I don’t know how many plays about George Bush I’ve seen but I’m tired of them. Of course, the only one I can think of ever having seen, Theater Oobleck’s “The Strangerer,” I loved. Maybe what I’m tired of are the same old complaints about America under Bush. I pretty much agree with all the criticism but it’s all so obvious that I want to cover my ears when someone starts.
Enter the world premier of Richard Nelson's “Conversation in Tusculum,” set in the countryside outside of Rome at the height of Juluis Caesar’s reign. Against the advice of the smartest men in Rome, some of them who had been very close to him, Caesar continuously takes the country to war with little provocation. He believes in preemptive strikes. Being at war constantly, Caesar is able to manipulate the Romans to relinquish their civil freedoms and the country no longer operates as a republic. This stifling atmosphere is loathed by enough citizens and embraced by enough that the country is bitterly divided. Surrounded by a small group of advisors, no one can get to Caesar to give him what they think of as sane advice. These men and women who have been living in the countryside get drunk and recount their betrayal by Caesar and wax philosophical about the country going to hell. They worry that the nature of the republic has changed so much that it may be beyond the point of repair. Yet, they want to see the humanity restored to their great nation.
This is the kind of play that is very short on plot. Rather, its concern is to analyze the condition of America and it does so through allegory. I found it fascinating and spot on. In a way, as a bit of analysis, it doesn’t say that much that we don’t already know. But because it is an allegory, it is more interesting because it reflects who we are rathen than being didactic. Plus, it focuses not on Bush, but on the thoughts and feelings of those of us who have tried to oppose him. At one point, Brutus goes to Rome to meet Caesar, hoping that Caesar is tired from all the wars and lonely as the result of his isolation. Brutus believes that Caesar might once again consider him a friend and that he will then have power as an insider and can help save the republic. It becomes clear, though, that Caesar won’t allow that to happen and he tells Brutus that while he and others are having conversations in Tusculum, Caesar is at least being decisive. He may be wrong, he tells Brutus, but at least he’s acting. Sound familiar? Horribly defeated, Brutus goes back to the countryside and writes a short play. He asks an actor to put on the play, explaining that through theater we can safely say things that we cannot say directly. The actor, speaking Brutus’ words, recounts Caesar’s horrible deeds and announces that for those reasons, he will assassinate Caesar. This ending is fascinating, partly because it serves as a kind of wish fulfillment for many Americans (and perhaps as catharsis of a kind) and because it’s a moment when the play, which has been serving as a metaphor, becomes history again.
The cast features some of our finest American theater actors, including Brian Denehy and Adrian Quinn. The set is sparse, without being minimalist. Everything in this production drives forward the ideas in the play rather than being elaborate.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
"Sunday In the Park With George" at Roundabout Theater on Feb. 24, NY, NY
People like to say that they hate musicals. Sometimes it’s because the music is too stylized or lacks any vigor or because it’s silly to think of people talking and then suddenly breaking into song. I myself usually dislike musicals – mostly because the music tends to be dull and repetitive, the acting overdone and lacking any emotion or subtlety, and the stories silly, flat, and sentimental. One of the reasons I love Sondheim is because his music is complicated and fresh, even decades after hearing it for the first time. Now that opera houses are doing “Sweeney Todd,” people who at first didn’t, for whatever reason, hear the innovative and complex emotion in those songs are giving him another look and we’re seeing a wave of revivals. As for those who can’t get past the fact that people are singing dialogue, well, I just can’t make sense of that. Music is just one way of conveying emotion. It’s a stylistic device, like any in a number of such devices used in good theater or film. (Of course, people who LOVE!!! musicals can seem to lack any judgment and perhaps the force of their enthusiasm annoys the rest of us.)
The plot of “Sunday in the Park with George” revolved aroun the relationship between the late 19th century painter George Seurat and his fictional model, Dot, who appears in his famous painting “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of Le Grande Jatte.” Seurat loves Dot but his compulsion to paint leads him to ignore her constantly. Plus, while he loves Dot, he cannot bring himself to tell her how musch he does. During an argument, Seurat tells Dot that she knows exactly how he feels and that he shouldn’t have to say it. Dot responds that he might be feeling many things and that she cannot know exactly what he feels if he doesn’t tell her. Pregnant with his child but knowing that she cannot get what wants from Seurat, she marries a baker and moves with him to the United States. Dot has a child named Marie and Marie’s son gives birth to another artist named George. Like Seurat, this George is also interested in blazing forth new directions in art, especially in the study of color and light, and unable to speak of his feelings. We see him at a museum reception for donors, where his ex-wife is keeping Marie company, and we know that he has lost her for the same reason.
The music in “Sunday in the Park with George” is particularly difficult to sing plus requires excellent acting to properly convey the emotion of the songs. The leads in this new production handle both excellently. They are both deft with Sondheim’s music, which often call for very fast singing. There are three songs in this play that I find especially moving. One is “Finishing the Hat,” in which Seurat realizes he’s going to lose Dot because he’s decided to stay in and finish painting the hat that she wears in the painting. In it, he sings about what he sacrifices in order to paint, aware that he’s looking at the thing he loves as he’s losing it. Another is Dot’s song, “We Do Not Belong Together,” in which she realizes that although she loves George it is better for her to leave him and go to America. And, finally, a song that George’s mother sings lamenting the loss of the tress on the island and the changes that modernity brings. Upset about the loss of the natural landscape and complaining about the construction of the Eifel Tower, which she considers a poor substitute for a tree, George tries to reassure her that everything is beautiful because someone has made it and that she only needs to look at them in a new way. Unconvinced, she ends the song by saying wistfully, “Oh Georgie, how I long for the old days.”
The direction in this production is careful and smart. The music is as wonderful and moving as ever. The illustrations of Seurat’s painting are made through computer graphics. The walls in the production are all white and as Seurat speaks instructions, we see his brush strokes materialize on the white walls. Seurat, of course, loves these white walls because he sees in them the possibilities of what he will create. A special challenge for a director comes in the second act, which has always seemed disjointed. The action taking place in the 1980’s can seem underdeveloped and less moving than those taking place in the 1880’s. This production connects the two acts by showing what making art is and means to the two Georges and by giving the contemporary George a moment of recognition and catharsis that seems to be cut off by Seurat. In the first act, after witnessing George not being able to tell Dot that he loves her and failing to take care of her, we see the attention he pays to her in his painting. He messes endlessly with the hat, with her bustle, with the monkey she has on a leash. He takes great care, in fact, in how he places everyone and everything in the painting. As we see his care for composition, we see how George experiences and conveys his love for those around him. Later, we see the 1980’s George at a donor reception as he schmoozes the individual donors, the people who might commission a piece, the curator who might give him a museum show, the critic who has the power to shape opinions about his work and future, and the artistic collaborators without whom he can’t make his pieces. This is how art is made in the 1980’s, a kind of composition that is very different than what Seurat had to deal with. Finally, the show ends when the 1980’s George goes to the island where Seurat’s painting was created and sees how the landscape has changed. It’s almost unrecognizable, except for the curving lines of the river, which we recognize from the painting, and one tree that still remains. George sits on a park bench and breaks into tears, recognizing how much he misses Marie, conflating Marie with his mother in the first act. This emotional outpouring is something that Seurat would not have done and we take a little hope that this George might change the direction of his emotional life.
I could go on and on but I won’t, except to say that this is as good a production as I’ve ever seen and perhaps even more carefully directed, or at least somehow more intimate, than the original production. And while I can’t help hearing Bernadette Peters and Mandy Patikin when I hear these songs in my head, I did largely forgot them as I watched this production.
The plot of “Sunday in the Park with George” revolved aroun the relationship between the late 19th century painter George Seurat and his fictional model, Dot, who appears in his famous painting “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of Le Grande Jatte.” Seurat loves Dot but his compulsion to paint leads him to ignore her constantly. Plus, while he loves Dot, he cannot bring himself to tell her how musch he does. During an argument, Seurat tells Dot that she knows exactly how he feels and that he shouldn’t have to say it. Dot responds that he might be feeling many things and that she cannot know exactly what he feels if he doesn’t tell her. Pregnant with his child but knowing that she cannot get what wants from Seurat, she marries a baker and moves with him to the United States. Dot has a child named Marie and Marie’s son gives birth to another artist named George. Like Seurat, this George is also interested in blazing forth new directions in art, especially in the study of color and light, and unable to speak of his feelings. We see him at a museum reception for donors, where his ex-wife is keeping Marie company, and we know that he has lost her for the same reason.
The music in “Sunday in the Park with George” is particularly difficult to sing plus requires excellent acting to properly convey the emotion of the songs. The leads in this new production handle both excellently. They are both deft with Sondheim’s music, which often call for very fast singing. There are three songs in this play that I find especially moving. One is “Finishing the Hat,” in which Seurat realizes he’s going to lose Dot because he’s decided to stay in and finish painting the hat that she wears in the painting. In it, he sings about what he sacrifices in order to paint, aware that he’s looking at the thing he loves as he’s losing it. Another is Dot’s song, “We Do Not Belong Together,” in which she realizes that although she loves George it is better for her to leave him and go to America. And, finally, a song that George’s mother sings lamenting the loss of the tress on the island and the changes that modernity brings. Upset about the loss of the natural landscape and complaining about the construction of the Eifel Tower, which she considers a poor substitute for a tree, George tries to reassure her that everything is beautiful because someone has made it and that she only needs to look at them in a new way. Unconvinced, she ends the song by saying wistfully, “Oh Georgie, how I long for the old days.”
The direction in this production is careful and smart. The music is as wonderful and moving as ever. The illustrations of Seurat’s painting are made through computer graphics. The walls in the production are all white and as Seurat speaks instructions, we see his brush strokes materialize on the white walls. Seurat, of course, loves these white walls because he sees in them the possibilities of what he will create. A special challenge for a director comes in the second act, which has always seemed disjointed. The action taking place in the 1980’s can seem underdeveloped and less moving than those taking place in the 1880’s. This production connects the two acts by showing what making art is and means to the two Georges and by giving the contemporary George a moment of recognition and catharsis that seems to be cut off by Seurat. In the first act, after witnessing George not being able to tell Dot that he loves her and failing to take care of her, we see the attention he pays to her in his painting. He messes endlessly with the hat, with her bustle, with the monkey she has on a leash. He takes great care, in fact, in how he places everyone and everything in the painting. As we see his care for composition, we see how George experiences and conveys his love for those around him. Later, we see the 1980’s George at a donor reception as he schmoozes the individual donors, the people who might commission a piece, the curator who might give him a museum show, the critic who has the power to shape opinions about his work and future, and the artistic collaborators without whom he can’t make his pieces. This is how art is made in the 1980’s, a kind of composition that is very different than what Seurat had to deal with. Finally, the show ends when the 1980’s George goes to the island where Seurat’s painting was created and sees how the landscape has changed. It’s almost unrecognizable, except for the curving lines of the river, which we recognize from the painting, and one tree that still remains. George sits on a park bench and breaks into tears, recognizing how much he misses Marie, conflating Marie with his mother in the first act. This emotional outpouring is something that Seurat would not have done and we take a little hope that this George might change the direction of his emotional life.
I could go on and on but I won’t, except to say that this is as good a production as I’ve ever seen and perhaps even more carefully directed, or at least somehow more intimate, than the original production. And while I can’t help hearing Bernadette Peters and Mandy Patikin when I hear these songs in my head, I did largely forgot them as I watched this production.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
"This Is How It Goes" at Profiles Theater on 2/10/08 in Chicago
Profiles Theater is doing a season of all Neil LaBute plays. For those of us who like the combination of the head on look at the brutality of contemporary society, his humor, and his dialogue, this was a treat. Lest season, Profiles production of "Fat Pig" was unflinching and excellently done.
The Profiles space is teeny. Its stage is really just a small floor and there are seats on either side. The two front rows are probably two feet from the action at times. As an audience member, it would be easy to notice the entrances and exits of the actors and the audience members sitting across from you. Because of the acting in Profiles' plays, this intimacy is used to good effect and we're largely able to ignore those things. I went to see "This Is How It Goes" on a night when it was below zero and the theater got unbearably cold when an actor opened the door to the theater when making an entrance. I wondered once or twice about how cold the actors, who were wearing shorts in some scenes, must have been, but mostly I was too caught up in the action of the play to worry for them too much.
This play is about a threesome -- a funny, sensitive, somewhat nerdy but cute enough white man; the pretty, exhausted, emotionally dissatisfied white woman with whom he'd been infatuated as a teen; and, a successful, good-looking, athletic black man who is her husband. At the play's opening, we learn that the somewhat nerdy guy is a layer who has come back to town after have been away for many years and is no longer practicing law. He runs into Belinda at the mall and we can see that he's thrilled to see her because he's always been in love with here. His attention, lightness, and humor are a welcome relief from her marriage to Cody. They begin to see each other more frequently and, as she gets more and more of his attention, the disfunctions in her marriage to Cody come increasingly to the surface. At first, the tension in the play is that her marriage is unravelling but eventually we learn why the lawyer has quit his job and come back to his hometown. He has made a very inappropriate racial joke within hearing distance of a black colleague and refuses to apologize. The scene in which he tells this story is classic LaBute. In it we get a thoughtful analysis of racial relationships in America. The lawyer's racism is evident -- his joke, which he maintains is just a joke, betrays racist attitudes underlying the joke. It's especially brutal for audiences because we see ourselves in that joke. Told by a nice man, a character we like very much, we recognize the brutality of the joke and the attitude it reflects, one that we like to think only lives in rednecks in America but that really lives in the hearts and minds of white collar people in America's cities as well. Meanwhile, our long history of race relations makes it impossible for the black woman to hear it as a joke. The result of that history is that she can only hear it as an attack. I won't give anymore details about the play's plot except to say that, in the end, the racism is not the final issue in the play but the relationship between the two men who are fighting for Belinda. Eventually, we realize that Belinda is something that the men feel they can trade. The eventual lesson of the play is that relationships in America are still among men and women are commodities they trade.
LaBute's plays are brutal but I think it is a mistake to say that he must be a brutal person. Instead, I think he's a keen observer of contemporary American culture and his plays reflect the brutality of our lives back to us. His play and the subsequent film, "In the Company of Men," was a scathing reflection of misogyny in American culture. It hits us hard because we would all like to believe that sexism is dead in America, at least in educated spaces, and we are reminded that it's not. "This Is How It Goes" points out things about race in America that many of us think have disappeared but that are still around and lurking under the surface and come up for air in jokes. A look at gender relationships does the same thing. But I think this view is not one that LaBute has made up out of his imagination but instead out of his observations of American culture.
This production is very well acted and well directed. It was very funny. And the intimacy of the theater, despite the cold let in by the entrances and exits, served the play well.
The Profiles space is teeny. Its stage is really just a small floor and there are seats on either side. The two front rows are probably two feet from the action at times. As an audience member, it would be easy to notice the entrances and exits of the actors and the audience members sitting across from you. Because of the acting in Profiles' plays, this intimacy is used to good effect and we're largely able to ignore those things. I went to see "This Is How It Goes" on a night when it was below zero and the theater got unbearably cold when an actor opened the door to the theater when making an entrance. I wondered once or twice about how cold the actors, who were wearing shorts in some scenes, must have been, but mostly I was too caught up in the action of the play to worry for them too much.
This play is about a threesome -- a funny, sensitive, somewhat nerdy but cute enough white man; the pretty, exhausted, emotionally dissatisfied white woman with whom he'd been infatuated as a teen; and, a successful, good-looking, athletic black man who is her husband. At the play's opening, we learn that the somewhat nerdy guy is a layer who has come back to town after have been away for many years and is no longer practicing law. He runs into Belinda at the mall and we can see that he's thrilled to see her because he's always been in love with here. His attention, lightness, and humor are a welcome relief from her marriage to Cody. They begin to see each other more frequently and, as she gets more and more of his attention, the disfunctions in her marriage to Cody come increasingly to the surface. At first, the tension in the play is that her marriage is unravelling but eventually we learn why the lawyer has quit his job and come back to his hometown. He has made a very inappropriate racial joke within hearing distance of a black colleague and refuses to apologize. The scene in which he tells this story is classic LaBute. In it we get a thoughtful analysis of racial relationships in America. The lawyer's racism is evident -- his joke, which he maintains is just a joke, betrays racist attitudes underlying the joke. It's especially brutal for audiences because we see ourselves in that joke. Told by a nice man, a character we like very much, we recognize the brutality of the joke and the attitude it reflects, one that we like to think only lives in rednecks in America but that really lives in the hearts and minds of white collar people in America's cities as well. Meanwhile, our long history of race relations makes it impossible for the black woman to hear it as a joke. The result of that history is that she can only hear it as an attack. I won't give anymore details about the play's plot except to say that, in the end, the racism is not the final issue in the play but the relationship between the two men who are fighting for Belinda. Eventually, we realize that Belinda is something that the men feel they can trade. The eventual lesson of the play is that relationships in America are still among men and women are commodities they trade.
LaBute's plays are brutal but I think it is a mistake to say that he must be a brutal person. Instead, I think he's a keen observer of contemporary American culture and his plays reflect the brutality of our lives back to us. His play and the subsequent film, "In the Company of Men," was a scathing reflection of misogyny in American culture. It hits us hard because we would all like to believe that sexism is dead in America, at least in educated spaces, and we are reminded that it's not. "This Is How It Goes" points out things about race in America that many of us think have disappeared but that are still around and lurking under the surface and come up for air in jokes. A look at gender relationships does the same thing. But I think this view is not one that LaBute has made up out of his imagination but instead out of his observations of American culture.
This production is very well acted and well directed. It was very funny. And the intimacy of the theater, despite the cold let in by the entrances and exits, served the play well.
Monday, February 18, 2008
"The Little Dog Laughed" at About Face Theater, Chicago, IL - 2/9/08
"The Little Dog Laughed" was written by Douglas Carter Beane, author of the movie "To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar" and the book for the musical "Xanadu," presently running on Broadway. The movie, which I thought was ok at best, and "Xanadu," which I loved, rely heavily on camp humor. So does "The Little Dog Laughed." As far as I'm concerned, his humor is sort of one-note, but in the case of "Xanadu," it is fantastically entertaining. In the case of "To Wong Foo," it's forgettable.In About Face's production of this play, Mary Beth Fisher plays a Hollywood agent who will lie, cheat, and stuff her client in the closet, for success. Her client, who has been happy to remain in the closet and do rent boys every now and then, meets a rent boy for whom he's willing to come out. When he gets the lead in a movie that is certain to be a hit, his agent tells him he has to remain in the closet because the character is gay. Gay men can't play gay men in blockbusters, she tells him. Women have to believe he's straight.
The play is hysterical and Mary Beth Fisher is incredible: she steals the show. Then again, the script was written that way. Other characters have their moments but not nearly as many moments as she does. Apart from watching her, though, there's not much else to this play. Or maybe to this production.
When the play opens, the lead who plays the movie star is adorable (and has a great body) and when he falls asleep before getting it on with the fella he hired for the night, you're ready to like him. The two of them, both living largely in the closet, fall in love and decide they will come out to be with each other. Unfortunately, there is no sexual chemistry between the actors and so one never believes that they're in love and hot for each other. Plus, they're not very good in these roles. As a result, the exposure of hypocrisy in Hollywood as it plays itself out among the characters matters little to the audience We're supposed to be disappointed by the position the two guys find themselves in but we don't. There's a small controversy brewing in town because the stage directions call for a scene where the two men are nude and one goes down on the other. The playwright was upset when he saw the production and realized the men had on underwear in the scene. Frankly, I don't think it would have added anything because the audience wouldn't have believed there was any sexual attraction anyway.
At the end of the play, we all wondered if it would have felt like something more substantial than candy if we had seen a different production. The theme of hypocrisy and cut throat activities in Hollywood is hardly something that I care about. But if we could have seen the characters as people who felt something for each other and who may have lost that, then we may have cared for their lives, even if not Hollywood's. But I don't know. I loved "Xanadu" but there's no attempt to be serious in that play. So, I still don't know if it was an mediocre script or a mediocre script coupled with a lackluster production.
Monday, February 4, 2008
"The Selfish Giant," by Oscar Wilde at Chicago Children's Theatre - February 3, 2008
The Chicago Children's Theater commissioned Blair Thomas & Co. to create a sort of trunk show for them, a show in which all the materials would fit in trunks and could be taken around to schools and community centers for performances. Blair Thomas is perhaps best known for the "spectacle" pieces he created at Redmoon Theater, the form of theater that Redmoon is perhaps still most recognized for. Some of Blair Thomas' most interesting work, however, is on a much smaller scale. I find a sense of poetry in these smaller shows."The Selfish Giant" is an adaptation of the the Oscar Wilde book for young readers. It's not a picture book and not quite a chapter book. It's the story of a giant who refuses to share his garden and explicitly tells kids to stay out. Without the life that children bring, an eternal winter sets in the garden and the other seasons decide that they too will stay away. The eternal chill is too much for the selfish giant and he wishes that spring would come. Luckily for him, some kids find a crack in the wall that surrounds his garden and sneak in. As they play in the garden spring returns and the giant is thrilled. He learns that in cutting yourself off from the world in the hopes of keeping everything for oneself, you also cut yourself off from the joy the world has to offer you.
Blair Thomas has partnered with the folk singer/songwriter Michael Smith on the production. Thomas wrote the book for the piece and Smith has written the music and lyrics. Smith's music is folksy and very funny in the way that folk music so often in. He knows how to wring the humor out of rhymes and juxtaposing the familiar with the exotic to humorous effect. The songs in this show are delightful.
The puppets and the staging are magical. I find puppet theater fascinating because there is no pretense of naturalism to it can be very moving. You can see three puppeteers manipulating a bunraku puppet and still forget about them long enough to be moved the face of the puppet. One of the miracles of Thomas' puppets is that the same puppet conveys various feelings and does so incredibly effectively. At one point the giant seems serene and the other he seems incredibly sad and worried. That such emotion can be drawn from a puppet in the first place is amazing and that such shifts can occur is even more so. This is part of the poetry of puppetry -- that so many meanings can emerge from the same signifier. Throughout the production, the puppets and the world of the play moves from large to small. Thomas is inside the large puppet of the giant at first and the stage is the living room and garden of the giant. When the puppet falls asleep, Thomas slips out of the puppet and emerges to manipulate a number of other puppets, from marionette children to birds carrying suitcases to scolding bees. As winter settles in, the world and all of its players shrink until we see the entire town emerge out of a chest. Each new puppet is a source of fun and delight and we love it that they keep on coming.
The kids in the very intimate theater at the Field Museum seemed to love the show. As with the best children's theater, it's also great for adults. I happened to have a 6-year-old with me but I would attend this show without having the excuse of having to bring a child. Its just good theater.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
"Shining City" at the Goodman Theatre in Chicago, IL -- February 2, 2008
Today I have a guest. My colleague and friend, Christy Uchida, sees even more theater than I do. She went to see "Shining City" at the Goodman, a show I wasn't planning to see, and agreed to share her comments on my blog. So, here they are. Thanks, Christy.“73% of Americans believe in the paranormal” claim the bus tails and other creepy advertisements currently promoting A&E’s show Paranormal State. However, it’s the paranormal event at the end of Conor McPherson’s compelling play “Shining City” currently at the Goodman Theatre that didn’t work for me. The preceding 90+ intermissionless minutes convincingly conveyed our society’s craving for “connection in an isolating age.” And the characters’ flailing attempts at connection are portrayed with humanity and humor. I don’t want to play the spoiler, because the ending was theatrically effective as evidenced by the audience’s (and my own) startled reaction. But it makes me wonder if these types of shocking tricks are necessary to cut through the clutter of all the realism in theater. (See Christopher Piatt’s excellent review of The Hypocrites’ “Miss Julie” for a comment on deconstructing American Realism in theater: http://www.timeout.com/chicago
McPherson is certainly considered to be one of the most talented young Irish playwrights—“Shining City” was nominated for three Tonys in 2006. And the heightened naturalism of his writing is compared to Mamet. Apparently he began is career writing monologues, which is evident in the long soliloquies that have led some to criticize the play for being too talky. But what else should a play about a bereaved man and his therapist be except talky?
The play is simple. Middle-aged John is recently widowed when his wife is killed in a horrific car accident. In his grief and guilt created by a near infidelity shortly before his wife’s death, he believes he has been seeing the ghost of his wife and seeks the advice of a therapist, Ian. While it initially appears that the man seeking therapy is the wreck, we realize that it’s really the therapist’s life that’s much more screwed up. The subtle shift throughout the play masterfully unravels Ian’s character, and leads us to think how much do we know about professionals we seek advice from? Effectively the costuming—Ian begins as a buttoned-up therapist and ends in a t-shirt and jeans, while John begins disheveled and ends in his salesman’s power suit—reveals the shift. Interestingly, the same irrational homophobia that appears in “Good Boys and True” (see entry below) prevents Ian from being able to have the human connection he craves. The paranormal event at the end hits us over the head to signal that the younger Ian is also settling for a lifetime of second best.
“Shining City” is brilliantly acted with John Judd as John and Jay Whittaker as Ian, recalling the tremendous two-character production of Caryl Churchill’s “A Number” that featured John and Jay at Next Theatre a couple of seasons ago. I wish I could have seen “Shining City” in an intimate venue like Next—we were too far away in the balcony to fully appreciate the incredible acting. And while the production values were excellent as always, the over-resourced Goodman unnecessarily created thunder and lightening in Christopher Akerlind’s lighting design and running water and a flushing toilet in Obadiah Eaves’ sound design that didn’t add value to the script at all. The show would have been just as good, and more accessible, at the type of small, gritty off-Loop space that makes Chicago theater great.
"Fragment" directed by Peter Brooks at Chicago Shakespeare Theatre - February 2, 2008
If you're serious about theater, get excited by amazing acting, or love to see what an amazing director does with strong but incredibly dense scripts, go see this show. It's incredible.Peter Brooks has taken fragments of works by Samuel Beckett and created an evening length piece out of them. The second piece is a series of repetitions of a a few lines of monologue with small differences over time. In the hands of anything less than remarkable actor, this piece would have seemed silly and been dully. In the hands of Katherine Hunter, it illuminates the nature of language and also has great emotional urgency. Plus, there's the added thrill of seeing such mastery in place.
In another piece there are two bags on stage and a pile of clothes. A large stick comes down and pokes one of the bags and a man comes out. He's miserable about being awaken, miserable about putting his pants on backwards, miserable about the terrible carrot he found in the pocket, miserable about his day. He eventually goes back into the bag and the stick comes down to wake up the second actor. he comes out thrilled about waking up, thrilled about his clothes, thrilled about the tasty carrot he's found in the pocket, and thrilled with his day. All of this is done with no dialogue. Another piece that would be flat if not in the hand of remarkable actors. Like the monologue, we see how language can change meaning except in this case language is reduced to gesture. To up the ante, Brooks ends the piece when the miserable man is awaken b the stick a second time but instead of being just miserable, he also seems sad. This repetition with a difference deepens the poetry of the piece.
Each piece is an exercise in directing and acting but they are also extremely warm but just technically brilliant and smart.
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