New Centerstage Review Up

I saw another play! It was… unsatisfying. A story about two hoarding brothers in 1930s Manhattan has a lot of possibility, and yet we spend more time with a pair of stereotypical Irish cops than with the eccentric hoarders. This could’ve been a kind of Grey Gardens, if it had stayed focused. Ah well–there were some good parts, especially the physical comedy bits. Here’s an excerpt of my review:

Homer spends the entire first act of the play trying to get away from Langley, although he’s bound by a promise to his father to take care of his naïve younger brother. When the tables are turned in the second act and Langley takes care of Homer, there’s an opportunity to explore what that means to each of them, but instead we’re asked, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” and are told, without subtlety, “yes.”

You can read the rest of the review at Centerstage.

New Centerstage Review Up

I forgot to post this when the review came out last week, whoops. Last week I saw Twyla Tharp’s “Come Fly Away” at the Bank of America Theatre (does any other theater name make you feel less in the mood to see a show?). I don’t know much about dance, so I cannot speak to the technicalities of the performance. But I know about grace and sensuality, and I can tell you that there was so much of this on display in this show. Definitely worth it if you have the spare cash!

The show is 80 minutes of dance set to a combination of a live big band and Frank Sinatra recordings. Here’s an excerpt of my review:

Each set of principals delights, but the two duets by Ashley Blair Fitzgerald and Anthony Burrell stand out. Their tense, charged “That’s Life” thrills, and the lonely “One for My Baby” saddens and soothes. Tharp features the men as often as the women, and the various moves they perform highlight just how versatile and graceful the human body is.

You can read the rest of the review at Centerstage.

New Centerstage Review Up

This is another recommended show: Opus at Redtwist Theatre up in Edgewater. It puts four people in a room (rotating out a fifth) and watches them implode after years of power struggles and a communal desire to reach new musical heights. Here’s an excerpt from my play review:

This structure teases out the subtleties of the relationship between Dorian (Paul Dunckel) and Elliot (Michael Sherwin), and their power struggle within both the bedroom and the rehearsal space. It’s partially a metaphor of which should ultimately reign in music-making, the head or the heart, but the metaphor never supersedes the humanity of these flawed, talented artists.

You can read the rest of the review here.

Pro tip: Don’t be late! Redtwist doesn’t have late seating and you will be sad as you watch the TV monitor in the lobby showing the play you can’t get into. I learned this when traffic made me all of five minutes late to opening night, and I had to come back the next day to actually see and review it. (Many thanks to the staff at Redtwist for accommodating me there.)

New Centerstage Review Up

I know I encouraged you all to go see a panto, and that still stands, but if you have some spare cash or come into some as an early Christmas present, spend it on The Jackie Wilson Story at the Black Ensemble Theater Cultural Center. The show runs through the beginning of January, so you have plenty of time to go see the best replication of one of the most beautiful voices in American singing, Mr. Excitement. I swooned a bit in my play review:

Kelvin Roston Jr. is breathtaking as Jackie Wilson; he gets all the clear, smooth highs and earthy, sensual lows of Wilson’s voice, and his energetic dance moves are mesmerizing. For those of us who never got to see Jackie Wilson in concert, Roston’s dynamic performance is likely the closest we’ll ever get, and that is an opportunity you don’t want to pass up.

Read the rest of the review here.

New Centerstage Review Up — See this Play!

Dearest fellow travelers, in case you missed my exhortation last year, let me repeat it: go see a panto. If you’re in Chicago, you’re in luck, because an Evanston theater company puts on a panto every Christmas season. Forget the tired old Goodman A Christmas Carol, or even any of the we’re-taking-the-piss-out-of-earnest-Christmas productions; Piccolo Theatre is where it’s at. But what is a panto? Here’s an excerpt from my theater review:

‘Pantomime’ is a bit of a misnomer; the British panto involves no miming. Indeed, it’s a raucous production involving cross-dressing, musical numbers, sly pop culture references, and rowdy audience participation. A fairytale or well-known story is reworked for maximum comedic effect, with adjustments made to fit in standard panto characters like the dame, the villain’s henchman, and the slightly clueless hero.

Read the rest here.

What fun! I’ve been to a couple in England on family vacations, and I still remember screaming out warnings to the hero, “He’s right behind you!” as the villain crept up for an attack. It is no less fun to do this as an adult, I promise you. So get thee to a panto!

Aesthetically Speaking: Rory Leahy

Please welcome back Rory Leahy to Stowaway. Rory last wrote for this space in a series of guest posts on road trips, which you no doubt remember with great fondness. Rory and I belong to a marvelous mutual admiration society, and I love seeing his writing performed onstage. I’m going to see the Old Tyme Variety Show tomorrow night; let me know if you’d like to join me. Thanks for sharing, Rory!

What is your name and city of residence?
Rory Leahy. I live in Chicago.

What medium do you work in?
I’m primarily a writer, also an actor and director. I write prose fiction and I write, direct and produce plays, sketch comedy and the like. Although my best work is probably done in the form of Facebook statuses.

How often do you work on your art–is it a full-time endeavor or something you work on in your spare time?
When I had a day job, I wrote on weekends. I was always too tired to do it after work so I would write on Saturday and Sunday morning/afternoons. Since I’ve been unemployed or as I prefer to think of it “Self employed,” I write every day, several hours a day if I am disciplined, less so when I am not. Plus I run my own theatre company–American Demigods–and producing stuff, which basically means coordinating, everything is extremely time consuming. When a show is going on it’s pretty close to a full time job. I have no idea how I handled it when I DID have a full time job. Probably because I did a lot of it at work I think.

How does art fit into your life, in general? Is it something you think about and talk about every day, or every week, or only in certain situations, etc.?
I think about it pretty constantly. Writing and acting are both about life, about people, about observation. You’ve got to pay attention to what’s around you because everything informs the art. Because I write comedy, definitely things that are funny are an influence on the work. I don’t put literally everything I experience that is funny, or everything that is serious, into a play or a story because obviously, not everything fits but I pay a lot of attention to how jokes work. To how emotions work, in daily life. Daydreaming about the Big Score after which I will be a wealthy literary superstar obviously consumes much of my waking life.

Just a simple suburban boy protecting the streets in "The Irrelevant Adventures of Jarvis McFadden"

When you start on a piece, what kind of end result do you have in mind? Does it get performed or published, put in a permanent form or is it more temporary?
Everything I write is intended to be performed or published. Whether it is or not is another matter, whether it should be or not is another matter, because not everything I write is any good and the stuff that isn’t gets to spend eternity in the mausoleum that is Microsoft Word. Most of what I write for the theatre these days gets produced by the American Demigods, which is to say, me and my friends. And self production is great of course. It’s awesome to write things and get to do them exactly how I want them. But I also get short plays produced here and there by other people and that’s very nice too. It’s great to see what other people do with my work when I have very little or no involvement. And you know, it’s validating because someone other than me thinks it’s good enough to do the work and expend the resources to put on. One of my goals for the near future is to have a full length play of mine produced by someone who is not me.

As for prose, I’ve spent less time on it than playwriting but I definitely have a passion and, I think, talent for fiction writing as well, but I only have a handful of short stories that I really like. I very much want to get them published but as anyone can tell you, that’s an elusive goal. Prose doesn’t offer the same kind of performance outlet that theatre does, although something I’ve started doing, really just recently, is getting to know the Chicago literary community and going to public readings. I get to read my work for other writers and listen to their work and everybody offers feedback and advice and that’s been a terrific experience.

What goals do you set in relation to your art, both short- and long-term? Is it something you hope to make money doing, or is it something you want to keep uncommercialized? Does the term “sell-out” hold meaning for you or do you see the art/commerce relationship as a necessary one?
Yes I absolutely want to make money doing it, indeed, make a living at it at some point, despite the overwhelming odds against that happening, especially as I age. I find inspiration in Rocky Balboa, a largely unsuccessful but persistent boxer who became Heavyweight Champion of the World at the unlikely age of 31, as seen in Sylvester Stallone’s acclaimed documentary series. But making a living at it in the ever further away “someday” is critical for me, because I’ve believed since childhood that it’s the only thing I CAN make a living at and I think my attempts at making a living in other ways have only demonstrated this thesis.

Artists have always had patrons. It’s nice when the state can fulfill that role, but in this country, especially in these days of economic austerity it’s a very limited role, so any successful artist gets underwritten by major corporations and you can rage against that if you want but it’s the reality and ultimately I’m okay with it, because that’s where the money is. There are two kinds of “selling out” as I understand the phrase. There’s selling out in a way that compromises your artistic vision, where you don’t get to do the work you want to do because the money wants you to do it differently. The other kind is when you lend your talents to the service of people or organizations that you consider to be unethical. Whatever it says about me as a person, I’m actually much more comfortable with the latter kind of selling out than the former. Ultimately my integrity as a writer means more to me than my integrity as a human being in some twisted way. Rod Serling said something really beautiful when he wanted the commercial sponsors to stay the hell out of his way creatively, I’m paraphrasing but it was something like “Gentlemen, we are all in the business of selling products, I know mine as well as you know yours and therefore I should have as much control over my production as you have over yours.” Something like that.

The other kind of selling out, when you’re compromising morally rather than aesthetically…one of my best friends is a sometime actress. A few years back she had agented representation and the potential to go really far with it. She was offered a national Walmart commercial. We all know Walmart is, even by the standards of American megacorporations, a particularly odious entity. She was offered ten thousand dollars to do the commercial. It would have been huge exposure. Most actors would kill for a national commercial. My friend agonized over it but ultimately decided not to do it. The killer thing for her was that she would have gotten union health insurance over it and the irony that she would be supporting an organization that does its damndest to prevent its employees from getting health insurance was just too much for her. I both admire the hell out of that decision and suspect I would have done the opposite. Temptation would have overwhelmed me. I’d have felt a lot of angst over it, and spent that ten grand in various ways to dull the pain.

But corporations are where the money is, if they wanted to pay me to write things I would be happy to take their money. I would actually love to write advertising copy or be a commercial voiceover artist if I had the chance. I’d love to endorse products I use. I would love to be paid to say “When I’m writing hilarious sketch comedy I enjoy the delicious, refreshing taste of Coca-Cola” because I do. This is of course, with the full knowledge that Coca-Cola benefits from death squads in Central America busting unions and stealing water supplies. So I enjoy the refreshing taste of Coca-Cola but not the death squad part. But you know, you’re not paying me to an express an opinion on death squads, you’re paying me to express an opinion on a soft drink.

Actually this interview probably ruins my chances of ever being paid to endorse Coke so thanks a lot, Stowaway.

Obviously there are moral limits. I guess a compartmentalization thing, I can make a mental distinction between what a corporation might be selling and the evil deeds they might do. I would never accept money to endorse actual immoral actions. Like I’ll never write a PSA saying “Please remember to report your Jewish acquaintances to the authorities.” There are some limits.

What role does collaboration with others play in your art, if any?
Collaboration is huge in theatre. More than huge. Theatre IS collaboration. I have strong vision and a strong desire to be in charge of the final product of what I write and produce. The words “power mad control freak” are not inapplicable, but I rely on lots and lots of people to do what I do. My consistent goal is to surround myself with the best people I can find, and I’m usually quite successful in that goal. To start with, actually I sometimes write with partners. In the past I wrote with my high school and college friend Marc Heiden, in the beginning of my early writing career, that partnership really helped me in setting the tone of my narrative voice and all that. These days I write most frequently with my actor friend Jordan Hoisington, who’s just a severe thunderstorm full of good ideas, we’ve written some killer sketches together and now we’re doing a two man show together. Then of course there’s my fledgling company, American Demigods which I think really attests to the magic of collaboration. I had the notion of having my own little vehicle for some time, probably right out of college. And I did put on one show under that banner, with help from some great people, most notably my college friend Tom Schorsch and generous patron Kurt Tuohy. But most of those folks didn’t want to continue doing it as a permanent thing so I was kind of left on my own and nothing in theatre, other than arguably a one man show, really comes of being on your own.

But my friends David Wilhelm and Samantha Raue really changed that when they agreed to be my board members in 2009 and we started to rev this thing up. I like to tell the story of how I met Dave, or rather became aware of Dave, he was two years younger than me and just started to get involved in my beloved undergrad theatre company, the Penny Dreadful Players, as I was leaving college. As the Springsteen song goes, “He was walkin’ in, I was walkin’ out” and I happened to see him in his acting debut, which was a ten minute play set in a coffeehouse. Then I saw him as one of the leads in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. I don’t think I actually met him after these occasions but I was so impressed by his presence and charisma that I told myself then and there “I’m gonna work with that guy someday.” And now we are working together on a continuous basis so dreams do come true, kids.

Wow I sure do seem to be a long winded interview subject. Because I work with all kinds of actors, writers, directors, tech folk. Directors are huge obviously, sometimes I direct my own work, sometimes I work with others, and collaboration’s not always pretty, because sometimes there are strongly differing viewpoints. Some folks really get it and some folks don’t, which is why I try very hard to work with people, both actors and directors, who do get it. I’d like to take the opportunity to sing the praises of the director I’m working with on my two person show right now, Katie Horwitz, who is very demanding in the best way. Jordan and I have spent the last couple of months riffing pretty hilariously on my couch and sometimes Katie’s just a stone, a really tough room. And that just makes me work so much harder, because you know when you get a laugh out of her, you earned it. And she says exactly what she thinks, which is so great. I have a really strong personality and some poor souls have found out that I will bulldoze right over them, sometimes to the benefit of my work and sometimes to its detriment, so if you’re gonna work with me, especially if you’re gonna direct me, you need to have a strong personality too.

Theatrical collaboration really makes me feel good about human nature. Because so many people are so helpful, so generous with their time, their labor, they’re getting something out of it too, but the biggest thing we all get out of it is a sense of shared accomplishment. It’s teamwork at its best.

Rory plays god in "Dr. Strangegod or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Blasphemy"

How conscious are you of your artistic influences? Who are your artistic influences?
Oh Heavens, always such a hard question, there are so many, as a writer, certainly Kurt Vonnegut, Douglas Adams, Neil Gaiman, Joss Whedon, Tom Stoppard, you know, all the great geeks but many, many others, anyone who’s literate in English has spent a lot of time with Shakespeare and that goes double for a theatre person. Joss Whedon may be the one I’m most self conscious of, because he’s, not so much an influence, because I think I encountered him at a time when I was already writing and starting to write really well, but he was just the apotheosis of everything I had always wanted to do and he was the first person I really saw doing it. By which I mean, he created great entertainment that basically sneered at the concept of “consistent tone” which is what I most want to do. He fully integrates drama and comedy and sees no particular reason to keep them in separate boxes, because life doesn’t do that so why should fiction?

Since this is a travel blog, how does travel relate to or affect your art? (Themes in what you produce, road trips to perform your music, thoughts on what happens to your painting when you ship it across the country to a customer, etc.)
For financial reasons, I’m not as well travelled as I’d like to be but I do love road trips. I love solo road trips especially, because while theatre is collaborative, writing is solitary. Place is tremendously important to my writing whether it comes across or not. I have a very geographically connected memory. Memories flood back when I’m in a certain place, like where I grew up or where I went to school. And the memories that flood back are less memories of concrete incidents than memories of sensations and emotions, and it’s the latter that really informs the work. I haven’t done a lot of travel to do theatre although that’s certainly a romantic notion. I did go to St. Louis about a year ago to participate in a 24 hour play festival and that was really sweet. It was great to discover an entirely new community of theatre artists, although many of them had ties to Chicago. I’ve also seen great theatre in other cities, the Minneapolis Fringe Festival was a great occasion a few years ago. It’s wonderful to think you can go pretty much anywhere and you will find practitioners of your art form, the same goes with art and music scenes around the country of course. It’s all one big, universal fraternity.

And finally, a right-brain question: If your art was a map, what would it be a map of?
I suspect, to a house where a really great party is going on but it’s a house in the suburbs and it’s terribly hard to find. And I’m basically a landmark navigator so it’s really imprecise. “It’s near a lake, or a river, definitely a body of water, I guess you’d call it a stream. Because there’s this gate over it? It’s at least six blocks past the McDonalds, no, the other McDonalds.” You’ll be a little late but you will get there. And you’ll see a lot of funny and interesting things along the way.

If you’d like, share your website/Facebook page and any upcoming gigs/plans you’d like readers to know about.
Right now I’m doing the American Demigods Magnificent Old Tyme Variety Show, which encompasses the aforementioned two person show as well as some other sketch stuff I’ve written and directed as well as live music and magic and burlesque dancing. That’s at Gorilla Tango Theater at 1919 N. Milwaukee every Wednesday night in November (except Thanksgiving week). Also I’m in the talking stages to write some burlesque shows for Gorilla Tango, one of which will be based on the films of Tim Burton. I’m also writing a novel based on my earlier play Lysistrata 3000. And 2012 will hopefully bring more great work by the American Demigods, mostly dependent on whether people give us money. Seriously. Give us some money. We’ll spend it well.

AmericanDemigods.com
American Demigods Facebook Page

Photo 1 credit Benjamin Haile. Photo 2 credit Gabriel Pastrana.

Aesthetically Speaking: David Wilhelm

This week’s interviewee is Chicago actor David Wilhelm. I’ve seen Dave kill on stage many a time, most recently as the dancing, singing, advice-giving ghost of Christopher Marlowe in “Erratica.” (It was as awesome as it sounds.) Starting TOMORROW, Wednesday the 2nd, he’s appearing in a four-week run of the American Demigods Old Tyme Variety Show at Gorilla Tango Theatre, which is sure to be a good time, so check it out. Thanks for sharing, Dave!

What is your name and city of residence?
David Wilhelm
Chicago, IL

What medium do you work in?
Theatre mostly, but I also write, and I’m working on getting into voiceover.

Erratica press shot, photo credit Benjamin Haile

Dave as the ghost of Christopher Marlowe in "Erratica"

How often do you work on your art–is it a full-time endeavor or something you work on in your spare time?
You assume I consider the time I spend on acting spare.  It’s not.  It’s a second job (or third or fourth, depending on how you count them).  It’s work I like, at least at the best of times, but it’s still work, not a hobby.  This is the fundamental assumption that a lot of what I will call, for want of a better way of putting it, normal people tend to make, that art is a hobby or something you do recreationally simply because it is often done for free.

Allow me to wank philosophical for a moment.

It’s something we assume about a lot of occupations.  A lot of people would say that my mother was unemployed for twenty-five years because being a full time parent is not a job.  Anyone who has been a full time parent, however, would likely disagree, if they gave it any thought.  I remember my mother recounting an exchange with a DA during jury selection in which he would not let go of the idea that she was unemployed.  She stressed with increasing irritation that she did in fact have a job and the sooner he understood that the more teeth he’d be able to hold on to.  I may be exaggerating that exchange slightly.

But ask yourself.  In what way is it distinct from a job?  Because it’s a position that involves no pay?  That would mean an internship is not a job, or that volunteer fire fighters are technically on vacation when they’re on call at the fire house because they are not getting paid.

This is more than a job.  It’s part of who I am, as cliche ridden as it may be to suggest it.  It is integral to what it means to be me and were it removed I would feel that I was no longer myself.

At any rate, I don’t call myself an artist.  The term is far too general.  Actor at least gives an indication of what I do.  I consider it a job, though it’s not how I pay the bills.  To do that, I work a desk.  It is boring.  Mostly I sit there and pray for the death that will not come.

How does art fit into your life, in general? Is it something you think about and talk about every day, or every week, or only in certain situations, etc.?
I think I’ve covered this for the most part. My friends are, by and large, theater people, so my personal and professional circles overlap a lot.  The artistic director of the theatre company I’m with presided at my wedding.  The reader/groomsman was an actor, and another groomsman was the first director I ever had.  And the beat goes on.  When I said it was part of who I am, I didn’t mean to be glib or self-aggrandizing.  The choices I’ve made and the people I’ve surrounded myself with are all part of that.

When you start on a piece, what kind of end result do you have in mind? Does it get performed or published, put in a permanent form or is it more temporary?
The idea behind theater is that it is alive.  The show will change slightly from night to night.  What one audience laughs at or is moved by will have no effect on another audience.  The show may be recorded, but staring at a screen is hardly the same thing as being in the theater watching the play happen live, as anyone who has done both will tell you.

There is the script.  That is, in some small way, permanent, but it is only one piece of the show.

What goals do you set in relation to your art, both short- and long-term? Is it something you hope to make money doing, or is it something you want to keep uncommercialized? Does the term “sell-out” hold meaning for you or do you see the art/commerce relationship as a necessary one?
The short term goal is always the same.  Finish this show and gear up for the next one.  Long term, it’d be brilliant to get paid to do this, enough so that it’s all I have to do.  I cannot describe how much I hate riding a desk.

The commodification of art.  That’s something we could spend a long time on.  You can tell yourself that money doesn’t matter, but to some extent, it does, whether you’re being paid for your work or not.  I would love to build glorious sets that immerse the audience in the play from the moment they enter, or costume actors in clothes specifically chosen from the whole history of fashion to communicate some intrinsic truth about them.  But ultimately, I haven’t got the budget.  So the actors wear what we can afford out of what we find, often some combination of their own clothes and second-hand items.  It’s the same all around.

To sell out, to me, means the money is more important than the art, and ultimately you can’t know someone to be a sell-out without knowing their mind.  There are plenty of big Hollywood actors who will tell you they do movies so they can come back and do theater without worrying about making ends meet.  I can respect that, even if I don’t much care for some of their work.  Does that mean they’re sell-outs?  No.  I don’t think so.  And while I’d like to say I’d never make an awful movie, the pragmatist in me knows we all have our price.  My wife and I have bills to pay, debts we owe.  If I could wipe those away by playing some part in making “Transformers 4: Just Like Transformers 2 But Somehow Even Worse,” I just might do that.  I’d keep doing theater, mind, because I need something that sates that creative impulse, and I might not watch the film once it came out.  But I’d do it.

I think fifteen year-old me would have a very different answer, but he’s not here, the lazy little shit.

What role does collaboration with others play in your art, if any?
It’s integral.  I can’t direct, do the lights and sound, produce, design costumes, and play all the characters.  I could do a one man show, I suppose, but I’d still need someone helping with publicity, a space to perform in.  Otherwise I’m just one of those crazy people on the street corner.  Unless I have a hat on the ground in front of me.  Then I’m an artist.  Or a panhandler.  It’s a fine line.

David Wilhelm

not panhandling

How conscious are you of your artistic influences? Who are your artistic influences?
To answer both questions in one go, I haven’t a fucking clue.  I can tell you what writers have moved me, what performers have surprised me.  In the end, everything that I am contributes in some way to the imagination that merges with the text to form the characters I play.

Since this is a travel blog, how does travel relate to or affect your art? (Themes in what you produce, road trips to perform your music, thoughts on what happens to your painting when you ship it across the country to a customer, etc.)
Money is the big issue here.  Travel isn’t cheap, and most places that need entertainers can find them nearby.  I’ll gladly travel anywhere to perform, so long as someone else is paying, because gods know I don’t have the coin.

I’ve traveled on my own, not as much as I’d like but more than I’ve any right to have managed.  Every part of it has helped to shape me in some way into the person I am now, so in that respect, it has had some effect.

And finally, a right-brain question: If your art was a map, what would it be a map of?
Big empty space with the words: Here be dragons.

If you’d like, share your website/Facebook page and any upcoming gigs/plans you’d like readers to know about.
www.actordavidwilhelm.com

Also, I am now co-host of the new game nerd podcast Loot the Room: http://loottheroom.libsyn.com

Photo 1 credit Benjamin Haile. Photo 2 credit Peter James Zielinski.

New Centerstage Review Up

Profile Theatre’s A Behanding in Spokane was thrilling and discomfiting, but also empty and hopeless. Staged like a particularly well-executed playwriting exercise, we begin truly in media res, as a one-handed man shoots into a closet, calls his mother, and opens the door to let in a frantic young woman waving a dessicated human hand. What. is up. Here’s an excerpt of my play review:

Thad Hallstein’s set is so spot-on, it looks like he picked up the dingiest motel room he could find and put it down in the middle of the theater. Such a room requires a mood as bleak, and Cox sets the tone with his cruel, efficient treatment of Marilyn and Toby, and his singular focus on getting back what is rightfully his.

You can read the rest here.

I’ve never seen a Profiles show before, and while I enjoyed this show somewhat (I think the review came off more positive than I intended, oops), I’m not sure I’ll be back. They have produced just about every Neil La Bute play ever written, and I’m not super interested in supporting a theater that’s that obsessed with putting on La Bute’s misanthropic, sexist, would-be Mametism.

New Centerstage Review Up

I had trouble writing up the latest play I saw for Centerstage, because I felt so conflicted about what I’d seen. Under the Blue Sky by David Eldridge has received rave reviews everywhere it’s been performed, including here in Chicago. It’s well-written, with natural dialogue and smart commentary.

But the characters were straight out of the Cliché Grab Bag. We had the Emotionally Unstable Woman who frantically waved a knife at her lover rather than let him move away, the Slut Who Only Does It Cuz She Hates Herself, and the Shy Young Man Who’s Secretly a Pervert. Still, the actors played them well, and with a considerable amount of subtlety. And there were some twists that undermined the clichés somewhat. But why make them the premise in the first place?

(Also, the male actor in the final scene seemed to be constantly forgetting his lines, not entirely, just enough to throw off the rhythm entirely. Must’ve been frustrating for his female counterpart.)

Here’s an excerpt of my play review:

And what private moments these are. The first two vignettes show so-called friends at their worst, people treating each other so badly that they even come right out and comment on how ugly the situation is.

You can read the rest here.

New Centerstage Review Up

Who’s in the mood for some seasonal spookiness? Check out the always-odd, often-heartbreaking Strange Tree Group in their latest, The Spirit Play. Tom B. and I saw the show a week ago, and I was delighted with how delighted he was by the production. It’s always fun to feel like you’re really treating someone with your comp ticket.

Here’s an excerpt of my review:

This Halloween special explores the world of Victorian-era séances and the various ways we convince ourselves that something we want desperately to be true is true… Raps on the table, bells ringing in mid-air, and of course, ghostly hands creeping out from behind a curtain; all these were standard practice among séance charlatans of the era, and the medium and her entourage use them here as well.

You can read the rest of it here. Happy haunting!