great takeaway moment is the reversal of outrage (between acts) when one male character touches another male character.  It is a bit confusing to see the new owners (of a house they’re going to raze) become distraught with the news of a suicide occurring upstairs (fifty years ago.)  We expect to discover a horrific incident in the new owner’s past.  But no.  Just the idea that someone once killed themselves in the same latitude and longitude that their media room will inhabit is enough to send them around the bend.

At times, Pam MacKinnon’s direction is slightly halting and a bit overwrought.  Nowhere is this more apparent than in the roles played by Christina Kirk.  Her characterization of Bev in the first Act brought to mind Corky Sherwood (Murphy Brown) in her flailing mannerisms and extreme annunciations.  This was no doubt intentional and brought a point home that was lost on me.  Ms. Kirk is brilliantly delicate in her moments with Betsy (Annie Parisse.)  Ms. Parisse is unrecognizable as a (deaf) neighbor great with child.  Speaking (convincingly) as a woman deaf since birth (and being thoroughly ignored) she creates a telling vignette of her own upstage with Ms. Kirk.  (It is mildly disconcerting to have this plot device alongside Ms. Kirk and her real, if slight, speech impediment.  It’s distracting trying to determine if there’s intention behind the casting.)  Jeremy Shamos certainly has a great role and knows exactly what to do with it.  He is simply wonderful.

Clybourne Park is the story of power; who has it, who’s losing it and who desperately needs it.  Race is part of that story.  These are large issues Mr. Norris is discussing.  Their power transcends the sometimes awkward delivery system in play.  What is magnificent is how the characters (in both acts) speak and interact with each other. The dialogue is jammed packed and often tumbling out and over in competing conversations.  There are painfully accurate vignettes (some involving capitals of countries) that demonstrate just how myopic we really can be, and tragically, how we probably always will be.

 
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Posted by on May 17, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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