Comments On A Mind Set.

In the Spring of this year I was invited by Theatre Vault website to submit an article listing areas and directions where Community Theatre (in a general sense) could stand improvement.

I responded, pointing out my favorite picky details that have slightly dented a 55-year love affair with good and great theatrical experiences.

Apparently my article was acceptable to the regular readers of Theatre Vault. (Nobody was breathing heavily at my front door.) And, a few weeks ago, the Editor of the TV website invited me to submit another article along the same lines.

This time I hesitated. For one thing, I felt I had adequately covered the subject the first time around. There’s a fine line between constructive criticism and theatre bashing, and I’ve been on the receiving end of spurious attack enough times to not wish to inflict that on anybody else.

But I changed my mind. In response to a recent less than glowing review of mine, a reader pointedly reminded me that I was “reviewing a community theatre production, and not Broadway’s latest and greatest.”

I found this comment to be demeaning, not only to the theatre group he supports, but also to the community of non-professional theatres as a whole.

And I’ve heard it before. “It’s just community theatre.” To imply that one standard should or does exist for professional theatre and a lower one exists for community theatre is to suggest that the many incredibly gifted performers in community theatre are not good enough to stand equal to their paid brothers and sisters.

In fact, almost the opposite is true. There are over 40 theatrical organizations in this city, all fighting for the same dollars and patrons. No group is going to survive without constantly challenging the others to improve. Furthermore, many years ago the area went off the “A” list for professional touring companies, simply because they knew they couldn’t compete with both the quality and quantity of local presentations. Only in the areas of elaborately staged large musicals will you see much in the way of professional theatre here, and even these groups don’t always make a profit.

The bottom line is simply this; there’s only one standard. As an audience member, if you like a show, it’s good. If you don’t, it isn’t. It’s as simple as that. Your judgment should be based solely on taste and experience, without qualifications. If you are working on a show, and have the mind set that it’s “just community theatre,” the show is dead already. Make it the best it can possibly be, and settle for nothing less. Invite – even dare – comparisons to anybody. A positive, rather than defensive, attitude is everything.

j

And Yet Another Review

They're comin' thick and fast now, boy ...

Theatre Review – Hedda Gabler
Curtain Players Community Theatre 03/14/10


When the play Hedda Gabler was first produced in 1891, audiences didn’t understand it, and reviewers failed to recognize it as the great classic it would become. And when we say “it,” of course we refer to the central character of Hedda. She alone drives the plot forward. She alone makes the unremarkable characters around her remarkable, bending them to her formidable will.

In fact, if this was a one person play, it would still be fascinating.

Hedda is a study in contrasts. She hates her place in the society of her age, yet almost desperately wants to be accepted by it. She finds a sense of obliged destiny fulfilled by being married, but has nothing but disdain for her husband. Being raised by a single parent (a father in the military), her interests do not at all reflect those of proper young ladies during the latter part of the Victoria influenced era. Her open yearning for equality is her attraction, and the very denial of it determines not only her character, but also her fate.



Knowing all this in advance, I was intrigued to see how Curtain Players would handle an epic play in a petite theatre.

Frankly, they did pretty well.



The setting for the play is both comfortable and bright. Since the audience area is only six rows deep, there is an abiding intimacy here. Likewise the costumes appeared to be correct (and expensive) to my untrained eye. “Job well done” to designers Matt Hermes and Drew Washburn, and to costumer Joyce Leahy.

In a cast of worthy performances, Micah Jenkins first stands out. As the cuckold husband, his presentation of subtle weakness was constantly creative. I was impressed. I often forgot I was watching someone act.

I never forgot I was watching acting when I saw Joe Lusher as the judge. I wasn’t surprised to read of his Shakespearian background. I can only describe his performance as “rich.” I would occasionally back away from the involvement of the work to just enjoy pure style.

As the writer Lovborg, I was impressed with the raw power that Jeremy Ryan Brown brought to the set. He was the only male in the cast who could consistently stand up to the Godzilla-like personality of Hedda Gabler.

In a strong supporting role was Laura Miller as Thea. She must be good. I disliked the weakness in this character from her first moment on stage.

Also in smaller roles were Nancy Meyer and Linda Browning Hughes. In both cases I would like to have seen more.



And then there’s Hedda … When she first stepped on stage, Emma Bach reminded me of Walt Disney’s Alice in Wonderland. After three minutes she reminded me of Lady Macbeth. By the end of the evening I wasn’t sure exactly what I had seen – other than it wasn’t going to fit well into any of my pre-conceived boxes. Here is a character so complex, so driven, yet so fragile … Ms Bach handled it all with seeming ease. In addition she added an almost hypnotic charm – one of those “I-am-the-flame-you-are-the-moth” kind of things.

With the high quality of everything else, I was disappointed with the direction. For example, the character of Hedda was too openly domineering, right from the beginning. A softer start would have allowed the character to “grow”, revealing more depth. What bothered me the most was the amateurish blocking – the unmotivated moving of people from one side of the set to another. Often three people would be jockeying for position to see who stands next to whom. Not good. And likely these mistakes might have been unnoticed if the quality of acting was less than it is.

Hedda Gabler will continue to be performed at Curtain Players Community theatre this coming weekend.

j

Woo-woo! Another review!

Is been a week of the write stuff - one interview, one article, two reports, two reviews. Here's my second review. (By the way, if this play ever passes by your doorstep, SEE IT.)

Theatre Review – Six Dance Lessons In Six Weeks
Emerald City Players 03/06/10


Okay. Let’s start with the punch line. The Emerald City Players production of Six Dance Lessons In Six Weeks is the funniest two person play I’ve ever seen in my life.

Having said that, if the people on play selection up in Dublin had asked me, I would have told them – straight out – “don’t do this play.” That’s what I would have said.

“Why not,” they would have asked. (Or likely would have asked. They’re a polite bunch. Respectful.)

“Because,” I would have pounced, “it will never work. Never ever. There are only two people in the cast – two! Where are you gonna find two people in this town who can pull that off? And it deals with intolerance and acceptance! When was the last time you saw a funny play about intolerance and acceptance?”

In my mind I could see them squirming. I had them and they knew it.

And then I would have gone straight for the throat. “Nobody’s gonna come see it. If you want audiences, do something by Neil Simon, or - better yet – Richard Rogers. That’s it! Or something with lots of kids. I think Annie Five is available …”

They didn’t listen to me. In fact, they didn’t even ask me. This conversation never happened.

But it illustrates two points.

First, it’s true that Six Dance Lessons In Six Weeks will likely not draw large audiences. The show is not that well known by the general public. It does have a cast of only two people, and both of them are (a) not young, and (b) dressed throughout the production. Since the play deals with adult themes, it has adult language.

In other words, this play has everything in the world working against it as a community theatre presentation. Many times I’ve been told that these theatres can’t afford to speculate. Wistfully I’ve heard that they must stick with the proven money makers. It’s a matter of survival.

The second point is the colossal loss to the quality of life there would be if we chose not to embrace a play like this when it comes along.

Here’s what we would have missed;

We would have missed a marvelously well written work – it is at the same time warm, zany, funny, biting, and endlessly inventive. Very few topics are sacred – literally.

We would have missed two incredible performances. Kathy Strum and Mark Schuliger compliment each other perfectly. The chemistry between them is remarkable. At every moment you know you are in most capable hands. Characterizations are strong, clear, and sustained. Actions are motivated and reactions are endearing. And as for energy levels … could two people actually sustain the necessary energy levels to keep a play interesting for a two hour period? Hint. The energy levels were still going up during the curtain calls.

Six Dance Lessons In Six Weeks will continue to be presented by Emerald City Players for the final times this weekend.

Parting shot. A number of plays are all being presented this weekend, all over town. Even with your best guess, every once in awhile a great one slips by, unnoticed. Don’t let Six Dance Lessons In Six Weeks be one of them.

jb

Review of Tracks In The Snow

Another day, another play. Another review, same website.

Theatre Review – Tracks In The Snow for Raconteur Theatre Company .


The ambiance of Club Diversity on South High Street is unmistakable, and typical of those intimate bars that have been around since the year two. This one is remarkable only because it’s carved into architecture at once familiar in German Village; remnants of plaster over lathe, ancient brick, exposed beams - all giving the impression of strength, history, dignity, and quiet repose.

After mildly curious stares by local patrons, someone led me up a flight of wide steps and down a hall to a room about the size of a small efficiency apartment. At the front is the acting area. In the rear, light and sound boards. In between, purple walls, tables, chairs, imaginative drawings on what had once been large windows.

All this is Raconteur Theatre Company – every bit of it. The experience does not begin with the play, but when you walk in the door of the building.

To begin their 2010 season, Raconteur has chosen the play Tracks In The Snow, by Neil McGowan. The story centers around a young man, forced to take shelter with a farmer and his family during a snow storm. Complications arise when the young man interacts with the farmer’s two daughters …

Yeah, yeah, it was all I could do to write that last sentence. My first impression of the plot was that it fell somewhere between a soap opera and a very old joke. The characters were less than subtle exaggerations of real people – certainly larger that life. Worse, like a parody of Greek tragedy, I anticipated the ending right from the beginning.

So … with this comforting feeling of condescending superiority, at what point did I become aware that the characters moved from bazaar to interesting? When – and more importantly, HOW – did I become involved in their lives?

Everything, of course, begins with the writing. Neil McGowan has purposely created characters that are “weird” by their own admission. As more intimate details of their lives are revealed, so are their social and cultural values. The young man, representing the audience, is at first distant, an observer. As he is reluctantly drawn in, so are those of us who are watching and listening. If the purpose of the playwright is to say that we are all unique, yet share variations of the same very real issues … well then, congratulations, Mister McGowan, ya got me.

But even the best of scripts is subject to interpretation. Somewhere during the roughly two-hour presentation, the characterizations went from my impression of “strange” to “strong.” I’ve tried to pinpoint when that happened – for some reason that seems important to me – but I can’t. Only after the fact was I aware that my attitude had changed.

Perhaps it was in the performance of Leslie Robinson as the family matriarch. Ms Robinson was certainly the most believable of the cast members, and always a joy to watch in whatever role she takes.

Or my involvement might have been the result of watching Sean Reid, Jonathan Carter, Lorelei Moore, and Tom Shafer. At first they appeared to tip toe around the edges of burlesque in their broad character presentations, but by half way through the show I found myself nodding my head, “yes, I do know people like that.”

From the start I was intrigued with the performance of Andrew Goodwin. Mister Goodwin starred in one of my own plays several years ago, and I was curious to see his transformation into this new character. At first he appeared stiff, even formal. But as the play evolved, so did his character, becoming softer, more sensitive, even slightly haunted.

In the end, however, the main thrust of Tracks In The Snow is carried by Katie Powell. This talented performer is a dynamo of energy, leading the direction of the plot down one seeming rabbit trail after another. Ironically, you know this very exuberance will eventually doom the character. None of her dreams will be fulfilled.

The Raconteur Theatre Company’s production of Tracks In The Snow is a funny sad play, and if your nature is sensitive, the shadows will remain on the edges of haunted memory for some time.

jb

Review of Romeo And Juliet

As I've mentioned in the past, I'm a contributing drama critic for a theatre website, Theatre Vault. Last night I saw a production of Romeo And Juliet, and, since I share everything else with you, here are my remarks.

“Not Your Mama’s Romeo & Juliet.” That’s what the advertisements proclaim for Rosebriar’s production of this Shakespeare classic. Director notes in the program start with “This production is unabashedly post modern.”

Uh-huh.

In other words, don’t go in with any preconceived ideas.

The script tells you that the play is set in fair Verona. The production, however, is set in the basement gymnasium of the Groveport Elementary School. Down a flight of concrete steps, turn left, and you are seated on either side of a basketball court. The floor is plastic covered, and a total of four stage lights set the no-frills mood. Ten minutes before the production is supposed to start, the actors casually wander in, chat with the audience, theoretically rehearse, and play this slightly choreographed variation of musical chairs. At a given time, with no announcement, the volume picks up, and you are aware that the show has begun.

I love that! I’ve always enjoyed mixing performers into the audience areas, and since everyone is modern dressed, until the show starts, you’re never quite sure why the person sitting next to you is wearing a sword.

Under the direction of Steve Emerson, the focus for Romeo & Juliet is less about the two lovers, and more about the constant – and bloody – feud between their two families. Since the facility for this production is a literal basketball court, the similarity was not lost between the performers and two teams jockeying for position from one end of the field to another. The atmosphere works.

For the first half of the play, the pace is set fast – too fast. Shakespearian dialogue requires careful interpretation and expression at the best of times. Even the playwright himself warned actors to “speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc’d it to you, trippingly on the tongue …” This didn’t happen here. Words spat out like machine gun fire. To keep pace, physical characterizations were also larger than life. There were moments when I could have been watching a Charlie Chaplin silent movie … with people talking … fast.

But I could be unfair in my judgment. (And I don’t say that often.) I base what I see, after all, on how I would see it done. At the very beginning I was warned this would be a “different” production. Could this rush to present one scene of mayhem after another be the result of sophisticated design? If so, it was done well. If it was by accident, the effect was still achieved. In any case, the pace slowed, starting with the famous balcony scene, and demonstrated that these people really were equipped to perform the roles they were given.

Everyone in the cast had their moments. A few stood out, and not always for the right reasons.

Manny Flowers. In a cast of loonies at the beginning of the play, he appeared almost stiff and formal. As the others settled down, he loosened up. By three-quarters of the way through the show, I was looking forward to his appearances.

Rudy Frias. Energy – he carried enough for everyone in the cast.

Heather Green. A competent actress. It’s unfair to suggest (but I’m gonna do it anyway) that her best role was as a diminutive barefoot creature looking like something you’d buy on a stick at the County Fair. Endearing.

Angie Palmer. Another competent actress. Ms Palmer is a strong presence on stage. Whether speaking or merely standing there, she draws the eye.

Krista Threadgill. Of all the performers in the play, she gave the consistently best interpretation of the lines – a fine actress. (And a wonderful angel.)

Daniel Smail and Chris Tressler. Among others they filled space, made transitions, were here and everywhere setting up and tearing down. Not easy and often not appreciated.

Curtiss Stewart Jr. and Sarah Gehring. As Romeo and Juliet, they were fine when apart, but disappointing in both passion and chemistry when together. Only occasionally did their declarations of love ring true.

Rosebriar’s production of Romeo & Juliet will continue to be presented in the Groveport Elementary School Gymnasium through (dates.) As a suggestion, a pizza place with atmosphere is less than a block away. Dinner and a show could provide a quite pleasant evening of entertainment.

jb