Monday, October 30, 2023

Weekly Margin 2023, W44: Sabbath's Theater, Nosferatu, a 3D Symphony of Horror

 10/24/23: Sabbath's Theater
What: The New Group presents Ariel Levy and John Turturro's adaptation of Philip Roth's novel, about a sex-crazed puppeteer with arthritis who is sent into a suicide ideating tailspin after the deaths of his longtime lover and an old friend.
And? While the three actors were very effective, and the exploration of loss and what it is to be left behind, repeatedly, by those who love you, was interesting, I think this show and this story are ultimately not for me. Which is fine.




What: Theater in Quarantine, in conjunction with Skirball, presents a virtual theatrical reimagining of the 1922 film, complete with 3D glasses mailed to all ticket holders.
And? Joshua William Gelb really feels like a once in a generation theatrical mind. This 35-minute performance, still all contained within TiQ's white closet, is evocative, clever, spooky, and somehow truly magical. And with the use of a sound design specifically for people wearing headphones--reminiscent of the work of Complicité--it's transportive.



Monday, October 23, 2023

Weekly Margin 2023, W43: The Laramie Project, Poor Yella Rednecks, Othello

What: Symphony Space hosts a benefit reading of Tectonic Theater Project's seminal docuplay about the town of Laramie, Wyoming in the wake of the brutal murder of Matthew Shepard.
And? No piece of art exists in a vacuum. There is always context. The context of when the art was made, the context of now, this living moment when the art is being experienced, the context of the audience engaging with the art. So it is that we hear the words of the people of Laramie twenty-five years ago, and can think about the progress made for legal protections for queer people, as well as the terrifying regressions in more recent years, as queer and trans youth in particular are targeted by the government. And to see this play a week after the massacre in Israel, I cannot help but pair the description of the inhumane brutality inflicted on Matthew Shepard with what is happening there. The bewilderment that people can do these terrible things to someone else because of a deep-seated but hauntingly impersonal hatred. Zubaida Ula reminds us all, "We need to own this crime. I feel. Everyone needs to own it. We are like this. We ARE like this. WE are LIKE this."




What: Manhattan Theatre Club presents a new play by Qui Nguyen, a sequel to his celebrated Vietgone. Poor Yella Rednecks has the playwright looking back on his childhood in El Dorado, Arkansas, and the sacrifices and struggles his mother endured in order to succeed in a land where she barely speaks the language.
And? I hadn't realized this was a sequel, and it really made me regret having missed Vietgone. However, this play definitely stands on its own. It's an impressive mix of satire, hip hop, puppetry, and a moving tribute to the playwright's mother and grandmother. The cast is all largely excellent (though not always up to the challenge of the hip hop sections), but I want to pay special note to the women: Maureen Sebastian as Qui's mother Tong, whose steady presence and emotional range carry and center the play; and Samantha Quan, who plays a variety of roles, each with distinct voices and physicalities, such that you forget it's all one actor. Her performance as Qui's grandmother Huong is especially powerful (and hilarious). Tim Mackabee's scenic design is a bit cumbersome (and, at least at the preview I attended, they aren't locking the rolling pieces, so we can see them move slightly when the cast interacts with them), but it doesn't ultimately get in the way of what is a good play well-performed. 

Ben Levin and Jon Norman Schneider as Bully and Little Man. Photo by
Jeremy Daniel.

Streaming Theater Related Content I Watched

Monday, October 9, 2023

Weekly Margin 2023, W41: Bloodshot

 10/03/23: Bloodshot
What: She NYC Arts presents a new play by Elinor T. Vanderburg, imaging a city where an epidemic has eradicated sleep. As citizens cope with unending days and nights, a new alarming pattern emerges when people begin to spontaneously combust.
And? This was truly special. A noir story, with a jazz quartet providing shrieking underscore throughout. The combination of Vanderburg's poetic yet understated script and and director Nigel Semaj's athletic and dramatic staging provides a truly memorable and haunting show, an exploration of the idea that the only rational response to the increasingly irrational world is self-implosion. The cast isn't always up to the level of Vanderburg's dialogue (excepting Ben Holbrook, the sonorous narrator, whose delivery is as poetic as the world of the play), but they all move exceptionally well, creating vivid stage pictures against Nor Marlow Smith's simple but versatile scenic design. The sound design currently needs a slightly better sound balance of body mics to the band (and accounting for when actors are yelling), but otherwise an exceptional piece of theater and commentary.



Monday, October 2, 2023

Weekly Margin 2023, W40: Death, Let Me Do My Show, Big Trip: Three Love Stories Near the Railroad

What: Rachel Bloom's new solo show where she contends with her greatest nemesis.
And? I don't really want to spoil this for anyone who hasn't seen it yet, but it was a good and interesting time, and very Rachel Bloom about it all. Like her tv series, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, it has the ethos that recovery is not a straight-line process, and everyone's journey is going to be its own unique mess.

Rachel Bloom. Photo by Emilio Madrid.

9/26/23: Big Trip 2: Three Love Stories Near the Railroad
What: La MaMa presents KRYMOV LAB NYC's dual exploration in Big Trip, which combines an adaptation of Pushkin's Eugene Onegin and Three Love Stories Near the Railroad.
And? full review here

Foreground: Tim Eliot, Annie Hägg, Jeremy Radin, and Shelby Flannery.
Background: Kwesiu Jones and Erich Rausch. Photo by Steven Pisano.


Friday, September 29, 2023

Margin Notes: Big Trip: Three Love Stories Near the Railroad

Shelby Flannery and Tim Eliot. Photo by Steven Pisano.


Seen on: Tuesday, 9/26/23.

Plot and Background
La MaMa presents KRYMOV LAB NYC's dual exploration in Big Trip, which combines an adaptation of Pushkin's Eugene Onegin and Three Love Stories Near the Railroad.

Three Love Stories adapts two Hemingway short stories ("Hills Like White Elephants" and "Canary for One") and a section of O'Neill's play Desire Under the Elms, presenting each vignette as a movement in a symphony (the audience is instructed not to clap between each). In "White Elephants" a couple struggles to talk around what they can't talk about and wonders if there is any love left. In "Canary" a woman tells two strangers about her estrangement from her daughter and the canary she is bringing home to try to bridge the gap. In "Desire" a woman must straddle the temperaments of her new husband and his grown son. Each is an examination of different kinds of love, and how that love can warp and change under duress.

[Note: I was originally scheduled to also see the other half of Big Trip, Pushkin "Eugene Onegin" in our own words on Friday, September 29th. This performance was postponed due to the flooding in New York, and I am unable to make the postponed performance. I had hoped to talk about the two pieces in conversation, but instead will have to make do with discussing on Three Love Stories]

What I Knew Beforehand
Pretty much nothing. My favorite!

Thoughts:

Play: I often struggle with how to engage with theatrical work whose goal seems hostile to audience engagement. From the repeated discouragement of us clapping, to cast members literally kicking heavy props toward the front row, it's clear that Krymov Lab NYC does not want its audience to sit back and relax. And with threads of Brechtian style further alienating the audience from an emotional engagement, it does seem a curious choice that Three Love Stories chooses to explore three pieces that rely heavily on the unspoken anguish of each character's inner struggle below the surface. That being said, I was never bored, and the performances inspired me to track down the two Hemingway stories to see what the source material was like (I have an extreme aversion to O'Neill, so I left that script alone). The dilation of these concise and understated short stories into expansive and physical moments (a dancer in "White Elephants" seems to represent both the unborn fetus and the woman's suppressed libido; the collapse of the facade of the woman with the canary, as her makeup smears and her wig falls off) are quite stunningly effective theater, even if I don't always understand what it all adds up to. Maybe I don't need to understand.