Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Fringe 2019 Top 10 - #3 - Ploys for Ensemble Glitz and Crisis Actors – Toot - Southern Theater
Description: It's not a conspiracy, we "promise!" The lights of Satan frame the faces of those who prepare to take the stage. And we're going to take it back! We take a keen, empirical interest in the obvious truth!
The thing that first drew me to the show page was the image - a figure in a long blue gown wearing an alien mask wandering through an abandoned theater space.
I read the show description and thought, “OK, borderline pretentious, and completely impenetrable. Who’s working on this?”
And I saw two names that immediately made me trust the thing - Charles Campbell of Skewed Visions, and Emily Gastineau of Fire Drill, two local physical/intellectual performance wizards. I am constantly intrigued by anything they do, even if I often can’t find words to convey the full range of feelings I experience when watching their art. They poke at the boundaries of theater and audience, in ways that invite the audience into the process, rather than assault them as mere outside observers who are intruding on the process. They want you to feel and they want you to think. They’re listed as collaborative conspirators, so I’m already on board.
I feel like I should know Eric Larson, or some of his previous work, but it’s such a generic “John Smith” kind of name for the upper Midwest that I have know way of knowing for sure as I type this. A quick scan of my social media shows another physical performance theater person whose work I greatly admire, Samantha Johns, is a huge fan of Eric Larson, so that causes me to trust him as the Creator/Director of the project as well.
And honestly, their Fringe preview last night just reinforced my amusement with the whole concept of the show. There are two people listed as actual performers, rather than as collaborative conspirators, so I'm assuming Kenzi Allen and David Melendez were two of the people wandering onto the stage last night, but it was hard to know, because all (ultimately) three of them were wearing demon/monster masks, the kind of plastic full head coverings that make it impossible to see a human face underneath.
But first, we hear the strains of the introduction to the song "Seasons of Love" from the musical Rent, which makes me inwardly groan, until the singing starts and I realize it's in German, and then the demon people wander out and begin to pretend to lip sync/perform the song. At one point they wander into the audience and hand out sheets of paper. Not the program, not the show card, each sheet has a random name typed on it. Mine was Ava Farrell. And a quick Google search later tells you, nothing definitive - she could be a college track star, an actress with an IMDB page, or a research assistant under a Nobel Prize winner in cellular and molecular neuroscience. Or none of the above. But take no details for granted. The creator/performers of Toot don't.
Oh yeah, they call themselves Toot. A theatrical fart. I am apparently still a ten year old boy at times.
So they just perform the song, including trying to get the audience to clap along. We're sheep at musicals, so we do.
Just deeply weird. As is the write-up on the More Information tab on their show page:
"A rehearsal for XXXXX like Ploys for Ensemble Glitz and Crisis Actors can only play out with a little planning.
First things first: lay the groundwork. If this hypothetical performance really is that important/penultimate, something insidious certainly compromises its purity.
Identifying the following element is the next and most crucial step: find out which secret plan best justifies XXXXX conditions, overcome it, then stage the juiciest parts. It wouldn’t be so bad to be skeptical every now and again, is it going to kill you? Isn’t someone out there always a few steps ahead anyway?
Finally, create an assertive yet unassuming title for the shadow company which will present the piece. “Toot” could work. It might be too much. Do a jazz square and choose it despite doubts. There’s always room for what feels good, even in situations like these.
Ploys for Ensemble Glitz and Crisis Actors was born from this method.
Toot, Eric Larson, and those who wish to identify with Ploys for Ensemble Glitz and Crisis Actors would do right by themselves were they to establish an active online message board. For now, The Southern Theater will act as a fine venue."
Anything that Emily and Charles are involved in, and Samantha's excited about, I'm there for.
I know all the written material might sound self-important and hopelessly twee but give them a try. I always enjoy the hell out of these strange presentations, despite all previous misgivings. No guarantees in art or life, but I'd bet on this group of interconnected artists any day. They don't take themselves too seriously (just look at their posted bios on the Cast and Crew tab if you don’t believe me), but they take their art and their audiences seriously. I may not always understand, or be able to communicate it afterward, but I'm never bored, always engaged, and feel like I've spent my time watching something significant. And often quite fun. So, you know, the kind of stuff I go to Fringe to see.
First show - Saturday, August 3, 2019, 7pm - Southern Theater
For a quick list of links to my other postings, check out my Top 10 and Top 11-20 new Fringe artists to check out for Fringe 2019. There's also Returning Favorites, and Fringe Shows I Just Can't Watch Right Now, but You Probably Should. If you want to keep me company, during my first Fringe without Mom, I'll be posting my schedule here. Also, here's some links if you want to hit all the Fringe 2019 blog posts, or see the full Fringe Archive from years past (just keep scrolling down, or hit the different years in the archive listing for the full blog on the right side of the screen and zero in on July and August)
Labels:
Fringe Archives 2019,
Fringe blogging,
Fringe Top 10
Monday, July 22, 2019
Fringe 2019 Top 20 #19 - R Culture - EnCompass Theatre - Strike
Description: Satirical vignettes set the stage for an unlikely carnival where the Ringmaster and her clowns boldly unmask the naked, chilling truth of rape culture.
I was already curious about this one, and then they sent me a press release that really sold me on both the production and the company, so I’m going to borrow their words, since they describe themselves best. I figure if it sold me, it’ll probably sell you, too.
“Through edgy satire comedy, Cecilia Copeland’s R Culture tackles the escalating issue of rape culture in America.
Copeland carefully crafts a high stakes environment with a backdrop of carnival vignettes to set the stage for the Ringmaster and their clowns to unmask the disdainful behavior that lurks in our society.
Settings include dialogue from high school parties, college admissions processes, climbing the corporate ladder; revealing nakedly a chilling truth that we often try to ignore, R culture is embedded into the American subconscious.
EnCompass Theatre Company is proud to present Cecilia Copeland’s R Culture as their Minnesota Fringe debut.
Encompass Theatre Company’s mission is to encompass both the audience and the artist to help create theatre that is topical and compelling.
They do this by selecting shows that follow our theatrical moral compass.
(I got confused for a second here, and then I realized they weren’t trying to spell EnCompass, they were dealing with the north, south, east and west of their [moral] compass - sometimes I’m slow :)
N is for New works and New artists; to collaborate with new and emerging designers, playwrights, and actors that have unique perspectives on their art.
E is for Enthralling and Educational; audiences should walk away with more on their mind than the mundane. Instead, an audience should depart reflecting on the art, society, history, or even oneself.
S is for Social Justice and Social Consciousness; to engage with scripts that discuss topical issues that influence our communities. By partnering with community members and non profit organizations we will be able to spark conversations and inspire action.
W is for Woman Led and Women Inspired; Casey Marie Holmes leads this company with the intent to collaborate with a feminist lens to bring to life powerful female roles and narratives.
Come join us for this EnCompass Theatre Productions latest production motivated by the #MeToo and Feminist Movement and in support of all people who have been violated by the patriarchal society and the predators that lurk and benefit in the shadows.”
Sold. There. Plotting it into my schedule now.
First show - Friday, August 2, 2019, 5:30pm - Strike Theater
For a quick list of links to my other postings, check out my Top 10 and Top 11-20 new Fringe artists to check out for Fringe 2019. There's also Returning Favorites, and Fringe Shows I Just Can't Watch Right Now, but You Probably Should. If you want to keep me company, during my first Fringe without Mom, I'll be posting my schedule here. Also, here's some links if you want to hit all the Fringe 2019 blog posts, or see the full Fringe Archive from years past (just keep scrolling down, or hit the different years in the archive listing for the full blog on the right side of the screen and zero in on July and August)
Labels:
Fringe Archives 2019,
Fringe blogging,
Fringe Top 20
Fringe 2019 Top 10 - #2 - Stoopidity - Ian McCarthy, Michael McKitt, Domino D'Lorion - Rarig X
Description: 3 blackboys sit on the front stoop of their apartment building, trying to navigate & understand what it means to love deeply. To question tradition. To be queer. To be unapologetically black in the world today.
This is the strange and circumstantial path that leads me to a Fringe show sometimes.
I work at the Guthrie Theater box office part time as one of my day jobs.
The Guthrie partners with the University of Minnesota on the training of their BFA acting program.
Every year, the graduating seniors mount a production in the Guthrie’s black box theater space, and their families come to see them in the show.
One day while manning the box office counter, a delightful woman came to pick up her tickets for the senior showcase production. She was excited.
Across the lobby, a young man waited patiently (and perhaps a little sheepishly) for her.
“Are you an actor?” she asked me, apropos of nothing.
“No, I’m a playwright,” I responded, because that always seems to interest people.
“Oh,” she responded, pointing to the young man, “that’s my nephew, he’s an actor, and also a playwright.”
That young man was Ian McCarthy.
I filed that name away in my memory bank of artists.
And here it is again, popping up on the Fringe website, in a show with two other BFA trainees, all from different places in the country, telling stories of queer people of color.
The Fringe is a great resource for allowing me to hear voices I might not otherwise get to here. So I’m in.
Side note: Same as for Carbon Man-Dating.
First show - Thursday, August 1, 2019, 7pm - Rarig Center Xperimental
For a quick list of links to my other postings, check out my Top 10 and Top 11-20 new Fringe artists to check out for Fringe 2019. There's also Returning Favorites, and Fringe Shows I Just Can't Watch Right Now, but You Probably Should. If you want to keep me company, during my first Fringe without Mom, I'll be posting my schedule here. Also, here's some links if you want to hit all the Fringe 2019 blog posts, or see the full Fringe Archive from years past (just keep scrolling down, or hit the different years in the archive listing for the full blog on the right side of the screen and zero in on July and August)
Labels:
Fringe Archives 2019,
Fringe blogging,
Fringe Top 10
Fringe 2019 Shows I Just Can’t Watch Right Now, but You Probably Should - part 1
Visitation - DangerVision Productions - Crane Theater
Description: Grief is not tidy or well behaved, nor is this show. This creative collaboration explores the grief experience from funny to poetic to painful by mixing performance and video projection
The More Information tab for this show’s page begins, “Loosely set in a funeral home…”
OK, I’m out.
Which is a shame, because there are a lot of writers and performers in this one who I admire the hell out of and who do great work. A friend involved already helpfully warned me off, not because it’s bad, but because in my current state it’s way too much.
But a show that has writing by, among others, Heather Meyer, Gemma Irish, Sam Landman, Tyler Mills, and Rachel Teagle; and performers like Charles Numrich, Victoria Pyan, Ben Tallen, and Clarence Wethern - damn, I really want to see that.
So I recommend it for you.
Because I can’t right now.
First show - Thursday, August 1, 2019, 5:30pm, Crane Theater
For a quick list of links to my other postings, check out my Top 10 and Top 11-20 new Fringe artists to check out for Fringe 2019. There's also Returning Favorites, and Fringe Shows I Just Can't Watch Right Now, but You Probably Should. If you want to keep me company, during my first Fringe without Mom, I'll be posting my schedule here. Also, here's some links if you want to hit all the Fringe 2019 blog posts, or see the full Fringe Archive from years past (just keep scrolling down, or hit the different years in the archive listing for the full blog on the right side of the screen and zero in on July and August)
Fringe 2019 - Top 20 - #20 - Carbon Man-Dating: A Climate Themed Gay Romantic Comedy - Lee Samuleson (aka, Community Power MN) - Augsburg Studio
Description: Climate activist groups form an online dating program to help their LGBTQ organizers build up a love life, piecing the profound intersectionality between both social movements into a quilt of nonstop laughs.
This show just had a combination of odd cross currents of the personal and political running through it that grabbed me. They’re local. And they’re trying something new. One challenge is that it’s a series of five shows on the overall topic (trying to “cross the streams,” if you will, of the artist’s dating and climate activist lives). They can be enjoyed individually, no matter which performance you see, but hopefully they also add up to a greater whole as a group. The More Information tab on their show page lays out which topics he’ll be focusing on which night. Might be worth a return trip, who knows? It’s all a little corny in a way that doesn’t turn me off, so I figure it’s worth a try.
Side note: I’m probably going to be seeing more queer content than usual this Fringe. Not because Mom wouldn’t see it with me, she was always up for any show - and got an eyeful sometimes. The general political and cultural climate (no pun intended) has me down lately. The Fringe has more queer content than I get a chance to see in theaters the rest of the year, so I try to stock up while I can. Right now, seeing queer stuff feels necessary and a bit more transgressive than it probably should. I want seeing queer theater to feel more normal and everyday again. So I’m going to keep pretending it is, until it is. But it doesn’t happen if you don’t go see it.
First show - Thursday, August 1, 2019, 8:30pm, Augsburg Studio
For a quick list of links to my other postings, check out my Top 10 and Top 11-20 new Fringe artists to check out for Fringe 2019. There's also Returning Favorites, and Fringe Shows I Just Can't Watch Right Now, but You Probably Should. If you want to keep me company, during my first Fringe without Mom, I'll be posting my schedule here. Also, here's some links if you want to hit all the Fringe 2019 blog posts, or see the full Fringe Archive from years past (just keep scrolling down, or hit the different years in the archive listing for the full blog on the right side of the screen and zero in on July and August)
Labels:
Fringe Archives 2019,
Fringe blogging,
Fringe Top 20
Fringe 2019 - Top 10 - #1 - A Tension To Detail - Gerard Harris (aka, That’s Enough Drama) - Ritz Mainstage
Description: From last year's Attention Seeker, a faster, funnier & better show about... everything. So if you like things, THIS IS THE SHOW FOR YOU "Reminiscent of Woody Allen in his early 60's standup years" Pioneer Press
I saw Gerard’s show Attention Seeker later in my schedule at last year’s Fringe and didn’t get a chance to write about it. But I did get a chance to chat with him at Can Can Wonderland on closing night of the festival, which was almost as entertaining as his show - which is to say, very entertaining and very funny. He promises on this year’s show page that A Tension To Detail will be faster, funnier and better - a high bar, in my opinion, but one I’m quite sure he can clear. He’s been lauded on the Fringe and comedy circuit across the UK, Canada and Australia. Smart, amusing comedy with a British accent. If you need some high-energy laughter to recharge your batteries, Gerard’s got you covered. I’m very much looking forward to seeing him on stage again.
Side note: For some reason, a writer at the Pioneer Press last year compared him to Woody Allen in his early 1960s standup days, which, I know was intended as a compliment but… can we just retire Woody Allen alongside Bill Cosby, please? Ew.
First show - Friday, August 2, 2019, 8:30pm, Ritz Mainstage
For a quick list of links to my other postings, check out my Top 10 and Top 11-20 new Fringe artists to check out for Fringe 2019. There's also Returning Favorites, and Fringe Shows I Just Can't Watch Right Now, but You Probably Should. If you want to keep me company, during my first Fringe without Mom, I'll be posting my schedule here. Also, here's some links if you want to hit all the Fringe 2019 blog posts, or see the full Fringe Archive from years past (just keep scrolling down, or hit the different years in the archive listing for the full blog on the right side of the screen and zero in on July and August)
Labels:
Fringe Archives 2019,
Fringe blogging,
Fringe Top 10
Dear 2019 Fringe, It’s Not You, It’s Me
This is just going to be a weird Fringe for me. And it’s very likely to effect what I see and the way I blog. So I feel like I need to provide a little context.
My mother visited me every summer for the last 16 years very specifically at this time of year so she could spend time with me and binge on a whole lot of theater in the space of a week. My mother loved the Minnesota Fringe Festival, and if the outpouring of support over the last couple of months is any indication, the Fringe loved her right back.
At the end of April, mom was admitted to the hospital back in Pennsylvania, where she lives with my brother. I flew back to be with them for a couple of months as we sorted out what we thought was the beginning of her medical odyssey.
By mid-May, she had been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor.
By the end of May, she had been moved into a rehabilitation facility, while also undergoing radiation and chemotherapy to buy her more time.
I returned to Minnesota for the last week and a half of June, planning to return on a monthly basis, starting at the end of July, for however many months (they were projecting six to twelve at the time of diagnosis) she had left.
It took several different discussions with her doctors before Mom finally had to recognize the fact that she wouldn’t be able to come to the Minnesota Fringe Festival this year. Her radiation treatments would just have been concluded toward the end of July, and it would take several weeks for her energy level to bounce back. I was planning to consult with her throughout the month of July about my Fringe-going schedule, check in daily about my Fringe adventures during the festival itself, and then create a scrapbook for her, like the ones she created each year after her visits, full of programs and tickets and pictures and reviews.
It was hard to guess which Fringe would be sadder, this one, where she wanted to but couldn’t be present because of her health, or next year, when she’d very likely be gone.
Turns out we get to cram both of those experiences together into one, this year.
Due to complications, Mom died quite suddenly and unexpectedly on July 1st.
Three weeks ago today.
So… yeah.
The first round of Fringe previews last Monday were hard to get through. But as I suspected, I felt better going, than not going. I felt closer to Mom at a Fringe event than I did just sitting at home by myself.
So I’m back again tonight for round two of the previews.
But there are just shows this year that, in any other year I’d be right there watching them, but this year I’m getting very clear indications from the pit in my stomach that I would not be a good audience member.
So my show selection is markedly different this year.
I’ll try to keep the “Mom would have loved this” comments to a minimum in actual reviews. I’ll restrict the liberal use of that phrase to these upcoming pre-Fringe blog postings this week.
Because I was otherwise engaged the first half of July, again back in Pennsylvania, I’m a little behind the eight ball in my Fringe prep.
But I’ve got a Top 10/Top 20 list figured out, and I’ve got a list of returning favorites, and the beginnings of an actual schedule. So there’s stuff to talk about.
So I might as well get started.
Just… consider the source.
And thanks for understanding.
For a quick list of links to my other postings, check out my Top 10 and Top 11-20 new Fringe artists to check out for Fringe 2019. There's also Returning Favorites, and Fringe Shows I Just Can't Watch Right Now, but You Probably Should. If you want to keep me company, during my first Fringe without Mom, I'll be posting my schedule here. Also, here's some links if you want to hit all the Fringe 2019 blog posts, or see the full Fringe Archive from years past (just keep scrolling down, or hit the different years in the archive listing for the full blog on the right side of the screen and zero in on July and August)
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
Thanks to those who remain anonymous, for helping us in our time of need
It's been a week since Mom's memorial service.
I've been back in Minneapolis since last Friday afternoon.
I'm getting back to the previous "To Do" list, alongside the new one since her death, checking off one item at at time.
Today, I wanted to reach out to all the Go Fund Me donors, who made my extended time with Mom in May and June possible. As it turns out, those were our last days together, though none of us knew that at the time.
I had emails for nearly everyone, and could reach out via Facebook to a handful more that I didn't have current email addresses for.
That left just one group unreached: the eight anonymous donors.
Eight people gave and didn't desire any recognition.
But they deserve thanks all the same. They made my time with Mom possible in her final days, just as much as those whose names I know.
A good rule of thumb would be to try to live my life in general as if everyone I encounter could be those eight anonymous supporters.
Treat everyone as if they were an anonymous donor to your Go Fund Me campaign, during the darkest time in your life, when the need was greatest.
So here's the email you would have gotten from me, if I knew who you were, and how to reach you:
"Thanks so much for your support of me and my family in this difficult time through the Go Fund Me campaign.
Though we thought that the treatment was going to buy us more time, due to unexpected complications, my mother Beverlee died on July 1st.
I had only just been back at my jobs in Minneapolis for a week and a half, and had just started to send out thank you notes to the Go Fund Me donors, when the unfortunate news of her passing scrambled the schedule again.
Now, even more than before, I appreciate your gift in a whole new light. Your gift gave me the ability to spend more time in Pennsylvania, supporting Mom during her time in the hospital and transition to rehab, radiation and chemotherapy. Money literally bought me more time with her, which she greatly appreciated. And now that extra time with her takes on even greater significance, as they were our last days together.
Your support also allowed me to share some of the burdens with my brother Mark, taking care of the financial and medical paperwork that needed doing (and which I will continue to assist with remotely now when I return again to Minnesota, as we will need to sell the house and settle Mom’s accounts). Those weeks we had, due to your gift, made a big difference being able to advocate for Mom and her care, face-to-face with people on site. Those contacts made this new phase of remote work more possible.
In addition to allowing me to stay longer in Pennsylvania with Mom and my brother, your contribution also helped pay for Lyft rides to and from the Parkhouse Nursing and Rehab facility on days when my brother Mark was at work and I was without a vehicle. It allowed me to visit and support Mom on a daily basis. Again, your money bought us precious time together.
Your support also enabled me to rent a moving truck, and pay for assistance in the loading and unloading of the vehicle. It allowed me to load up the family piano that Mom and I had been working the last couple of years to figure out a way to transfer from her home to mine. The truck also carried Mom’s files - so I can continue to do the work of managing her finances and medical paperwork back in Minneapolis. The truck also preserved and transported Mom’s biblical reference library, and helped me finally clear out the last of a storage closet in the loft back at home (all the stuff that didn’t make the cut for the original trip out to Minneapolis to start my life there; and needed to be cleared out to help prepare for the sale of the house).
It means a great deal to me (and the family) that you helped make all this possible. You helped lighten the load we carry in this dark time, and focus on the quality of the time we had left together.
Fair warning, the next time I see you, I’ll probably end up crying. I hold it together pretty well until someone does something nice for us - whether that be a kind word, a card, a prayer, food, or, in this instance, financial support that made all of these logistics less daunting. Then I’m a puddle in short order. It’s hard to type this without crying, to be honest.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for making a terrible time for our family just a little bit easier to bear.
We’ll never be able to adequately express how much your support means to all three of us.
On behalf of Mom and my brother Mark, and of course myself, thank you again."
I've been back in Minneapolis since last Friday afternoon.
I'm getting back to the previous "To Do" list, alongside the new one since her death, checking off one item at at time.
Today, I wanted to reach out to all the Go Fund Me donors, who made my extended time with Mom in May and June possible. As it turns out, those were our last days together, though none of us knew that at the time.
I had emails for nearly everyone, and could reach out via Facebook to a handful more that I didn't have current email addresses for.
That left just one group unreached: the eight anonymous donors.
Eight people gave and didn't desire any recognition.
But they deserve thanks all the same. They made my time with Mom possible in her final days, just as much as those whose names I know.
A good rule of thumb would be to try to live my life in general as if everyone I encounter could be those eight anonymous supporters.
Treat everyone as if they were an anonymous donor to your Go Fund Me campaign, during the darkest time in your life, when the need was greatest.
So here's the email you would have gotten from me, if I knew who you were, and how to reach you:
"Thanks so much for your support of me and my family in this difficult time through the Go Fund Me campaign.
Though we thought that the treatment was going to buy us more time, due to unexpected complications, my mother Beverlee died on July 1st.
I had only just been back at my jobs in Minneapolis for a week and a half, and had just started to send out thank you notes to the Go Fund Me donors, when the unfortunate news of her passing scrambled the schedule again.
Now, even more than before, I appreciate your gift in a whole new light. Your gift gave me the ability to spend more time in Pennsylvania, supporting Mom during her time in the hospital and transition to rehab, radiation and chemotherapy. Money literally bought me more time with her, which she greatly appreciated. And now that extra time with her takes on even greater significance, as they were our last days together.
Your support also allowed me to share some of the burdens with my brother Mark, taking care of the financial and medical paperwork that needed doing (and which I will continue to assist with remotely now when I return again to Minnesota, as we will need to sell the house and settle Mom’s accounts). Those weeks we had, due to your gift, made a big difference being able to advocate for Mom and her care, face-to-face with people on site. Those contacts made this new phase of remote work more possible.
In addition to allowing me to stay longer in Pennsylvania with Mom and my brother, your contribution also helped pay for Lyft rides to and from the Parkhouse Nursing and Rehab facility on days when my brother Mark was at work and I was without a vehicle. It allowed me to visit and support Mom on a daily basis. Again, your money bought us precious time together.
Your support also enabled me to rent a moving truck, and pay for assistance in the loading and unloading of the vehicle. It allowed me to load up the family piano that Mom and I had been working the last couple of years to figure out a way to transfer from her home to mine. The truck also carried Mom’s files - so I can continue to do the work of managing her finances and medical paperwork back in Minneapolis. The truck also preserved and transported Mom’s biblical reference library, and helped me finally clear out the last of a storage closet in the loft back at home (all the stuff that didn’t make the cut for the original trip out to Minneapolis to start my life there; and needed to be cleared out to help prepare for the sale of the house).
It means a great deal to me (and the family) that you helped make all this possible. You helped lighten the load we carry in this dark time, and focus on the quality of the time we had left together.
Fair warning, the next time I see you, I’ll probably end up crying. I hold it together pretty well until someone does something nice for us - whether that be a kind word, a card, a prayer, food, or, in this instance, financial support that made all of these logistics less daunting. Then I’m a puddle in short order. It’s hard to type this without crying, to be honest.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for making a terrible time for our family just a little bit easier to bear.
We’ll never be able to adequately express how much your support means to all three of us.
On behalf of Mom and my brother Mark, and of course myself, thank you again."
Monday, June 03, 2019
Family Update: One Way You Can Help...
UPDATE 6/3/2019: Here's what the Go Fund Me campaign is helping me to do:
Mom's settled at Parkhouse Nursing and Rehabilitation - in order to keep that going, I need to finish filing her taxes, so I have part of the pile of paperwork resources necessary to apply for Medicaid (project 1); the house needs to be sold, so the house needs to be cleared out sooner rather than later, so I'll be here another two weeks sorting and packing to load up a rental truck to road trip back to Minnesota with me - there'll be professional help needed to get certain items loaded and unloaded, plus the cost of the truck, gas, an overnight in a hotel, etc. (project 2).
Mom's doing OK in her new surroundings, and the radiation treatments start next week, so that's a blessing - took us the whole month of May and nearly half of June to get there. Just a lot of work yet to do, to get from Pennsylvania back to Minnesota. The support work long distance to the family will, of course, continue (managing the finances, processing the paperwork, advocating for Mom's care over the phone, the sale of the house), but at least I'll be back at the two jobs earning money again.
Anything you can do to help, either spreading word of the campaign below, or throwing in a couple of bucks yourself, is appreciated.
All my thanks and gratitude to those who have given and helped spread the word so far. You've made me cry in a good way, for which I'm grateful. When the dust settles, I'll reach out personally with thanks to each of you. It means a lot.
Further details below:
ORIGINAL POST 5/21/2019: Feels a little weird to do this, to be honest, but this is the situation we're in.
I'm still in Pennsylvania helping my family deal with the fact that my mother has a brain tumor - which is inoperable, and even with treatment probably gives her at best 12 months.
Here's the Caring Bridge page on the situation: https://www.caringbridge.org/public/beverleeeverett
On top of mom's health, there's the finances, and the house, all of which need to be dealt with at once (oh, and yes, the grieving before, during and after, which most days I can't really allow myself to factor in or I couldn't function).
I'm going to need another week or so here to wrap my arms around the whole thing and get some systems in place. Then I will also need to return, probably once a month, to continue dealing in person with things that can't be done remotely by phone or online from Minnesota. So plane or train tickets, moving trucks, plus the lost income from my second job during those times away, where I've already used up what PTO I had (and where it's not possible for anyone to donate me theirs, much as they might want to).
So my friend Carolyn has set up this Go Fund Me campaign to help raise money to support me in getting these tasks accomplished.
Here's the link - https://www.gofundme.com/supporting-matthew-everett
I realize things are tough all over these days, so if you can't give, no worries. Just spreading the word of the campaign to others is helpful. Even words of support we've received have been enormously helpful. But if you can give, even a little, it's greatly appreciated.
(Photo, my brother Mark taking advantage of a sunny day while Mom was still at Phoenixville Hospital to get her outside for a bit)
Tuesday, May 07, 2019
Family Update: Good News, Bad News...
Dad, surprisingly, is still with us, doing his daily thing. Unfortunately, now Mom took a quite unexpected hit in the health department last week, so I'm back home in Pennsylvania, trying to help sort things out. There's a Caring Bridge site up for Mom - https://www.caringbridge.org/public/beverleeeverett. Check there for details. All good thoughts, wishes and prayers are welcome at this point.
Saturday, April 27, 2019
Review - Marjorie Prime - Prime Productions - A Better Production Than The Sript Deserves - 3 stars
I should get this out of the way up front. Prime Productions’ presentation of Jordan Harrison’s play Marjorie Prime is a better production than the script deserves. Director Elena Giannetti and her cast of four (which now that I think about it, weirdly feels like a cast of six since a couple of people are doing a very convincing job portraying two different characters with the same name and face) all do great work. Candace Barrett Birk, James Rodriguez, Laura Stearns and Andre Shoals all breathe more humanity and emotion into their characters than the script seems inclined to give them. The design team of Amy B. Kaufman (costumes), Michael P. Kittel (lights), Katie Korpi (sound), and Joseph Stanley (set) all work well together at creating a time not all that far removed from our own - just a few decades in the future. Everything looks just familiar enough and just different enough at the same time, that you buy the situation taking place. After all, the technology already exists today - our bank accounts and imagination just need to catch up. The future’s a lot closer than we think, which is part of Marjorie Prime’s point.
“I just don’t know why we have to keep each other alive for so long”
Prime Productions always puts on an impressive show. I was a big fan of their first outing, Little Wars (though after other theater critics pointed out the historical inaccuracies I was too ill-informed to catch myself, I was a bit chagrined). Their second production, Tira Palmquist’s Two Degrees, was a show I didn’t need to be embarrassed about after the fact - great (accurate) script (both logically and emotionally), and equally great performances and design. Unfortunately, a male playwright lets them down again here with Marjorie Prime - which is unexpected, because Marjorie Prime was short-listed for the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 2015. But the more I think about the script, the angrier it makes me. So, if you don’t care about me wrestling with my response to a troublesome text, and all you care about is good acting and a convincing world onstage, skip the rest of the review and go see Marjorie Prime. Prime Productions is a company worth supporting, and they always gather together a talented group of collaborators. This production is no different.
“Does it bother you that she’s talking to a computer, or a computer that’s pretending to be your dad?”
It pains me to lay the troubles of a production at the feet of the playwright, but there’s nowhere else to put the blame with Marjorie Prime. Fascinating idea, shoddy execution. In fact, the first problem is that there’s way too many ideas crammed into less than 90 minutes. Any single plot strand in this script could easily blossom into a full length play with two acts and an intermission. But the playwright doesn’t seem interested in doing any of the emotional homework for his characters. Marjorie Prime skims over the surface of topics like aging, memory, parenting, marriage, death, grieving, and suicide (you know, the little things) and doesn’t fully explore any of them. Most of the time, it feels like the playwright is just jerking the audience around, poking emotional sensitive spots (sometimes hard) and then moving swiftly on with little explanation and no resolution.
“I guess it’s a good thing we don’t have that button. We wouldn’t last very long.”
Marjorie (Candace Barrett Birk) has grown forgetful in her declining years and has moved in with her adult daughter Tess (Laura Stearns) and Tess’ husband Jon (Andre Shoals). The futuristic twist here is that Marjorie’s late husband Walter (James Rodriguez) has been recreated via computer program as a holographic projection to keep her company, and also to help jog her memory. Marjorie realizes that this version of Walter, known as Walter Prime, isn’t literally real. He’s built only of the memories Marjorie, Tess and Jon have given him, and he’s also a much younger version of Walter than Marjorie last saw in his real life. But he’s still comforting company to have around when Tess and Jon aren’t available.
“How much does she have to forget before she’s not your mom anymore?”
Widow Marjorie, a computer version of her late husband Walter, who is also Tess’ dead father. That trio right there has tons of potential to sift through, even without Jon in the mix. But we’ve barely established that scenario when the play is on to the next one.
“You were making a joke about the size of his penis, but also the ring.”
When Marjorie inevitably dies, and Tess needs some help coping with the transition, a Marjorie Prime is created, so Tess can try to work through some of her unresolved issues with her mother. But Marjorie Prime is only as useful as the knowledge you give her. If you’re selective in the memories you feed her, she can’t offer all the comfort you might need.
“You make us kill him all over again.”
I can tell you the exact moment Marjorie Prime lost me. Jon and Tess are having a painful argument that involves a number of unresolved family issues. And Jon up until this point has been just the type of supportive husband one might wish for in difficult times. But he suddenly says to Tess, essentially, your mom’s been dead a year, you can’t grieve forever.
Excuse me? A year? You’re getting impatient with your wife mourning her dead mother at the one year mark? Her father’s already dead. Now her mother is, too. The two people who knew her from before the moment she was born into her adulthood, her marriage, and the birth and raising of her own three children. People mourn short ill-fated relationships longer than a year. Some religious traditions don’t even put in a headstone on the gravesite until a year has passed. Not because mourning is over at that point, but because the grieving process is moving into a new phase.
“You can’t keep sifting through her letters and polishing her tea sets.” Uh, yeah she can, Jon. Yeah, she can. And it’s not even necessarily unhealthy if she does.
Either no one close to the playwright has ever died, or they’re not dealing honestly on the page with the human experience of grief. Either way, the play falls down a hole at this point and never climbs out.
“We both know what ‘no dishes’ means.”
Then it compounds this offense with an attitude toward aging that is truly baffling. It was already bad enough that thus far we only had poor Marjorie and her failing memory, sitting all alone in her room with only a computerized rewrite of her young husband for company, not seeing the point in eating anymore, as our sole representation of what getting older looks like. Then, in the middle of this argument where Tess is being told to just get over her grief already, Tess fires back with the assessment that now, in her mid-fifties, life is essentially over. Obviously, Tess is in pain, still feeling the loss of her mother. Also, Tess is estranged from her own adult daughter, and that clearly hurts her a great deal. But, up until just a few lines ago in the script, she appeared to be married to a caring spouse. Now there's no point in living. It's all downhill from middle age to death.
“She’s made of things we say to her.”
Tess is also haunted by the thought that perhaps she'd been just selfishly trying to keep Marjorie alive long past the point where her mother wanted to go. I get that. If you're dealing with end of life care for a loved one, that doubt constantly nags at you. Nurses regularly need to tell families, trust me, when they want to go, they'll go, there's nothing you can do to stop them. (If you've had friends who committed suicide, you realize that's true at any age.) But once you reach your fifties, your kids are grown and your parents are buried, you're just waiting to die? Seriously? That’s the message this play has for us? Because it doesn’t do anything to debate that assertion - that seems to be part of its thesis.
“For a while it was always Julia Roberts.”
I don't mean to make light of the existential crisis poor Tess is suffering through. But the playwright does. There's no counterargument for Tess' declaration because the playwright has refused to give her a life. We don't really get to see Tess' relationship with her mother, her father, her husband or her children. A litany of exposition and things that have happened offstage are reported to us, but we don't really get to see Tess engage with anyone or live her life. Same goes for any of the other characters, honestly. They might as well all be holographic copies of humans. There's no genuine human interaction here, despite the valiant efforts of the actors involved. Everyone's just hostage to a conceit to which the playwright has committed himself. They have no mind or heart or life of their own. They're barely programmed with enough memories by the playwright for us to buy them as human.
“I can help you, if you let me.”
I'm not going to dwell on the subject of suicide because God knows the playwright doesn't bother to, but I have to say that using something like suicide as little more than a plot device, then doing it more than once, and tossing the death of an animal on the pile for good measure, is cheap, manipulative, and disgusting.
“I’ll be right here, Marjorie. Whenever you need. We have all the time in the world.”
The thing is, Jordan Harrison is not a bad playwright. His biography is a well-earned exercise in name-dropping - pretty much every significant grant, fellowship, regional theater you could name, they're in there. I've seen two other plays he's written which were produced locally by theater companies I respect and admire. The guy knows how to create a theatrical premise. The guy knows how to write a telling line of dialogue. The guy knows the tricks that theater can do and he's adept at using them. Bad playwriting doesn't offend me nearly as much as lazy, careless playwriting does.
“Of course it helps that we want to believe.”
To top it all off, the final scene just made me realize that the rules of how the Primes work are never fully laid out. The scenario of that last conversation is intriguing, but the way it plays out just leaves you with more questions than answers. The more you try to figure out a way it would make sense, the less sense it makes. And it's completely devoid of actual humans, so in the end why should we care? I've got a little bit of the sci fi nerd in me. I want this premise to work, I really do. It's got so much potential. I'm willing to meet it more than halfway. But the writer can't be bothered.
“How nice that I could love somebody.”
Marjorie Prime is grappling with countless big, meaty issues related to life and death and the meaning of both. But it feels like the writer can't sit still long enough with any one situation or relationship in the play in order to explore them adequately. It's an intellectual exercise rather than a fully human, emotional one. And that's frankly a waste of everyone's time. You have live human beings on stage. Let them be human. Let us see ourselves in the characters and their struggles. Let us feel. Don't just tell us how to feel, or push us into feeling something not fully earned, just because you can.
“Now penguins are all that’s left of them.”
I'm sure there are people who would argue with me strenuously about this. Certainly all the folks at Prime Productions found the play worthy of their time and investment, and they are using all the artistic muscle they have at their disposal to make the play work. To reiterate what I mentioned in passing at the beginning, the work by Candace Barrett Birk and Laura Stearns as both the human and Prime versions of Marjorie and Tess in particular is really great stuff. Subtle shadings of difference that, in conjunction with the way their castmates interact with the two different versions of them, are quite impressive. My hat's off to them and Elena Giannetti in her direction of them. They really get the most out of that dual character opportunity. And overall, Marjorie Prime is an admirable effort from a production standpoint. I just wish I could believe, as Prime does, that Marjorie Prime the script was worth the effort. See it for yourself, maybe you'll wonder what I'm getting so worked up about. As with all theater, your mileage may vary. (Marjorie Prime runs through May 19, 2019, on the Andy Boss Thrust Stage at Park Square Theatre)
3 Stars - Good Job
[Marjorie (Candace Barrett Birk) and Walter Prime (James Rodriguez) in Prime Productions' Marjorie Prime, photo by Devon Cox]
Thursday, April 18, 2019
Review - The Golden Record Project - Sandbox Theatre - Got Hope? Need Hope? - 5 stars
In 1977, NASA launched the two Voyager spacecraft off toward the far reaches of outer space. On board each Voyager was a record player and two golden records (one with visual instructions on how to the play the other, full of the sounds of the different peoples of Earth). This was our “hello” to any alien race who might find it and perhaps, by extension, us. Those two spacecraft are still out there, somewhere, today. 42 years later, in a little storefront space beyond uptown in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in the United States of America on planet Earth, Sandbox Theatre called a group of visual, musical and performing artists together to ponder what it all means in The Golden Record Project. That hopeful gesture by NASA has spawned an equally hopeful piece of theater, and you gotta be grateful for some hope wherever you find it.
You don’t need to know anything about the Golden Records in order to enjoy the project. The Sandbox studio space provides all the context you need to play along. It’s sort of part theater, part dance, part art exhibit, part audio visual trip down memory lane. All the artists involved in The Golden Record Project unabashedly geek out on the subject while also making it clear they understand (a little sheepishly) just how much they’re geeking out about it. Which just makes the whole thing seem that much more charming and sweet, and draws you in that much deeper.
Company members in white lab coats greet you at the door to what has been renamed the Standish-Ericsson Golden Record Preservation Society of the Twin Cities and Greater Metro Area (or S.E.G.R.P.S.T.C.G.M.A.) Museum. You are provided a lanyard with numbered badge (which will become important later) and allowed to wander anywhere that isn’t curtained off as you await the start of the tour/show. There’s a lot to see, and they give you time, but I’d urge you to budget yourself some extra time before and after the show to look around and interact with the exhibits. There’s much fun to be had. For example, there’s art on the walls inspired by the Golden Records. There’s also an iPod playing the full contents of the Golden Records which you can listen to on a number of old school headphones hanging nearby - feel free to flip through the tracks to get a sense of the scope of the sounds shared. Along one of the walls is a rendering of the solar system to give a sense of scale to the first part of the Voyagers’ journey. Models of the spacecraft hang in various spots throughout the space.
In the spirit of celebrating 20th century technology, there’s lots of old school tech to play with as you ingest information about the NASA project. A slide carousel and projection box, which you operate manually by pushing a button to advance the slides, provides a visual history of space travel, with accompanying music and narration on a cassette tape recorder with headphones sitting next to the projector. A VCR plays a video cassette with a message (recorded over an old episode of Oprah’s talk show) from NASA interns making the case for different musical tastes in compiling the golden records - where was Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors or Stevie Wonder’s Songs In the Key of Life? Helpful instructions for operation are affixed to clipboards, for those who haven’t used a VCR or slide projector in a while. More 21st century-style screens provide a video tribute to Carl Sagan - the noted astronomer who helped lead the project for NASA, and a primer to put both the vast stretches of distance and time involved in the Voyagers’ journey in a more understandable (and amusing) context.
Around the corner from the Carl Sagan Memorial Hallway, is a room that is outfitted more like an alien spaceship. Inside are more exhibits, including an animated depiction of the Voyagers’ journey from Earth through the rest of our solar system and on out into deep space. There’s also a Carl Sagan kit in the form of a briefcase which you are encouraged to root around in - peruse the items inside, and the contents of the folders and envelopes within. Not wanting to provide too many spoilers, I’ll just say if you search, there’s a little green man hiding in that briefcase who is quite adorable and made me chuckle.
Since there’s an opening, you can walk around the curtain separating the alien spaceship area from the final space at the back, a 1970s style room (complete with lava lamp) with lots of spaces to sit and lounge around (and more unusual books and such to take a peek at). During the pre-show time, you have the benefit of Theo Langason on guitar, singing his own compositions, and he can be heard throughout the “museum” so it makes for a nice atmosphere as people wander. And this is all *before* the “show” part of the evening kicks in.
After everyone gets at least a little bit of time to wander, a tour guide (Elizabeth Horab) gathers everyone in the entryway for a quick overview (about which she’s very enthusiastic). While this is going on, the rest of the team is preparing the studio behind us for the performance part of the evening. The attendees are then split into two groups, based on their badges, and ushered to their assigned seats in either the alien or the 1970s area. There are projections on the curtain between the two areas - of shadow, video and pictures - which both “rooms” can see. The action trades back and forth between the two areas, but even if the 1970s crowd can’t see the action being performed for the alien crowd next door, they can hear it, and vice versa. You might think such a setup would be frustrating or confusing, but the overall setting is so intimate, and everything is so clearly heard, that it works quite well. If anything, it makes you pay closer attention, and appreciate the little details you might otherwise miss.
In the 1970s, the Golden Record project’s other leader, Ann Druyan (McKenna Kelly-Eiding) is pitching the idea to NASA scientists and seeing it through to its fruition. In the alien environment, a cosmic junk collector named Kar-El (Ajuawak Kapashesit), who has his own interstellar YouTube-style video channel, comes into possession of the Golden Records but has no idea at first what they are or what to do with them. Druyan’s planning of the project vs. Kar-El’s perception of the project’s end result make for some amusing moments of miscommunication. Even when Kar-El discovers how to listen to the record, his interpretation of the contents don’t always match up with Druyan’s intent. There are interludes where our tour guide returns, and also a lovely moment where the curtain between the spaces goes away, and there is a kind of contact across space and time.
Project lead Kristina Fjellman and director Peter Heeringa have assembled a team of collaborators who together create a delightfully immersive environment for The Golden Record Project. The audience gets to spend just enough time taking in the full scope of the Voyager experiment that when the performance begins and takes it down to a more individual, human (alien) level, we don’t forget the larger universe in which it exists. In addition to the musician and performers, there’s also a team of fabrication/installation people (Nicole DelPIzzo, Holly Streekstra), one on fabrication and costumes (Mandi Johnson - and if it’s the 1970s, there must be macrame involved), four more billed as creation assistants (Evelyn Digirolamo, Megan Lagas, Henry (Hal) Ellen Sansone, and Heather Stone), and one on audio/installation (Morgan Schoonover). It’s easy to see the large team at work here, because every station throughout the museum is carefully crafted. There’s so much detail, in fact, that you’d be hard-pressed to process it all in a single sitting. Which is kind of the point. Sandbox wants to incite your curiosity on the subject, since there’s so much more out there to learn, and ponder.
And part of the larger question is not just how our world has changed in those forty-plus years that the Voyagers have been hurtling through space but, if we did something like this again, what would we send? What would be the representative sights and sounds we would use to sum up our lives and our world today? Could we be as hopeful? Could we find that common purpose, that unified voice? What would it say? What would we want other planets to hear about Earth? (If you’ve got an idea, the Standish-Ericsson Golden Record Preservation Society of the Twin Cities and Greater Metro Area would love to hear it. They have a number you can call (612-234-2402) and contribute to their new time capsule by recording your own message for the universe.)
Sandbox Theatre’s The Golden Record Project is a great way to get your head out of the day to day minutiae and small-minded concerns and really think bigger - like, “the entire universe and our place in it” bigger. And it really does leave you strangely hopeful, that such things happened, and are still happening, and could happen again. The Golden Record Project is an intimate, finely crafted, escape. It has all the trappings of some strange hybrid, but it really does what theater does at its best, create a new world and put you right in the middle of it.
The intimacy means it may be hard to get a ticket - they only take in 12 audience members per show (and some are already sold out), but I’d strongly urge people to try and get one of those spots in the remaining performances. If you need a little hope right now (and don’t we all?), The Golden Record Project really delivers. You’ll feel a little better about being a human, and about our chances for surviving. (Running now through May 4, 2019, at the Sandbox Theater studio space)
5 stars - Very Highly Recommended
Tuesday, April 02, 2019
Fair Warning: Rant Ahead -
I learned the other day that someone I knew drank themselves to death. Slowly, steadily, over a period of years, consumed so much alcohol that they destroyed their own body from the inside out.
And I am angry. Because I blame their parents.
This person was queer, and their parents did not accept them. They did not cut their child out of their life, but they did something that is arguably worse. They poisoned their child’s own mind against themselves.
Their constant disappointment and disapproval, their withholding of unconditional love for their child, crippled that child emotionally. That child never stopped hoping, never stopped trying, to reach those cold and distant parents. But that child could not be straight and didn’t try to be.
I hope it gave this person comfort that their family was with them at the end.
But I hope it gave the family no comfort.
Because they are responsible.
There are days when I wonder if I really need to keep writing queer stories, if we still need to hear them. And then I get news of bullsh*t like this.
You know when I’m going to feel like I can stop writing queer stories?
When parents stop killing their children.
Tuesday, March 19, 2019
Review - The Cradle Will Rock - Frank Theatre - I Want To Believe, I Really Do - 4.5 stars
It’s hard to think of a more perfect match of theater and material than Frank Theatre and their remount of the 1930s pro-union musical The Cradle Will Rock. Musical theater as a genre isn’t the first thing that would spring to my mind as a good fit for Frank, but The Cradle Will Rock is pretty much tailor-made for Frank Theatre’s brand of brazen political theatricality. Writer/composer Marc Blitzstein’s self-described “play with music,” born out of the Depression era WPA’s Federal Theater project, is more a product of the rhythm of words than catchy melodies. It’s challenging material, but director Wendy Knox, musical director (and accompanist) Sonja Thompson, and their talented ensemble is more than up to the task.
“You have no idea how it felt thinking there was a nickel under my foot.”
Set in a down on its luck Steeltown USA on the night of a big union vote by the steelworkers and other factory employees, the police are rounding up anyone who looks like potential trouble. Mr. Mister (John Cutler), the big businessman in town, is trying to keep the workers from combining their collective power into a union that would challenge his control over them. So he’s used his influence over the cops to try and break up any gatherings of people. The sweep misfires, however, and scoops up the newly formed Liberty Committee of influential citizens who are already very much under Mr. Mister’s sway. They had gathered to disrupt the union organizer’s speech and ended up in jail instead.
“I belong with those people. I sold out, too. I sold out my boy, and two others with him.”
The union organizer, Larry Foreman (Carl Schoenborn), is getting a very thorough interrogation himself. Meanwhile, a part-time streetwalker Moll (Kate Beahen), who sells her body so she can eat on the days her regular part-time job isn’t earning her money for food, is also in a holding cell. She finds herself sharing a bench with Harry Druggist (JP Fitzgibbons), a pharmacist who’s turned to the bottle after losing both his drug store and his son Stevie (David Wasserman) in the same horrible accident.
“Where is the man who made the speech?!”
Harry recounts for Moll all the many stories that prove each member of the supposedly upstanding Liberty Committee has prostituted themselves far more that Moll ever has. The man they all sacrificed their virtues to was Mr. Mister, or a member of his extended wealthy family - wife Mrs. Mister (Molly Sue McDonald), and their children Junior Mister (Sasha Andreev) and Sister Mister (Chelsie Newhard). The good Reverend Salvation (Joe Nathan Thomas) is persuaded by generous donations to preach either against or in favor of going to war, depending on what’s good for business. Newspaper Editor Daily (Bob Beverage) provides favorable news coverage to the paper’s new owner Mr. Mister, as well as getting Junior out of town on assignment. Dr. Specialist (also Sasha Andreev) doctors some medical reports as necessary for various cover-ups. Artists in search of a patron, Dauber (Hector Chavarria) and Yasha (Scotty Reynolds), suffer the attentions (and artistic pretensions) of the rich in order to get their cash. And college President Prexy (Gillian Constable) finds a suitable academic shill for Mr. Mister’s pet causes in order to secure funds for education. (The ensemble of cops, reporters and other citizens is rounded out by Maria Asp, Thalia Kostman, Cameron Reeves and Allison Witham.)
“It seems that peace may be a little expensive.”
And, mind you, these flashbacks and present day unrest all take place through singing. Which is nuts, and kind of dazzling to watch them all pull off in just 90 minutes. The one real challenge of the piece is its allegorical nature. You can tell by the names of characters above that everyone’s an archetype. They’re not quite real people. Blitzstein isn’t interested in exploring the depths of psychological realism. He doesn’t care how these people got to be who they are, they just are. This is the mess that Steeltown, USA is in - now what are we going to do to fix it? That’s what matters. So on some level you have to find a way to force yourself to care about these characters, because they’re not going to meet you halfway and try to invite your sympathy and attention.
“Junior, please don’t get arrested.”
This alien, not quite human quality is reinforced by the design. Kathy Kohl’s costumes set the period, and allow for quick changes for those playing multiple roles, including the full ensemble in the rousing final number. But nearly everyone in the cast, particularly the well-to-do “higher class” characters sport facial makeup that is severe and deliberately almost clownish in design. The working class, down on their luck types are allowed a more human aspect. While it’s a useful way to distinguish the two classes, I wonder if it undercuts part of the point of the play.
“Union trouble ain’t no news in this burg.”
If your villains are so cartoonish they don’t seem real, doesn’t that let the rest of humanity off the hook a little too easily. The monsters here are human. Yes, the seduction of money turns them into something less than civilized, but it’s harder to put ourselves in their place, it’s harder to acknowledge the danger of being lured into apathy, compromise, or self-interest ourselves, if we can’t see ourselves in the full cast of characters. It might be stacking the deck even more on one side of the argument than Blitzstein already does in the text/lyrics. Certainly the actors all inject humanity into their characters as much as possible. But on the one hand, the script is fighting them, and it’s hard not to play into stereotypes when you’re outfitted that way. I have to hand it to the Frank creative team for going for it, fully embracing Blitzstein’s vision. But part of me wonders if they should have fought him, just a little bit.
“They won’t pay us for our bodies so we’ll sell out in some other way.”
Frank Theater mounted Cradle once before, in 2003. George W. Bush was in his first term. The Afghanistan and Iraq Wars had just started. Barack Obama hadn’t made that big speech at the Democratic National Convention yet. The 2008 recession was still a few years off. And we didn’t have our current president. So, this production is definitely taking place in a radically different context, with a different resonance. Corruption and wars have certainly always been with us in one form or another. We’ve always needed people to band together for the greater good, pushing back against the negative actors of the world. There’s a reason big business (and corrupt government officials) spend so much time and money trying to break workers’ unions. Unions are the most powerful tool the working person has to take back power and fight for a better life, for all of us. The fascinating thing about The Cradle Will Rock is that even though it’s very clear-eyed about the rot at the center of society’s ills, it still fervently believes that people with good intentions can beat back the darkness and build a better world, no matter how dark that darkness gets. In 90 minutes of singing, they almost make me believe that, too. I want to believe. I really do.
“When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.”
If you need a jolt of righteous anger bound up with relentless optimism in its closing number, The Cradle Will Rock is just as perfect a piece of theater for you as it is for the folks at Frank. You should treat yourself. Frank Theatre presents The Cradle Will Rock at the Gremlin Theater space, now through April 7, 2019.
4.5 stars - Very Highly Recommended
(Photo: Junior Mister (Sasha Andreev) does his little happy dance as Editor Daily (Bob Beverage), Sister Mister (Chelsie Newhard) and Mr. Mister (John Cutler) look on, in Frank Theatre's production of The Cradle Will Rock; photography: Tony Nelson)
Saturday, March 02, 2019
Review - The Monica Meditations / Brandi Alexander - A Me, Too Double Feature - 4.5 stars
It’s honestly hard to know where to start in discussing the double bill of one-woman shows, The Monica Meditations, conceived and performed by Paige Collette, and Brandi Alexander, conceived and performed by Tatiana Pavela, with Maggie Rogers in the director’s chair. I guess I should start by saying you should see them, though it’s a one weekend only run so depending on when you read this, it may already be too late (final performance is 10pm tonight, Saturday 3/2). But as with previous Paige Collette outings I’ve seen - including a collaborative two-person show with Pavela, Buttercream and Scotch; as well as Bitter Victory, Sweet Defeat; and Food Blog - it’s always worth getting a marker down, to see where she is, and perhaps where she’s headed.
“What if, when I told him I had a crush on him, he just said ‘Thank you. I’m flattered. Have a good night’?”
Collette’s half of the evening is up first, excavating the late 1990s scandal of Bill Clinton’s extramarital affair with Monica Lewinsky - when he was President of the United States, and she was a White House intern. Clinton was 49, married, the father of a 15 year old teenage daughter; Lewinsky was 22. It was a wildly imbalanced power dynamic between the two, and though both parties claim the relationship was consensual, c’mon, the man knew better. And everyone involved, including the country, deserved better. These are The Monica Meditations, however, so Monica is front and center and Bill is only an offstage supporting player seen through Monica’s eyes, and a brief slide show that appears toward the end of Monica’s time on stage.
“And because my pre-frontal cortex wasn’t fully formed yet, I was very young, and I believed him.”
The main challenge here is the notion of shared history, or the lack of it, in the audience. I imagine some people in the audience weren’t alive, or at best were barely toddlers, when it all happened twenty odd years ago. Monica asks for a show of hands at the beginning to gauge audience knowledge of the story. It was a mixed bag. People who lived through it the first time probably come in with a pre-existing opinion of Monica. Those that didn’t may be wondering what the significance of that cigar as a prop is all about.
“For this recipe, we need a wide mouthed jar. Let’s face it, I’ve been called worse.”
The piece is operating on a couple of different levels - there’s Monica talking to the audience and walking us through the affair’s high and low points, and the timeline of how it all erupted into a national scandal; there’s Monica commenting on the existence of the show itself, and Paige the actress’ obsession with the story. At the very start there are some Paige Collette moments with the audience, trying to set up a framework for the storytelling yet to come. And there are moments when Collette breaks off, casually dons a blond wig on top of her brunette wig, on top of her already brunette hair, and does a schticky home shopping network routine involving items related to the affair, now for sale to the general public.
“Now I’m gonna make a Waldorf salad and talk about Linda Tripp.”
This being a Paige Collette creation, there is also, of course, the incorporation of food and drink, and the preparation of same. It makes for some vivid images. Collette pulls her ingredients throughout the night from the myriad of bright blue gift bags scattered around the stage topped off with red wrapping paper. A handful of red roses appear, then acquire a vase and some water. Monica clutches this vase close to her chest as she recounts her tale. Later Diet Coke makes an appearance, and she pours that into the vase as well, and then *drinks the Diet Coke from the vase of roses*. The color and creamy consistency of homemade mayonnaise is best not dwelt on too long. Later it provides the dressing to a Waldorf salad which, mixed in a big plastic bin with a signature blue dress, provides a necessary stain to drive the ill-fated plot forward.
“[The dress] was from the GAP, because this was a true American love story.”
Non-food props, such as the blue dress, take their place in the narrative as well. Some props are amusing - that blond wig dropped on the floor to represent her false friend Linda Tripp; some strangely apropos, with modern echoes - passages from Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass; and some vaguely unsettling - the casual use of an American flag in several configurations made me a bit uncomfortable (probably on purpose). And then there’s the sentimental - dance numbers at the beginning and end involving Monica’s long flowing brunette wig on a foam head, and the quickly unraveling duet with a man’s shirt and tie, and the chair they sit on. The skill of Collette as Lewinsky is that she’s so convincingly lost control physically as a character by the end, you almost think the actress may have lost control of her dance as well. But it’s clear in the smaller details that the mess is a controlled and intentional mess.
“They say every rose has its thorn. But will a rose record 20 hours of your phone conversations without telling you?”
Does the piece depend a little too much on some of the pop ballads from the time to do the heavy emotional lifting? Maybe a little. But in context, Sarah McLachlan’s Do What You Have To Do is always going to take up a lot of space in the room, no matter how you deploy it. It’s almost impossible to invoke Aerosmith’s I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing unironically anymore. And despite the fact that a young Monica sang it in a school talent competition, anything from Le Miz, especially On My Own, is going to feel used up and worn out in a theatrical context. Though even here, particularly when she bellows a line or two away from the audience and directly into the wall of the Bryant Lake Bowl theater and we can still hear her perfectly, Collette almost wrings something new out of the use of that show tune. I also understand that the music is trying to reinforce the core of the performance, which is the hardest thing to hang onto - even with everything that happened, there’s a part of Lewinsky that hurts because it really did mean something to her at the time. And when Collette is getting some genuine emotion from Lewinsky’s dual betrayal, first by the man she was involved with, then by the supposed friend she confided in who recorded their phone calls and turned her over to the feds, it makes me want to spend more time with her, not less. Maybe clearing out some of the filler could give that exploration more room to maneuver, and deepen.
“I’m sorry if I offended anyone with the use of the word feminist.”
Tatiana Pavela’s titular alter ego Brandi Alexander may be a fictional creation, but her presence is no less compelling onstage than Lewinsky. She may almost be too compelling for some people to take - and believe it or not, that’s a compliment. The insert in the program with a heart next to it warns that the second half of the evening “contains strong themes of sexual assault” and if folks are overwhelmed by this at any point, they can feel free to step out. Sexual assault, of course, is a more genteel term for rape. The word rape gets a real workout during this performance. Good luck keeping track with the number of times Brandi says, or sings, the word. And it never loses the power to shock or discomfit you because Pavela’s performances makes sure to inform the word with its full meaning whenever she uses it.
“It’s an idea that’s years ahead of its time, like the notion of equal pay, or consent.”
There are some confusing things about Brandi Alexander, and I think Pavela might get more of the responses she’s looking for if she cleared a few of them up. For instance, by the time we’re well into the performance, we become certain that Brandi is a stand-up comic. That’s not entirely clear right from the start, and as a result, the audience is a little unclear about the way they’re supposed to engage her. Her entrance is almost dance like, and her introductory remarks could just as easily be the preface to the first song of a cabaret act. Because song figured so prominently in the first half of the double bill, we’ve been primed for anything. In isolation, Brandi being a stand-up comic might have been more of a given assumption. A couple of straight up jokes (dark and uncomfortable in content would still work) might have made Brandi’s purpose and occupation more quickly understood. Plus, Minnesota audiences are naturally reticent and shy. We need a lot of permission to feel we can speak up, or even laugh. More explicit cues, to go with the explicit content, might have helped at the start.
“Why did the chicken cross the road?”
Because the whole point of Brandi’s act is to take the format stand-up comedy and make it something that you find yourself wondering if you should laugh at. If you get us laughing at first, and then we start to wonder, that serves Brandi’s purpose more. Wait, should I be laughing at that after all? Is it OK? Am I a horrible person to find this funny? This is no laughing matter. Yet Brandi begs and almost demands that you laugh at appalling things. She’s laughing, sure it’s terrifying but lighten up already, join in the amusement at the horrible behavior of men. And it’s not hatred of all men, just the ones who rape, and rape is a common right of passage for men and women in this world she’s invited us into - a world not divorced from our own reality. She’s most interested in destroying the reputation of her own rapist - a fellow comedian who, well, what do you know, he’s the main act she’s opening up for this evening with her set. In the midst of this, Brandi has a song - which is basically just the word rape repeatedly musically, then growled and screamed while she grinds around on the floor, evolving for a moment into (I kid you not) the melody line for the Star-Spangled Banner. There is also an amazing sequence - sharp as a razor and very tightly written - where Brandi keeps answering the age-old joke set-up, “Why did the chicken cross the road?” with strategies women use to avoid being raped. (Because there were streetlights on the other side, because there was a group of men approaching, because there was a bodega on the corner over there and they’d be more likely to hear her when she screamed, etc.). Great stuff.
“Why aren’t any of them in prison?”
Suspension of disbelief is sometimes difficult with Brandi because in her own words, she considers herself old and fat and ugly. And the actress is none of those things. Are Collette and Pavela skinny little stick figure fashion runway models? No, but honestly how many of us are? And they are not obese by any stretch of the imagination. By most people’s objective standards they would be considered “regular,” attractive human beings. “Normal,” if you will. Now, given Monica and Brandi’s body issues, sense of shame and even self-loathing over what happened to them, and what their willing or unwilling part in it was, that very well may be coloring the way they present themselves to us. And that disconnect may be something else we’re supposed to sit with and think over. But that point is a little fuzzy, and in Brandi’s case the self hatred is so present in nearly every self-deprecating joke that you worry just a little bit about the line between performer and subject. And again, that unsettling audience experience may be exactly what Alexander and her creator are aiming for. So I may well be asking for relief she doesn’t plan to give me.
“The male equivalent of the little black dress.”
This being a one woman show, the audience also realizes that even though he waits just offstage in the reality of Brandi’s world, we will never meet her fellow comedian and rapist. Since that’s the set-up, part of me really wanted those lights not to go out quite so quickly at the end. Brandi has turned her set into a scathing indictment of the man waiting just offstage. They have not tried to turn out the lights on her, to play her off with music or send out security to take her by force from the stage. No one has stopped her. So she clearly has the upper hand. I sort of wanted Pavela to give it one last twist of the knife, to dare the man to take the stage away from her when she was done. “Come on out, man. They’re all waiting for you. Take the stage, the spotlight is yours. Enjoy.” It’d be a small victory, but I think Brandi, and the audience, have earned it.
“Let it simmer - like a night of regret. Soon it’ll be stinking up the whole place.”
The Monica Meditations and Brandi Alexander give an audience a lot of things to laugh and then think twice about. Here’s to Collette and Pavela for bringing us these stories. And here’s to them finding a way to hang around longer next time. The final performance is tonight, Saturday, March 2nd at the Bryant Lake Bowl.
4.5 stars - Very Highly Recommended
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