Tuesday, November 03, 2015

Writing Challenge - Something Illegal


Writing Challenge

Write something that would be illegal to do to an audience. Bonus if it’s something that is morally right but legally wrong. Don’t let it be boring, this isn’t a law class- don’t get into the weeds. Keep it human. Keep the play going longer than you’d planned. Deal with the consequences.

SEX WITH THE AUDIENCE, by Matthew A. Everett

The problem is, the more I thought this particular notion through, the more I realized I couldn’t script it.  Not like a traditional play.  I found I didn’t want to make the audience feel they were in peril, by pointing a gun at them or verbally abusing them or shouting “Fire!” in a crowded theater.  I also didn’t want to dull their senses by altering their consciousness with drugs or alcohol.  Theater for me is more about bringing people together for a common human experience they don’t get in their daily lives.  So if I was going to transgress the law in any way, I’d want it to be in service of greater intimacy.

When my plays have been performed in the past, guys whose characters were meant to be intimate with each other onstage, often simply kissing, had to work hard to allow themselves to let go of their basic heteronormative programming.  One of the nice side effects of a production like that is the guys were much more physically comfortable and affectionate with one another off-stage.  They were much more relaxed and comfortable in their skin.  I guess I just wanted to push that further – both with performers, and by extension the audience.

They say that a flaccid penis on stage is art, but an erect penis is pornography.  The shame around the human body and sexuality is kind of ridiculous, and the source of all kinds of unnecessary tension and heartache.  One of the best shows I’ve seen in recent years was an intimate little show, a scrappy theater company taking over an abandoned building and presenting the human body, and human intimacy in an inviting, non-threatening, almost fun way – rather than anything serious or clinical.  It was reveling in human connection between the performers, in all levels of dress and undress.

This concept would seek to extend that intimacy between performers and audience further.  Ideally it would be in a small, arena style space, with the audience on all sides, able to see each other as well as the performers.  There would be two classes of the audience – those who wanted to simply watch, and those who might want to participate.  Watchers basically remain in their seats and nothing more is required of them than a little civility and the price of admission.

The performers would essentially be improvising around a common set of actions.  The ideal cast would be a rotating stable of men and women – straight, bi and gay – of all shapes, sizes, races, ages and physical abilities.  We’re not casting a porno here where everyone looks like an underwear model.  The cast reflects the makeup of the audience.  The cast would be interviewed about preferences in terms of both their fellow castmates and types of audience participants.  An equal opportunity performance, if you will.  It’s not prostitution, though technically these people would be having sex for money.  No one’s forced to perform sex acts with anyone they don’t want to.  And if there’s a situation that looks like it’s getting out of hand, there will be security on hand.

But let’s say everything’s healthy and consensual and no one needs to be escorted out.  How does the audience that wants to potentially participate get included?  First, everyone on both sides of the equation is going to have to be tested for STDs.  All the necessary precautions are going to be taken – condoms, IUDs, the pill.  I imagine the release form for something like this would be ridiculous but set that aside for a moment.  Just like the cast, the audience would make its preferences known in a pre-performance questionnaire, at the time of ticket purchase, long before the show.  No “day of” tickets for sexual audience members.

So the theater has to coordinate, based on the audience they know they’re going to have, which performers are going to match up with the widest array of the audience preferences.  My feeling is that you’d want to make sure that all the potential sexual audience members would be notified ahead of time if they were going to be called upon to join the action.  And of course, in the moment, they can feel free to decline.  There would be backups and alternates.

The most obvious backup would be the performers simply engaging in sex with one another.  And in fact, they’d probably lead off with this each performance, in order to set the audience of all types at ease.  So everyone knows what they’re getting into.

But the idea is to connect.  It’s not just sex acts, but intimacy.  Full penetrative sex may even be a rare occurrence.  There’s all kind of ways to enjoy the human body and give another person pleasure.  And they can be as clothed, or not, as they prefer, and as visible or shielded, from the audience as they prefer.  At all times, someone’s going to be in full view.  And at all times, there’s going to be a variety of sexuality on display.  It shouldn’t just be for straight people or for gay people.  People should be (you’ll pardon the expression) exposed to things they haven’t seen before and might themselves never do.

(I’d been thinking in terms of a largely “vanilla” repertoire, but you could also repurpose the template for people who are into leather or bondage or whatever other things aren’t even crossing my mind right now.  The point, however, is always consent, and mutual pleasure – so animals and children are out, for instance.  I can’t believe I just had to make myself type that as a clarification.  Also, we’re not endorsing proven risky behavior so no barebacking.  Again, I can’t believe I just had to make myself type that, but you can take this idea and twist or push it to all kinds of extremes I personally wouldn’t endorse because that’s not what I’m after.)

I want this to be a celebration of shared intimacy between people.  Now, of course, I can imagine this all going horribly wrong in any number of ways – pregnancy, stalking, you name it.  Let’s hope that by setting the right atmosphere, the right sense of community, we attract the right performers and the right audience and the idea accomplishes its goal, which makes sexual relations a healthier thing in general.  To get the performance rolling before the sex gets started, maybe people tell jokes, maybe people sing songs, maybe people dance together.  Anything to break the ice.  Maybe the performers and the audience need to take themselves on a collective date before they expect anybody to put out.

It’s going to take a pretty special performer to sign on for something like this and execute it without crossing lines, or encouraging and allowing others to cross them.  The rehearsal process is probably a lot of talking and a lot of shared boundary dismantling between people.  If the ensemble can break down those barriers among themselves, they’ll be better able to set the audience at ease.

Anything I’d script in this regard would just be hokey.  The actors will just have to engage each other and the audience in the moment, after a rehearsal process in which they work through all the possible scenarios they can think of, good and bad, on how things might go.  After a couple of preview performances, a lot of real world adjustments would no doubt need to be made.  An actual audience in the mix always teaches the producers and performers the many things they hadn’t anticipated in the closed world of the rehearsal room.

Thursday, October 15, 2015

Review - Doctor Faustus/The Tempest - Classical Actors Ensemble - Mix and Match Men Wrestling With Demons

I’ve been going back and forth trying to make excuses for Classical Actors Ensemble’s latest offering of two plays in repertory - Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus, and William Shakespeare’s The Tempest - and I just need to stop or I’ll never get this review posted.  There are a lot of things that work really well in both plays.  And if I’m honest, there are also a lot of things that don’t.

“Talk of the Devil, nothing else.”

The interesting thing is that they’ve got two marquee names this time out.  Though Marlowe’s version of the Faust legend may not be widely known or performed, the basic story of the man who sells his soul to the devil in exchange for a better life is fairly common knowledge.  And The Tempest is, quite deservedly, one of Shakespeare’s more well-regarded and oft-produced plays.  So Classical Actors Ensemble doesn’t have the usual hard sell to make with half of its double feature, with people asking “What’s that other one about?”  The symbiosis between the two productions here strikes an odd balance - in Doctor Faustus, we’ve got a strong lead performance in a more problematic script; in The Tempest, we’ve got a strong script where the lead actor is struggling.

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

Michael Ooms is the main reason to see Doctor Faustus, as directed by CAE Artistic Director Joseph Papke.  The character of Faustus has to hold the stage, often on his own, for a large stretch of the story.  In lesser hands, the role would be less compelling to watch.  Ooms acts the heck out of this thing.  He’s also got able support from the two right-hand men of the tale - Lucifer’s assistant Mephistopheles (Art Moss, with a delightfully menacing Southern accent) and Faustus’ own valet Wagner (Joe Wiener), who also serves the role of chorus and narrator for the story.  Wiener is the perfect choice for all the verbal heavy lifting that frames the play.  If there are things the play doesn’t let you do onstage, you want an actor with Wiener’s chops to describe it for you - he can get the full impact from any words you care to give him.

“I would weep but the Devil draws in my tears.”

The weird thing about Doctor Faustus is what Faustus ends up selling his soul for.  Ostensibly, the man has crammed his brain with the sum total of human knowledge - science, law, religion, medicine, you name it.  It’s his longing to know things humans cannot (or should not) know, to do things that humans cannot (or should not) do, that drives him to make this deal.  He gets two dozen years of Mephistopheles serving has his lackey and partner in crime in exchange for his eternal damnation when the bill comes due.  But then what does he do with it?

“You shall see all the Seven Deadly Sins in their proper shape.”

The challenge, of course, is to take so cerebral a longing and turn it into something theatrical that you can perform onstage.  This unfortunately makes Faustus out to be a merry prankster - he lifts the pope’s robes, he travels to distant lands in the blink of an eye, he gets a woman grapes out of season, he makes a guy who ticks him off sprout horns from his head, he conjures the spirit of Alexander the Great as a party trick to delight an emperor, he summons Helen of Troy so he can make out with her.  We don’t witness a lot of the expansion of his mind.

“The stars move still.  The clock will strike.  The Devil will come.”

Also, the stakes are a little hard to fathom for a modern audience.  Since we don’t get to see hell, or any of Faustus’ eternal suffering, it’s difficult for an audience to wrap their head around the notion of an unpleasant afterlife.  Sure, the idea of what happens to Faustus, given the description of the remains of his body that they find scattered around the house, doesn’t sound pleasant, but it seems like “Well, horrible way to die, but it’s over now.”  Except, Faustus’ suffering is only beginning.  He’s in for an eternity of torment, and that’s not something that’s manifested onstage.  Now, it’s also not in the play, so you can’t blame the production for that.  And death is always a pretty horrible price to pay - but in this case it’s only the downpayment.

“Where is mercy now?”

Does a largely secular society just not have a way to invest in the consequences of a Faustian bargain, so it doesn’t have the same cautionary weight that it did in Marlowe’s day?  Sure, we get a parade of the Seven Deadly Sins, but do we get a feel in the play for the toll that excess takes on a person?  Or, like Faustus, does it all seem like fun in the moment, and then he gets dragged off to hell, and we shrug and say, oh well, too bad for him, back to our lives?  For some reason, the catharsis isn’t landing with the impact you think it should (and this is coming from a reviewer who actually does have a religious background and longs to see intelligently rendered stories of this type on stage.  I should be the perfect audience for Doctor Faustus, but despite some strong performances, the play didn’t grab me.)

“You bawling, blasphemous, uncharitable dog!”

Then there’s The Tempest.  Director Daniel Ian Joeck has the gift of one of Shakespeare’s best stories here.  There’s magic and romance and revenge and redemption and reconciliation.  It’s a great mix and all the subplots, even Shakespeare’s friggin’ clowns (which tend to grate on my nerves), are all woven together in one big sprawling entertaining adventure.  The play also has some of the playwright’s very best poetry.  Shakespeare was operating at the top of his game in The Tempest.

“I will supplant some of your teeth.”

Prospero (George Muschamp), the former Duke of Milan, was chased into exile with his infant daughter when his power-hungry brother Antonio (Robb Krueger) took over his dukedom.  Landing on a secluded island, Prospero raises his daughter Miranda (Marika Proctor) to be a lovely young woman, while also sharpening his magical powers, fed by the knowledge in his beloved books.  He enlists the unruly natives of the island like the deformed Caliban (Joe Wiener) and spirits like Ariel (played by the trio of Neal Beckman, Morgan LeClaire, and Marci Lucht) to serve his needs, so everything is going quite well (unless you’re Caliban or Ariel, of course).

“Good wombs have born bad sons.”

Then fate brings Prospero’s brother Antonio near the island, on a ship returning from the foreign wedding for the daughter of Alonso, King of Naples (Randall J. Funk).  Prospero uses his magic to conjure a storm that splits up the wedding party and shipwrecks them on different parts of the island, but without a scratch on them.  Even the ship itself remains perfectly intact, and the crew, including the Boatswain (Michael Renner) and the Mariner (Samantha Veldhouse), are resting peacefully for a while on the other end of the island.

“What seest thou else in the dark backward and abysm of time?”

Antonio gets washed up along with the King, the king’s brother Sebastian (Michael Ooms), and the king’s trusted but overly enthusiastic counselor Gonzalo (Art Moss).  Knowing a thing or two about usurping power from one’s brother, Antonio advises Sebastian that if he kills his brother, then he could be king. Yikes.

“The third man that e’er I saw, the first that e’er I sighed for.”

Meanwhile, on another part of the island, the king’s son, prince Ferdinand (Rick Miller), fears he’s the only survivor of the shipwreck (just as everyone else thinks he must be dead).  The loss of his family is brightened by meeting young Miranda, who is equally charmed by him.  Prospero, among other things, needs to monitor their courtship so young love doesn’t get too out of hand. 

“Thou shalt be my lieutenant monster.”

Ariel helps Prospero keep an eye on all parties involved in the different corners of the island, and it turns out Prospero needs eyes in many places. Because Caliban has found another couple of shipwrecked buffoons, the king’s fool Trinculo (Ethan Bjelland) and the king’s butler Stephano (Nicholas Nelson). A fine trio of drunkards, they plot to kill Prospero and take over the island for themselves, so it’s a good thing they’re so hilariously inept at executing their plan.

“Milan and Naples have more widows in them of this business’ making than we bring men to comfort them.”

Prospero and the hardworking Ariel, who’s been promised their freedom for a job well done, bring everyone together when the time is right and see that all scores get settled.

“I and my fellows are ministers of Fate.”

A series of random things work really well in this production of The Tempest.  The manifestation of Ariel onstage is probably the best hybrid use of masks and puppetry across the two productions (more on that concept in a moment).  The three actors voicing Ariel, all clad in their own willowy pastel outfits, take an animal skull mask and keep it hovering over a billowing expanse of fabric that sprouts arms which can be either beautiful or menacing, depending on the task Ariel has at hand.  The rules of how and where Ariel pops up get a little fuzzy sometimes, but when Ariel’s going full out, it’s quite a sight.

“Your charm so strongly works 'em that if you now beheld them, your affections would become tender.”
“Dost thou think so, spirit?”
“Mine would, sir, were I human.”


One new common design element (for CAE) incorporated in both plays is the use of puppets and masks, both designed by Chava Curland.  The elements themselves are captivating, but the mask work seems better integrated here than the puppets (the one notable exception being the mask/puppet hybrid of Ariel in The Tempest).  The masks make for a good inhuman indicator - whether they be for the Seven Deadly Sins and other supernatural creatures of Faustus, or Caliban in The Tempest.  The puppets are more problematic.  In Faustus, their big moment is the good and bad angels hovering around Faustus trying to guide his behavior.  Given that Ooms is taller than your average human, and the puppets are smaller, it gave off the (I expect unintended) vibe of a children’s show for a moment.  Ooms is very committed to the concept so it almost works. 

“It seldom visits sorrow, and when it does it is a comfort.”

The use of puppets in The Tempest is a headscratcher.  When Prospero is rolling out the backstory for his daughter Miranda, he starts picking up puppets to represent the various characters in his story.  But at the same time, the audience is watching the actors playing those roles appear, so we’re already getting a dumbshow to reinforce the names of the characters and help us follow along.  Not sure why the puppets are necessary on top of that.  Then later when those same characters are making their way around the island, they are carrying their puppet doppelgangers with them and having them converse.  There’s no payoff ultimately at the end of the show, the use of puppets just stops partway in.

“All corners else of the world let liberty make use of.  Space enough have I in such a prison.”

However, on the plus side in The Tempest in addition to Ariel, Marika Proctor and Rick Miller as young lovers Miranda and Ferdinand are delightful.  You believe they’re really smitten with one another, they’re very cute together (and I’m not just saying that because Miller spends an entire scene with his shirt off, although, shallow as it may be to admit, God bless actors with gym memberships).

“Full fathom five thy father lies.”

And even though I have a problem with the repeated insertion of song breaks in The Tempest slowing down its momentum (which it struggles with quite a bit anyway), I have to confess that the ensemble’s onstage rendition of “Sea of Love” was wonderfully charming - in large part because it wasn’t just a song break, there was something going on.  When one of the singing spirit characters flirts playfully with one of the sailor musicians, his bumbling response with fingers ever so slightly stumbling over his stringed instrument was adorable.  The production as a whole could have used more genuine human moments like that.

“Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.”

Because, as you’ll note, the things that worked for me about The Tempest were supporting players and bits around the edges.  The challenge with The Tempest is that if you don’t find yourself a compelling actor to play the role of Prospero, the thing’s not going to work.  That’s the main stumbling block here.  I’m sure George Muschamp is trying his level best here to deliver.  It’s a great role for any actor, and a rare good role for an older actor.  It may be a role Muschamp grows into over the course of the run.  But opening night there was a struggle with lines.  And if you don’t have the lines down, you can’t live inside them and be the character, you’re simply reciting.  There aren’t any levels.  There isn’t any nuance.  It also makes you a hard person to share a scene with and do your best work.  It’s hard to know how much of this is the actor and how much is the director, too.  It’s a shared load.  But with a cast this size, the director’s already got his hands full.  They can’t give just one actor all their attention, even if that might help.

“I will kiss thy foot.  Prithee, be my god.”

And under the best of circumstances, even the most enjoyable Shakespeare play is still a heavy lift for actors and director alike.  My theatergoing companion said when it was over, “Well, that was a real test of endurance.”  To which I instinctively responded, “For them or for us?”  He meant the cast.  But should a play with this much going on, this many interesting characters and interwoven plots, and lines like “We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep” feel like it was work to sit through?  Still, it’s The Tempest.  So if you can shut off your theater critic brain and just let the words wash over you, it’s got some lovely stuff going on in the text.  (Sadly, because I’m writing this, someone asked me to turn my theater critic brain on, and the darn thing’s pretty insistent once you set it loose.)

2-1/2 stars - Not Bad, Still Needs Some Work

(Photo: Michael Ooms as Doctor Faustus, photography by Anya Magnuson)

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Review - A Lie of the Mind - Theatre Pro Rata - The American Family: Raw

Theatre Pro Rata has found itself another perfect match in Sam Shepard’s play A Lie of the Mind.  This latest production under the direction of company artistic director Carin Bratlie Wethern is an example of what they do best - find a meaty, perhaps difficult, definitely challenging script, and dig into it until it gives up all its secrets.  The Pro Rata crew gets the story up on its feet in a sleek, economical package of design and performance, and shares with the audience all the reasons they should love the story just as much as the artists on stage do.

“So you're gonna travel to Montana in your underpants with an American flag wrapped around your neck.”

If it weren’t Pro Rata and Sam Shepard, I’d find A Lie of the Mind a hard sell as a place I would willingly go to spend time.  The story is launched in the wake of a domestic assault so violent that Jake (Nate Cheeseman) has left his wife Beth (Amy Pirkl) for dead.  (Nothing says entertainment quite like spousal abuse, am I right?)  Beth is very much alive however, if perhaps slightly brain-damaged.  Unaware of each other’s fate, the two halves of this unhappy marriage retreat to the comfort of their respective families - although the terms comfort and family are both open to debate here.  Beth and Jake’s dysfunctional marriage definitely has its roots in the homes from which they came.

“Please don’t yell in this house.  The walls can’t take it.”

Jake’s brother Frankie (Gabriel Murphy) gets Jake reluctantly reunited with their brash mother Lorraine (Kit Bix) and long-suffering sister Sally (Joy Dolo).  Frankie then heads off to see if Beth is really dead or Jake is just overreacting.  Beth’s brother Mike (Bear Brummel) gets her through the worst of her medical troubles at the hospital and takes her home to father Baylor (Don Maloney) and mother Meg (Delta Rae Giordano) to hopefully make a more complete recovery.  When Frankie shows up on their doorstep, events turn him into more of a hostage than a houseguest.  Jake, pathologically jealous as ever, thinks the worst of Frankie when he doesn’t return. Jake decides to head out and find Beth himself, even though his mother keeps hiding his pants so he can’t leave home.

“Why am I missing her now, Frankie?  Why not then, when she was there?”

Though there are four substantial female characters here, Shepard’s A Lie of the Mind is a story focused through a masculine lens.  Shepard is exploring the challenges of what it means to be a man in America in the 20th century.  Sadly the lessons here easily translate to the present day, 30 years after the play was first produced (likely before some of the people in the Pro Rata cast were even born).  Even when the women have a scene alone together, A Lie of Mind doesn’t pass the Bechdel Test.  The women here are collateral damage to the choices and failings of the men in their lives.  They speak about and frame their lives in relation to the men at the center of them.

“Amputation is not the answer here.”

This is hardly a celebration of the American male, however, as you might have guessed from the plot outline above.  Nate Cheeseman presents Jake to us in all his paranoid, insecure glory, a guy who lashes out at the people he loves most because he lives in constant fear of losing them.  Gabriel Murphy as Jake’s brother Frankie isn’t much better.  He’s not a violent man, but as Jake’s primary support system, Frankie is constantly propping up a guy who maybe should just be allowed to crash and burn so he’ll stop doing harm to everyone around him.  Beth’s brother Mike as portrayed by Bear Brummel means well, but his protectiveness is more than a little overbearing.  One can hardly blame him, however, since he learned at the feet of their father Baylor.  Don Maloney plays Baylor unapologetically, as a loudmouth and a tyrant.  Beth was getting verbal abuse at home long before Jake started using her as a punching bag.  It would probably come as a big surprise to Baylor that he doesn’t wear the metaphorical pants in his family.

“This is my father.  He’s given up on love.”

The people with the actual strength and resilience in this play are the women, though they’ve all chosen to take up residence in the background of all the drama created by the men in their homes.  Amy Pirkl’s Beth is frustrating to watch, in a good way.  She makes the unbelievable believable, that somehow despite everything she can’t quite let go of her love for Jake.  Women stay in abusive relationships for all kinds of reasons and Beth is one of those women.  She had to be carted off to a hospital, unconscious and bleeding, before she’d leave Jake.  Now as she tries to learn to speak again and put her life back together, she still feels like it only makes sense with a man in the middle of it - and she might be auditioning Jake’s brother for the role.  It’s a shame she doesn’t learn from her mother’s example.  Though you wonder why Beth’s mother Meg puts up with Baylor most of the time, it’s clear she made a choice, and that she runs the place, though she never raises her voice like the men of the family. 

“If something breaks - broken.  If something broken - parts still - stay.  Parts still float.  For a while.”

The mother and daughter on the other side of the extended family are further along on the spectrum of finally being fed up.  Jake’s latest meltdown just reinforces his sister Sally’s eye-rolling attitude toward the idea of settling down with a guy.  Joy Dolo is most entertaining when exasperated in her efforts to get either her brother or mother to see sense.  Kit Bix’s trip down marital memory lane as Lorraine leads her to the conclusion that maybe it’s best to just burn the past to the ground and start over.

“You’re not dead yet.  You won’t get out of it that easy.”

Theatre Pro Rata’s production of A Lie of the Mind embraces Shepard’s innate theatricality.  The design team of Ursula K. Bowden (set), Merritt Rodriguez (lights), Jacob M. Davis (sound), Cole Bylander (costumes), and Julia Carlis (props) create a dreamlike world where one scene, one place, one reality blends into another.  Symbols like the American flag, or a bloody deer carcass, loom large here, and yet never seem out of place, or to bend reality until it breaks.  Just like the characters on stage, the audience gets to see people both as they are and as others see them.  No one’s point of view here is without its flaws, and the fluid nature of time and place created by Pro Rata fits this world perfectly.

“Once we’re together the whole world will change.”

The strangest thing about A Lie of the Mind is the balancing act of its ending.  It’s not a standard issue happy ending, but neither is it bleak or nihilistic.  You get the sense that these people’s lives go on, and that it’s not a bad thing for anyone involved.  Of course it’s a largely white family, with a white family’s problems and means, so maybe it shouldn’t come as a big surprise that they bounce back.  But Pro Rata’s production is an unflinching look at a segment of America that’s used to getting off easy in the way it’s portrayed.  The heroes aren’t easy to spot here, and the villains aren’t easily dismissed.  It’s both nice and a little unsettling that Shepard’s complex portrait of the American family doesn’t seem dated in the least.

5 stars - Very Highly Recommended

(Photo: Amy Pirkl and Nate Cheeseman as the ill-fated couple Beth and Jake in Theatre Pro Rata's production of Sam Shepard's A Lie of the Mind; photo by Charles Gorrill)

Review - The Little Pilot - Sandbox Theater - Great Aerial Work, Unfocused Story

I’ve been struggling with what to write about Sandbox Theatre’s latest production as part of Southern Theater’s ARTshare program - The Little Pilot.  Everything I come up with ends up sounding insulting, which is not my intention.  So let’s start with the basics - The Little Pilot is inspired by the life and adventures of award-winning author Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, most widely known for his children’s book for adults, The Little Prince.  Saint-Exupéry was also noted for his exploits as a pilot, both before and during World War II.  His life and career unexpectedly ended when he and his plane both disappeared one day on what seemed like a routine reconnaissance mission.

“I was used to being alone up in the sky, but down on the ground.  It was unbearable.”

In order to give the production of The Little Pilot a taste of that gravity-defying feel of flying, Sandbox is incorporating aerial work on silks into its storytelling for the first time.  As someone who is afraid of heights (heck, I sometimes wobble a little just making my way down the steep stairs in the seating at the Southern Theater), the impressive work by actors who aren’t professional aerialists kept me on edge while also marveling a bit at the way they hung suspended in mid-air.  The aerial work itself comes off well - I was never afraid for the actors, they always seemed to know what they were doing.  Contemplating hanging in the air like that myself was the thing that gave me pause, kept me impressed, but never took me out of the story.  In many ways the aerial work is the chief selling point of the production.

“The world will be a whole lot quieter when we’re in the dirt.”

It’s the story of The Little Pilot and the way it was told that didn’t ever quite click for me.  And the aerial work, though well done, was like a rousing song or dance number in a musical that didn’t help the forward motion of plot or character.  It was never fully integrated into the rest of the production.  The aerial work had its moments, but the story always seemed to stop for a minute until it was done, then lurched forward again.

“I never kiss under duress.”

For me, Sandbox has always flirted in the territory of being labeled pretentious.  The thing I admire about them is how they consistently avoid falling fully into that trap.  Not always, but most of the time.  The Little Pilot is a victim of this temptation on the company’s part.  In past, more effective productions, Sandbox always digs under the veneer of the things which might make your eyes roll (a title like .faust, a collection of inept performance artists, the fascination with the French language), and make you care about the characters involved in the stories as human beings with real emotions, hopes and fears (even when they're not human).

“Language is the cause of all misunderstandings.”

The Little Pilot assumes that everyone knows and loves the story of The Little Prince, and thus would be fascinated to see the life of its author explored.  The production team of artists behind The Little Pilot makes little or no effort to show us why we, like them, should be equally fascinated and in love.  The assumption makes for a dry and often confusing story of the storyteller.  Art about artists frequently rubs me the wrong way because of its reasoning that, because someone creates beauty through art, that person and their personal story are also worthwhile and important topics for discussion.

“I have no one left here on earth with whom to reminisce.”

In fact, in some of my more uncomfortable moments watching The Little Pilot, I got the distinct feeling that I was watching something unintentionally bordering on parody - a parody of the kind of production Sandbox does, rather than an actual Sandbox production.  We already had the preoccupation with all things French, especially artists (our novelist main character).  We had the small ensemble (Christian Bardin, Mark Benzel, Evelyn Digirolamo, Jonathon Dull, Katie Kaufmann, and Patrick Webster) playing multiple roles often across gender.  There’s Tim Donahue’s live music supporting the mood and pace of the production (great here, as always). 

“In those days, I thought a lot about jungle adventures.”

Halfway into the piece (in what felt like a move executed way too late in the game), we’re suddenly introduced to Saint-Exupéry’s rag tag band of fellow daredevil pilots - each manifested with their own larger than life physical presentation and vocal inflection.  Toss into the mix the fact that five out of the six performers each play the lead character Antoine at a different stage of his short life, but there’s very little done to distinguish one version of him from another, or to make Antoine stand out in any significant way from the other characters around him.  Then layer on the aerial work and the projections of visual art.

“I come to you from the other end of the world.”

This production is a first for the project co-leads - acting ensemble member Evelyn Digirolamo, who skillfully got her castmates up to speed on the silk work elements of the performance; and Kristina Kjellman, who provided the intriguing artwork that got projected on walls, silks and human bodies.  Also first time in the Sandbox director’s chair for company member Theo Langason.  A strong argument can be made for the fact that you can't expect anyone to expand their skills and improve if you don't give them a forum in which to do that.  And ARTshare exists, in part, to give the participating companies a stable home base from which to work, so they can experiment with new and different things.

“You think of a great many things when you are about to die.”

Honestly, what they needed here was either a writer or a dramaturg - someone who could sit outside of the story and all the fascinating research and inventive physical work and see if there was any kind of structure or build to the story underneath the production.  When ensemble-created work succeeds, it’s a marvelWhen it doesn’t, more often that not it’s because the production doesn’t have a strong narrative spine underneath its shiny skin.  There’s a compelling idea and a good collection of ingredients in The Little Pilot - the whole thing’s just not quite cooked yet.

Still, though it might not be all it could be yet, The Little Pilot is still worth seeing for what it is.

3 stars - Recommended

(Photo: Evelyn Digirolamo in Sandbox Theatre's production of The Little Pilot - photo by Matthew Glover with original painting projection by Kristina Fjellman)

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Theater Review - The Map Is The Territory - Fire Drill

If you haven’t seen one of Fire Drill’s showcases of local and touring experimental artists (like spring 2014’s Bring In The Indigo, or last winter’s Absolute Bliss), you really owe it to yourself to follow them so you get word the next time one springs up.  Like their latest offering, The Map Is The Territory, these showcases pop up for only a day or two, but they’re always stuffed full of material that plays with your head and your notion of performance and audience in intriguing and entertaining ways.

“The dystopian future I’m most terrified of is happening now.”

The Map Is The Territory also served as an inaugural event for Fire Drill in their new studio space, Fresh Oysters Performance Research (basically the building right next door to Open Eye Figure Theatre).  Fire Drill will be sharing the space with Skewed Visions and choreographer Laurie Van WierenThe Map Is The Territory was a fitting way to invite people into the space, as it was largely local performers this time out, with one significant visitor from Seattle.

“The blood I didn’t ask for and the air I now choose to receive.”

That visiting artist would be Tim Smith-Stewart and his artistic partner Madeline Marchal.  They shared two segments of a much larger, evolving work entitled (deep breath) Awaiting Oblivion, or How To Be OK When Everything Is Not OK: Temporary Solutions For Surviving The Dystopian Future We Find Ourselves In At Present - (phew).  The story behind the piece is almost as fascinating as the performance itself.  Smith-Stewart is being sent anonymous packages of art and text from a street artist who calls him/herself AO.  AO also sends instructions, some of which are to turn these mailings of material into live performance.  The lengthy but very apt title is AO’s, as are the titles of the individual temporary solutions.  The ones presented at this outing were #4 - You’re Not Icarus, You’ll Make It, and #1,113 Mermaids Stay Free, or Live or Die, But Don’t Poison Everything.

“I say Live, Live because of the sun, 
the dream, the excitable gift.”

The basic structure of each performance goes like this: one person performs the text while the other person unveils a dizzying array of photographs, text and pieces of art on the surface of a table directly under a video camera that projects the image larger than life on the wall behind them.  It’s a dance of words and images juggled by two performers in perfect, fluid synchronization with one another.  It’s a very impressive feat that at the same time is careful to always draw attention to itself as performance.  AO’s words are being channeled (first through Smith-Stewart on Icarus, secondly through Marchal on Mermaids), and he wants the audience aware of this.  Smith-Stewart wears a bluetooth headset that feeds the spoken text into his ear while he’s performing it.

“Are you OK?”
“Absolutely not, but please keep walking.”


At one point in Icarus, a flow chart constructed by AO is unrolled and taped up on the wall to make the audience (and the performer) visually aware of all the corporate entities to which the artist is beholden.  AO doesn’t want the audience to think the piece of art is the revolution itself.  The art is already compromised by the messenger.  The revolution happens separate from the art.  Because AO knew that Smith-Stewart would be performing in Minneapolis, they researched Billy Mullaney and Emily Gastineau of Fire Drill and created an addendum flow chart of the organizations providing them with day jobs (and what the corporations and foundations supporting those organizations do to the world at large) that also got rolled out (taller than a single person) and taped to the wall.  A picture of the front of the Fresh Oysters Performance Research building was also nimbly inserted into the flow of the projected images shuffled across the table.

“When losing everything, grip anything.”

At one point the camera was turned up from the table to capture Smith-Stewart in motion, and the audience surrounding him.  Everyone present gets pulled into, and indicted by, the performance.  At the end of Mermaids, Marchal and Smith-Stewart raised a flag with an image of Anne Sexton above our heads, and had us stand for the recitation of her poem Live or Die, But Don’t Poison Everything.  Marchal’s performance of AO’s Mermaids was a meditation on and celebration of Sexton the poet, a story about the (imaginary?) mermaids who lived in houses destined for destruction, and the reengineering of paychecks from a day job into art or typing paper for various poems and manifestos of resistance.

“The non-profit arts industrial complex.”

Now on one level I’m sure that all sounds really precious and self-indulgent, but trust me, in performance, it’s pretty mesmerizing.  It’s a perfect example of the notion that you have to see some things with your own eyes, live in performance.  Reporting or words on a page alone simply don’t do it justice.  Which is why it’s a great service that Fire Drill brings these kinds of artists to town, to screw with our heads and make us reevaluate our definitions of live performance, and our role as audience members for live performance.  Just the physical existence of the things AO created as the launching pad for these performances is mind-boggling - the care with which they’re put together, the actual typing on a manual typewriter and not a computer keyboard, it’s really something.

“Is anyone seeing this?”

All of the above is not to imply that the local artists on display didn’t also deliver great stuff.  Smith-Stewart, Marchal and AO are just operating on a whole other level here, and Awaiting Oblivion and its individual segments are highly detailed, fully realized works.  All of the local artists are using The Map Is The Territory as an incubator for works in progress.  The works are still taking shape, and need some exposure to an audience to capture what’s working and what’s not.  Thankfully, a whole lot’s working just fine here.

“They tell us not to cry because we deserve this.”

Hmong dancer/choreographer Magnolia Yang Sao Yia gathered a half dozen other Hmong women (Ahne Her, Gaosong V. Heu, Itly Thayiegn, Nplooj Siab Vaj, Holy Yang, and Prescillia Yang Sao Yia) combining poetry, spoken word, music (on a qeej) and movement in her piece Shhh…silence.  The performance was an exercise in finding the voice of silenced Hmong women and finally giving it permission, and volume.  It feels very much like the opening movement of something much longer: now that the voice has been found, what will it say?

“I have been taught to be ashamed of my voice.”

Two media pieces also joined the roster of live performance.  Egyptian-born US citizen and poet/performance artist Moheb Soliman offered up the short film Naturalized.  The idea of binding or connecting a person to a country, to the land of their choice, was represented in the film by the physical metaphor of people being lowered and raised on some kind of crane into a muddy pool of water.  The spectator only sees the heads of the people, upside down, as they are raised and lowered, each twice.  The second dunking is always a little deeper, but the subjects are never completely submerged.  You can hear the whir and whine of the engine of the machine that moves them.  You see the water droplets raining down from their wet hair as they are raised again.  The boundary of the pool of water is surrounded in small stones and fallen leaves.  Two men, two women, and finally the artist, the film fading out as he goes in for a third dunking.  Not entirely sure about the point of this one.  It wasn’t performed so much as it was something that was staged to happen that was filmed.  Observance of the ritual itself may be enough for the artist.  Maybe I was wrong to look for anything beyond that.

“Godzilla is a metaphor.  A suit is ephemeral.”

An audio-only offering came from local writer/performance artist Ali O’Reilly, excerpts from her work Men Tell You About A Time They Rescued An Injured Bird From a Storm Drain.  Excerpts were played at the top of the evening and then at two other points between other acts.  Three different male voices, what the artist calls invented text written and performed by local male artists.  Men tell stories of times they helped animals, as if revealing incidents of tenderness and emotion are accpetable as long as there aren’t other human beings involved.  The program says the project “uses moments of fabricated vulnerability to explore the compartmentalization of emotional and physical interpersonal intimacy.”  This piece may have been least served by presentation in an excerpted capacity.  I get the feeling I’d probably understand it better, and get the desired impact, if it were allowed to play out, and the feelings to accumulate in response to the project as a whole.  Side note: I love the title of her upcoming book of poetry: What Is The Opposite of a Machine Gun And How Do I Empty That Into You?

“I have the mark of Ghengis Khan.”

Local director Lisa Channer used the showcase to develop ten new minutes of material from a longer piece called Rant in which she tries to capture the spirit and personality of her father, and their unusual relationship.  Traditional parenting was apparently not something in the cards for Harold Channer.  He was more focused on changing the world, or at least talking about and planning to execute that change.  He doesn’t travel, so his daughter comes to him. Channer uses a combination of spoken word, computer and film technology and, like the three blind men trying to figure out an elephant, focuses in on different parts of her picture of her father, that may or may not lead to an accurate representation of the whole.  A suit hangs in an alcove above a chocolate cake on a stand, under the table holding the cake sits a child (Daniel Rovinsky), occasionally engaging Channer in dialogue, other times flashing his reading lamp in the Morse code for S.O.S.  Volunteers (regardless of gender or age) are drawn from the audience to read two person father daughter scenes.  A recorded conversation between father and daughter gets scrambled through the projection of voice dictation software.  Channer’s father developed a sudden affinity for the film Birdman and shared it with her.  Trying to decode the message in that gesture comprises the second part of the new material.  As with the other excerpts, I’m curious to see where this one is going.

“You go through the verbs to get to the cake.”

The evening concluded with local writer/performer Paige Collette presenting her piece Food Blog. Her alter ego here is Patricia Lake, Mary Kay cosmetics consultant and food blogger.  The food blog is a calling for her.  A way to be there for her fellow humans in their time of need, which naturally also revolve around food.  I’m always happy to see Paige Collette’s name on a talent roster because I know I’m going to be entertained.  Whether it’s one half of a two-person play like Buttercream and Scotch, or a solo outing like she did in 20% Theatre Company’s Q-Stage a couple of years back, she’s serving up a variation on the type of woman for whom words like brassy and ballsy are a compliment.

“Here’s where I see a parallel between mental illness and sex.”

Collette’s characters frequently say outrageous things, but the thing that makes them doubly funny is the kernel of truth that lurks inside them.  The other thing that’s engaging about Collette’s writing is that it embraces the pains and disappointment of life but is never dragged down by them.  In the end, there’s a freewheeling celebration of life and sensuality.  Here in Food Blog, it’s a dance full of wild abandon - plus ketchup and a roll of tin foil.  Collette peels off layers, tosses off her wig and encourages an audience member to help cover the front of her in ketchup.  While that might sound odd or transgressive, it ends up being mostly playful.  Just like past encounters, it made me look forward to whatever Collette’s going to try next.

“Any of these can fill in that masculine coloring book for you.”

Something I found interesting about the evening as a whole was an unintentional commonality of many of the pieces - their almost complete dependence on technology.  Though designed as live performance, there were so many projections and sound effects involved, I couldn’t help but see the pattern.  I even wrote the note “So many silver Apple laptops” in my book.  I’m still not entirely sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it’s definitely a thing.  The use of technology is such an integral part of the language and movement of Awaiting Oblivion that it would be a much less rich piece without it (it would survive, because the words and the performance are so compelling, but an extra layer of meaning and audience engagement would definitely be lost).  Some of the other offerings hadn’t fully integrated the technology into their DNA yet.  Maybe they need it, maybe they don’t.  That’s what workshopping’s for.

Be on the lookout for the next Fire Drill showcase.  There’s always something, several somethings, you’ve never seen before.

5 stars - Very Highly Recommended

Friday, August 07, 2015

2015 Fringe Review - Post Traumatic Super Delightful

Tweet Review - Post Traumatic Super Delightful- part clown/part chameleon, hilarious, moving, unreal - 5 stars

There are a lot of amazing things about Antonia Lassar’s Post Traumatic Super Delightful (PTSD), but the most amazing thing is Lassar herself.  Because if you call it a clown show, that’s not an expansive enough label to encompass what’s going on here.  If you call it a one-woman show, that also doesn’t do it justice.  Mostly because Lassar isn’t just a clown or even just one woman.  She so vividly creates so many characters that it feels like she’s several people at the same time.  And then you meet her on the street saying “Feminist clown show?  Feminist clown show?” as she puts a postcard for PSTD in your hand, and you still fail to recognize her because she seems like yet another person offstage.

“I wish a ceiling fan could cry.”

Lassar uses the clown persona in interludes throughout Post Traumatic Super Delightful to give the audience a chance to breathe, and laugh in a different way.  Perhaps there’s some satire included as well, or maybe just an enormous fart to undercut tension or sentimentality.

“I took advantage of the situation.  I did not take advantage of her.”

But the heart of PTSD is Lassar’s recreation of three key people impacted by a case of sexual assault on a college campus.  The framework in which we meet this people is ostensibly the artist creating a thesis show about sexual assault.  We’re led to believe it’s ultimately the show we’re seeing right now in front of us, but the interviews take place over a period of time.  During that time, the clown show goes through more than one draft, and even a set of initial performances.  We hear the interviewees responding to it.  Some elements of that show are things we see around these interviews.  But the show within a show has become so politically troublesome that the campus no longer supports it and it needs to find a home at the local YWCA.

“Is he being punished?  No.  He’s on vacation.”

The survivor of the sexual assault is much discussed, but never met.  Instead we meet the Title IX administrator, hired by the campus in the wake of the sexual assault, to try and improve the atmosphere and safety for women at the college.  The administrator is an outspoken Russian woman who prides herself on her looks, and her determination not to back down in the face of resistance from those who govern the school. 

“Julia does not look like a rape victim.”

There is also a professor who had both the survivor and the alleged perpetrator of the assault in one of her classes.  The professor serves as the faculty advisor to the accused rapist, and at first is very vocal in her support of him.  She is just as vocal in her doubts about the victim.

“I’m no good at this job.  I just want justice.  What is wrong with me?”

Finally, we also get to meet the young man accused of the crime of sexual assault.  He doesn’t understand how he finds himself in the middle of this maelstrom.  He is convinced of his innocence.  His suspension and pending hearing trouble him, but not nearly as much as the idea of his younger sister (who reveres him) finding out about it.

“You know the details.  Do you think I raped her?”

Lassar in creating these three people is such an adept chameleon that it’s mindboggling.  After establishing the three “characters” - their personalities, accents, vocal inflections, the way they carry themselves physically - Lassar begins to switch between them at will, sometimes in the middle of sentence, without missing a beat.  It’s like you’re watching three interviews in a documentary being interspliced together - only it’s a single performer bouncing back and forth between characters so effortlessly that you can forget she’s doing it.

“With all the sh*t on this campus, we have to use it to fertilize something good.”

There’s a lot of humor even in these interview segments of PTSD.  Some of it’s dark humor, but with a subject like this, that would seem to be completely impervious to comedy, you gratefully take your laughs where you can get them.

“I was raped.  But I got over it.”

There’s also a lot of food for thought in Post Traumatic Super Delightful.  But what a great gift the show is.  One person, easy to travel, and given the epidemic of sexual assault on college campuses these days, there’s a far too vast array of potential audiences out there in need of it.  If anybody’s got the energy to make those journeys, it’s Lassar.  I’m just glad she brought it to Minnesota for our Fringe.

5 Stars - Very Highly Reccomended

2015 Fringe Review - Backlash

Tweet Review - Backlash - mom says Josh Carson's shows get better every year; I agree 5 stars

There are days I don’t think we deserve Josh Carson, but I’m awfully glad he’s here.  Mom can always rely on him for a lot of laughs any year he’s got a show in the Fringe Festival, just as he does this year, with Backlash.  But, as Mom rightly points out, Josh turned it up a notch this year.  For her, that can be summed by saying, “That scene between him and his wife…”  If you see the show, and you should (because who doesn’t like to laugh?), you’ll know the scene she’s talking about.  It’s not the funniest scene in Backlash.  There are a lot of other candidates for that honor.  But like many of the best scenes in Backlash, there’s a lot of genuine emotion, and even pain, lurking under the surface.

“And that’s how I nailed Helen Mirren.”

There’s nothing like honest, slightly embarrassing sentiment, as a set up for a joke to undercut it and not take ourselves so seriously.  Carson’s theatrical machine, the aptly titled Mainly Me Productions, has been through some life transitions between Fringes.  Since last year’s Our American Assassin, or You Can’t Handle The Booth!, Carson’s main partner in crime Andy Rocco Kraft got married and moved to California.  Now Carson’s comedy protege from shows like Class of ’98 and One Hit Thunder, Tucker Garborg will be heading off arts college in the fall.  The guys’ll come back in the summer for Fringe shows as needed, but hey, life moves on whether we want it to or not.  It’s that inevitable tide of life’s transitions that Carson mines for humor in Backlash.

“I think I had a stroke.  Here’s Madonna.”

Bill and Allie Young (Carson and Sara Marsh) are married teachers at the local high school.  Bill’s student Blair (Garborg) has filmed a gag video (Law and Order - With Farts) that goes viral and gets him national attention.  It also gets him - and Bill - an audition for Saturday Night Live, which sets them off on a road trip to New York. 

“Are there any gluten free options?  I have celiac, I’m not an asshole.”

Along the way, they pick up another traveler, the relentlessly optimistic Hope (Sulia Altenberg), whose car doesn’t recover from trouble as easily as theirs does.  They also run into the SNL cast member Wesley Wallace (Kraft)  - the guy they might be auditioning to replace.  Wesley is a reluctant star who wants out of his contract so badly, he’ll happily help Blair try to ace the audition process.  Playing a host of other roles, including the ominous ruler of SNL, Lorne Michaels, is Nels Lennes.

“If you’d taken the improv class I recommended, you’d have an excuse by now.”

There’s a lot of heartfelt moments packed inside all the laughs of Backlash.  It’s an engaging mix that keeps the comedy side from getting too crass, and the sentimental side from getting too treacly.  It’s a delicate balance, tilted toward the comedy side of things, because who wants to dwell too long on life’s changes and disappointments if you can find a way to smile instead? 

“I do improv in the back of a bowling alley for drink tickets.”

It always astonishes me how Carson can not only produce and write but also act in and direct his own work.  Not everyone has the presence of mind to see themselves and the work clearly enough from the outside to be able to get the whole thing to work.  It’s a gift he has that I have to admit I envy.  Also, it helps to have the kind of collaborators he has in Garborg, Kraft, Altenberg (another Mainly Me regular), Lennes and now Marsh.  They make it all look so easy, but I know doing comedy this well is hard work.

“They made Paul Walker finish *his* movie.”

Like I said, there are days I don’t think we deserve Josh Carson, but I’m awfully glad he’s here.  Also, that scene between him and his wife…

5 Stars - Very Highly Recommended

2015 Fringe Review - Terra Incognita

Tweet Review - Terra Incognita - easily the sexiest, most romantic thing I've seen at Fringe this year, may have to go again (phew) - 5 stars

Dancers who are graceful are a joy to watch.  Dancers who are also acrobats can dazzle you with feats most of our human bodies aren’t fit or strong enough to attempt.  Dancers who are also performers from the neck up, not just the neck down, can capture your attention on a whole other level.  Dancers who are all these things at once?  Well, they can make you catch your breath for periods of time that are probably not healthy.  The dancer/acrobat/performers of UpLift Physical Theatre (presented here by Soma Acrobatic Theatre) can hold an entire audience in that kind of suspension for nearly an hour with just the briefest of chances to breathe.  Their Fringe show Terra Incognita is so good I’m going back to see it a second time before they close.  I wish I’d seen it sooner so I could see it yet again.

Why?  Because the experience of Terra Incognita washes over you the same way the sounds of the surf on their sound effects track does.  It requires your almost constant attention because there are eight bodies in motion nearly every moment from the start of the show til its finish.  They make things like somersaults look easy.  Or try jumping into or out of a somerault.  How about a cartwheel?  How about a one-handed cartwheel?  How about standing on someone’s shoulders?  How about that person below them walking around with someone on their shoulders?  These dancers are in such control of their bodies that they can use one another as balance to bend and twist and turn and carry and even walk up walls.

But the thing here that puts it all over the edge into another realm of performance is the way these artists engage one another.  If they were just rolling around in precise synchronization with one another, sure that’d be captivating.  But it’d be about as human as a set of dominoes arranged to collapse in an elaborate display.  These performers are fully human and engaged even as they’re in a near constant state of motion.  There are periods of time when a single person or pair or trio of the dancers will take focus, and others will be on the sidelines or perhaps right on top of them looking on.  It’s the way these dancers watch each other, it’s the attention they pay to each other, that can mesmerize you.  No matter where you look on stage, even if a person is standing still, they are actively engaged in what is going on.  They aren’t just passively observing.  They care, or disdain, or dare, or hope, or long for the other performers in the spotlight.  You can see it all over their faces.

And while it’s not exactly GLBT content, Terra Icognita is by no means heteronormative.  Some of the most elegant and passionate interchanges take place between Nicholette Routhier and Alyssa Hughlett, clad in light colored fabric, some tight, some flowing.  They spend a great deal of time entwined together, or carrying one another on their backs, all in ways that are extremely intimate and tender.  Audrey Leclair and Juliana Frick mirror one another’s movements in more playful ways during one exchange, but one of them is always trying to get closer and more comfortable in response to the other attempting to break away.  Hannah Gaff mixes it up with everybody in powerful, athletic ways, while Andrea Martinez isn’t shy about using flirtation and sex appeal to spice up the mix.  The two men in the ensemble - Jerome Yorke Jr. and Moses Norton - have an embarrassment of riches in terms of female dance partners and they engage each one in different, specific ways.  But there are also moments where these two men embrace and support one another that are tender and powerful in their own right.

There isn’t a story here, per se, but the connections between the dancers carry a lot of emotional freight.  Your brain might not be able to parse it all, but your heart and your gut certainly can.  When they climb over one another in groups like mountains or wash over each other in waves like water or drop from the sky into each others waiting arms - kind of makes you wish you had friends of your own you could hang out with and do incredible things like that.

But since most of us don’t, Terra Incognita is the next best thing.  Watch, and be amazed.

Final performance tonight 5:30pm, I’m there.

5 stars - Very Highly Recommended

2015 Fringe Review - You and I: Verse

Tweet Review - You And I: Verse - not ashamed to admit it, words turn me on - 5 stars

The more I think about how this production was put together, the more impressed I am.  You and I: Verse is three interwoven stories, but they’re not really thematically related.  They are instead tied together with the most tenuous of threads - words, images, sounds which recur in all three tales. 

“I dodge the fury of another of her smiles.”

One story, performed by Dobbs DeCorsey, is more straightforward storytelling, about a guy who falls in love with fire (and arson) and gets metaphorically and emotionally burned in a big way.  Another story, performed by Camille Isadora Smith, weaves poetry and poetic turns of phrase throughout the tale of mismatched lovers who may not have the right timing to make it for the long run. 

“I keep my mouth shut in order to make a good third impression.”

The last story, performed by Mike Hentges, is a torrent of spoken word excess, rivers of words flying out of the guy’s mouth as he recounts his unrequited love for a pretty barista in his local coffee house that resurfaces in the most unlikely of ways years later after he finds himself happily married.

“I’m sure Degas committed tons of felonies.”

Director Steve Soler has crafted this experience with great attention to detail that doesn’t tend to draw attention to itself.  Only now am I appreciating, thinking back over the piece, how the arsonist’s story moves at a slower pace, while the young poetess recounts her story at a pace that ebbs and flows - mostly normal, but sometimes faster, and the lovestruck coffeeshop artist is barreling along at warp speed for much of his tale.  Yet none of them are ever really offstage.  Shared noises, finger snaps and the like, are timed perfectly in unison.  The performers need to be paying close attention to pull this off. 

“She asked what I wanted and I almost asked for my breath back.”

The arsonist and the young woman in love have to go to some pretty melodramatic places - whether you want to go with them, or even believe them, varies from audience member to audience member.  Mom, for instance, wasn’t engaged in the same way I was.  I was riveted.  In the same way I am transfixed and hold my breath at times when watching expertly performed dance, the way the words danced here had me totally bewitched.

“I’m sorry that you’re never going to teach her how to read.”

All three performers are good but the standout here is Mike Hentges.  I saw him in a clunky but enjoyable modern musical riff on Jane Austen’s romantic novels called Austen-tacious (I know, I know) last year.  He was fun to watch in that, but he’s a completely different person here.  Now, in the intervening time, he’s spent a lot of hours doing spoken word and storytelling, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he’s upped his game as a performer.  But this isn’t just next level steps up.  He’s leaped a great distance between last year and this one.  The words and the performance here perfectly capture the kind of manic, giddy strangeness that being under someone’s thrall can do to a person.  He admits to stalker-isn behavior, but it somehow remains charming and less ominous than the dark places the other two stories travel. 

“With shame I didn’t think I had left, I ordered my steak burrito.”

Of course you can’t really have one without the other.  If the other two stories didn’t exist for contrast, Hentges’ story might seem less gleeful and more neurotic.  It might also not seem to have the real potential for turning out poorly, if the two other stories didn’t take their unfortunate turns.

“This was my most fortunate mistake - we made eye contact.”

If words are your thing, and they are mine, you should definitely check out You and I: Verse.  I enjoyed myself so much, I’m going back again for their final performance on Sunday (and I don’t do a lot of repeat viewing at Fringe time).  But you don’t have to wait, they’ve got one tonight - Friday 8/7 at 5:30pm

5 stars - Very Highly Recommended

2015 Fringe - Friday night 5 Star Shows I’ve Seen and Recommend

Tweet Reviews and links to full reviews below.  More reviews coming:

5:30pm - Rarig Arena - You and I: Verse - (full review here) #mnfringe You And I: Verse - not ashamed to admit it, words turn me on - 5 stars (I’ll be going again, Sunday)
#mnfringe Review - You and I: Verse - 3 stories, 3 speeds, tied up neatly together; catnip 4 word junkies - 5 stars



5:30pm - Rarig Proscenium - Terra Incognita (FINAL PERFORMANCE) - (full review here)
#mnfringe Terra Incognita - easily the sexiest, most romantic thing I've seen at Fringe this year, may have to go again (phew) - 5 stars - (I am going again, today)
#mnfringe Review - Terra Icognita from - visually and emotionally dazzling - 5 stars

5:30pm - TRP - Backlash (FINAL PERFORMANCE) (full review here)
#mnfringe Backlash - mom says Josh Carson's shows get better every year; I agree - 5 stars
#mnfringe Review - Backlash, from and Mainly Me - laughing off some of life's transitions - 5 stars


5:30pm - Ritz Proscenium - Dance With The Devil - full review from when I saw it in the Twin Cities Horror Festival (a dance/storytelling mix that’s a great blend - 5 stars)






5:30pm - Theater Garage - Fruit Flies Like A Banana
#mnfringe Fruit Flies Like A Banana - high energy beat the clock lunacy from a trio of frighteningly talented musician/dancers - 5 stars (they sold out on Sunday, so get there early) (part of my Top 20 list for the Fringe this year)


7pm - Ritz Proscenium - 105 Proof, or The Killing of Mack “The Silencer” Klein
#mnfringe 105 Proof - well, it's no fairy tale, but @TLATheatre did it again, intense, 5 stars





8:30pm - Phoenix Theater - Post Traumatic Super Delightful (FINAL PERFORMANCE) (full review here)
#mnfringe Post Traumatic Super Delightful- part clown/part chameleon, hilarious, moving, unreal - 5 stars (part of my Top 20 list for the Fringe this year)
#mnfringe Review - Post Traumatic Super Delightful from - 1 person show that feels like it's 4 people


8:30pm - HUGE Theater - A Mermaid In Narnia (on LSD)
#mnfringe A Mermaid In Narnia (On LSD) - another compelling solo show from Arial Leaf on her tumultuous early years - 5 stars





8:30pm - Ritz Studio - The Secret Book of Jesus - full review here
#mnfringe Secret Book of Jesus - mom admits it may partly be the subject matter, but she thinks this is phillip's best show yet, 5 stars





8:30pm - Rarig Proscenium - Spicy Masala Chai (High Sell-Out Risk)
#mnfringe Spicy Masala Chai - oh, so THAT's what a full-on Bollywood extravaganza looks like; F-U-N - 5 stars




10pm - Phoenix Theater - Coffee, Tea or Me, an existential crisis
#mnfringe Coffee Tea or Me - a perfectly matched pair of very different traveling storytellers - 5 stars

2015 Fringe - Friday night 4-1/2 Star Shows I’ve Seen and Recommend

Tweet Reviews below, full reviews coming:

5:30pm - Mixed Blood - Demo Tape
#mnfringe Demo Tape - just as fun as I hoped it would be; probably needs one more song, streamlined plot - 4.5 stars






7pm - Phoenix Theater - Pretty Girls Make Graves
#mnfringe Pretty Girls Make Graves - another smart funny obsessed Sam Landman play that isn't what you think it is - 4.5 stars


7pm - HUGE Theater - Trans Families - full review in the pipeline right now at Twin Cities Daily Planet
#mnfringe Trans Families - compelling readers theater about shifting identities fraying couples at the edges - 4.5 stars





8:30pm - Rarig Thrust - Goblin In The Attic Joins A Dance Crew
#mnfringe Goblin In The Attic Joins A Dance Crew - very odd, strangely charming, polished piece of musical theater - 4.5 stars


2015 Fringe - Friday night 4 Star Shows I’ve Seen and Recommend

Tweet Reviews below, full reviews to follow:

4pm - Rarig Xperimental - Everywhere You Look
#mnfringe Everywhere You Look - strong script, intense production, weird directing choices. - 4 stars



10pm - Rarig Proscenium - School of Rhythm
#mnfringe School of Rhythm - over a dozen young dancers involved in a whole school day's worth of joyful energetic ensemble dance 4 stars