THE FRINGE OF MARIN ROCKS THE SHORT AND HAPPY LIFE THE HOMECOMING Reviewed MISS JULIE: DEPRAVITY OR LICENSE WAR SONG REVIEWED

The FRINGE OF MARIN is into what is sure to be its 23rd successful season of bringing the whimsical and witty works of amateur playwrights, actresses, actors and directors onto the minimalist stage of Meadowlands Assembly Hall at Dominican University.

 

DR Annette Lust, always at the vortex of the action, is the axle about which this festival of one act plays turns with kaleidoscopic action.

 

Program one opens with an irreverent Thanksgiving Comedy: STUFF IT.

 

Billie Cox directs this satirical piece that focuses on a nosing diving, high-brow family that has more dollars than sense, and much more pretense than class.

 

The dowager Mother, an archetype of the widow who rode a successful husband into an early grave, is played marvelously by Stephanie Miller.

 

The Mother has a tradition of attending a country club, for a "dress in white" Thanksgiving Dinner that is long on the meat dishes and short on the vegetables: a good ratio given the carnivorous nature of the membership.

 

The Daughter, played by Pennell Chapin, is a vicious vixen, easily baited by her brother: the Son, hilariously played by Richard Howell.

 

While denial runs as deep the Nile and familial contempt is as thick as the red meat gravy, honesty is rarely evidenced.

 

The Mother smugly rests on her dubious snobbish laurels of having had descendents on the Mayflower, perhaps never having heard of the Mayflower Madame.

 

The predatory Daughter, leaves the dining room for the kitchen and some spice with the saucy Waitress played wickedly well by Sara Eve Breindel.

 

If you ever felt that your Thanksgiving was long on tradition and short on heartfelt meaning, this play might resonant with you.

 

Billy Cox writes and directs his own show: EXIT, PURSUED BY A PIRATE.

 

With a convincing swashbuckling briny delivery, Dale Camden gives Johnny Depp a run for his doubloons as he plays the salty Captain James A. Hook.

 

The reprobate Captain rewrites history telling his side of the Peter Pan story and goes on to reveal that the Virgin Queen: Elizabeth had secretly given birth to an illegitimate son: William.

 

Captain Hook claims to have home tutored this William only to have William plagiarize every bit of Hook's lies and lore and turn it into the Complete Works of William Shakespeare.

 

The story is a bit of a stretch but the delivery is excellent: Dale Camden soundly struts and frets his twenty minutes upon the stage; and it must be remembered that this is the Fringe Festival after all.

 

TRIPPING WITH MILLER is a wonderful longitudinal piece, starting off with two eight-year-old girls and ending up with two eight-one-year-old friends for life.

 

Norma Anapol put some thought and feelings into this "Serious Comedy" that, with just a few brush strokes, accurately depicts the various stages of life and the evolving priorities of two women.

 

Annie, played very competently by Lynae Ades and Jessica, played with polished nuance by Sara Eve Breindel, seem to vie for the same men.

 

Jessica is smart enough to detect a player like Danny, while Annie is romantic and needy enough to marry a player like Danny.

 

In less than twenty minutes, director Carol Marshall, has revealed an inconvenient truth about life: that without mistakes and foolish leaps of faith, like marrying the philandering Danny, human beings would probably have gone extinct: it's not cool reason that keeps OB/GYN clinics running twenty-four and seven.

 

Annie Barry seems to have merged Sondheim with Shakespeare, introduced a little realism to the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet, and titled it: SEND IN THE CLOWN.

 

Matt Hooker and Eliza Leoni deftly share seven characters between them and Anne Barry pitches in to provide one addition one: the clown.

 

Far from being the saccharine and sentimental story of innocent love gone seriously awry, this is a more cynical look, taken from the domestics' point of view.

 

The street brawls that were pruning branches off the family trees of Montague and Capulet were good news to the kitchen staff and maids: it meant less work.

 

While the truculent families were bewailing and mourning the latest casualty, the demands on the staff were reduced to a minimum.

 

Perhaps the highlight of the Fringe Festival was the serendipitously forged together one woman show entitled MEMOIRS OF A VIRGIN: The Dilemma of an Innocent Woman.

 

The old adage, if you cannot write a play, then become a critic, does not hold for Mario Echevarria who wrote this ironically clever and hilarious comedy.

 

Great casting has made a good script into a great play: Larissa Garcia is funny just getting onto stage: her entrance is raucous.

 

As Micaela, MS Garcia, tells her story of struggle, survival and love in South America.

 

When she meets the only decent man of her life, whom she strongly hopes is really the doctor he pretends to be, she invest several thousand dollars in reconstructive surgery to convince him that she is truly a woman of honor.

 

The fraudulent Doctor Debaucher wipes out her investment; and then, like all of her men, he disappears.

 

But alas, Micaela is not defeated, nor is the lesson lost on her: she embraces life with fresh resolve and abandon: but mostly abandon.

 

Brittany Hogan creates a whacky "Modern Romantic Comedy" that would have divorce lawyers rolling in the aisles.

 

Brittany Hogan, Kip Baldwin, John Clevenger and Anthony McGovern star in this rough hewn comedy about some very unlikely nuptials: both spent the eve of their wedding in the arms, or lions, of someone other than their betrothed.

 

While MS Hogan gives her audience little explanation as to while "these two should wed" director John Clevenger cleverly keeps our attention occupied with the frantic and farcical rather than the critical.

 

MS Hogan and MR Clevenger should be congratulated for having achieved a very Moliere feel to this fugue.

 

Having watched prime time sitcoms and having watched Annette's one acts, I think I prefer the one acts: it's real people delivering real creativity: from the heart to the stage in twenty minutes or less.

 

For tickets to refreshing entertainment, without the commercials and the mass media glitz, call Annette Lust at 415 673-3131 or surf on over to thefringemarin@yahoo.com



An Excellent Credit Score is 750. See Yours in Just 2 Easy Steps!

THE SHORT AND HAPPY LIFE

 

Reviewed by Jeffrey R Smith of the San Francisco Bay Area Theatre Critics Circle

 

The incongruously named Sleepwalk Theatre Company boldly staged THE SHORT AND HAPPLY LIFE by Ryan Michael Teller: not to be confused with The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber by Ernest Hemingway.

 

Anyone who attends to more than a dozen shows per year would greatly appreciate this invigorating breath of fresh air by Ryan Michael Teller.

 

MR Teller writes like he does NOT attend more than a dozen shows per year.

 

To his credit, MR Teller writes like maybe he attends a dozen undistributed Indie films per year, maybe a dozen raves, listens to vynal and sees absolutely no theatre aside from possibly the Marsh and Exit theaters.

 

Tolstoy told his children, that if they could avoid thoughts of a white bear, then they could have anything that they wished for.

 

Tolstoy planted the vision of the white bear; the children got no wishes.

 

That is the problem of seeing too many plays: the creative process is essentially one of synthesis: elements and themes of witnessed plays tend to ingratiate themselves into new works.

 

Many playwrights seem to pull too much off the shelves: cognitively, perhaps unconsciously or unwittingly, they are cutting and pasting.

 

MR Teller has a greenness, non-linearity and randomness, bordering on Camp mind you, all of which are a welcome qualities in the world of contemporary theatre.

 

Assuming MR Teller can write, without thinking about randomness, non-linearity and Camp—figuratively also the white bear—he stands an excellent chance of becoming a stimulating, provocative and highly entertaining playwright.

 

Ariane Owens, cast as Sally, has a saucy stage presence and seems to only approximate the her full-throttle potential.

 

MS Owens needs to pull out all of her control rods and just go for the meltdown.

 

If audiences were honest with themselves and directors, they would tell you that they like energy: they want a show that requires not only seatbelts, but shoulder harnesses: they want to see actors limp with exhaustion: slumping, not bowing, at the final curtain.

 

Director Tore Ingersoll-Thorp should carefully side-step trying to forge anything for mainstream consumption: let his genies out of their bottles and take the dogs off the leashes—including MS Owens.

 

Do not go for the tried and true: close the eyes and hope for a camp classic.

 

Susan Sontag, one of the greatest minds of the 20th century, admitted, "I am strongly drawn to Camp, and almost strongly offended by it."

 

She described Camp peripherally as one would Zen: " . . . the Camp sensibility is disengaged . . . true Camp has the power to transform experience . . . Camp merits the most serious admiration and study . . . Camp comes from the effortless smooth way in which tone is maintained . . . Camp rests on innocence."

 

Tore Ingersoll-Thorp, Ariane Owens and especially Ryan Michael Teller seem innocent enough: they have a shot at Camp; let us hope they take that shot with their blindfolds in place and cotton in their ears.

 

To see what the Sleepwalkers have up their pajama sleaves, surf on over to www.sleepwalkerstheatre.com.

 



Access 350+ FREE radio stations anytime from anywhere on the web. Get the Radio Toolbar!

THE HOMECOMING

 

Reviewed by Jeffrey R Smith of the San Francisco Bay Area Theatre Critics Circle

 

Award winning director Joyce Henderson, a resident of staid and stately Alameda, seems to thrive on risk, the daring, the provocative and successfully pushing the theatrical envelope.

MS Henderson is a part of a bay area theatrical tree grafted, via Jean Shelton, and clearly traceable to the immortal Russian actor, theatre director and acting teacher: Konstantin Stanislavsky.

It was Konstantin Stanislavsky who created the revolutionary Method Acting which was practiced by Stella Adler, Anthony Quinn, Gregory Peck, Marlon Brando and Marilyn Monroe.

MS Henderson and her fledgling theater company, while surviving two nascent years on a shoe string budget—nay, a dental floss budget—have knocked down 13 San Francisco Bay Area Theatre Critic Circle nominations and garnered four awards.

 

Currently MS Henderson and the Off Broadway West Theatre Company are presenting THE HOMECOMING by Nobel Laureate Harold Pinter.

 

When THE HOMECOMING opened on Broadway in 1967, not only did it startle and disturb urbane New York audiences, it also, perhaps incongruously yet justifiably, received four Tony Awards.

As most critics agree, the play is rife with Pinter's trademark ambiguity; it is enigmatic as well as cryptic and fuels countless hours of critical debate by all who see it performed.

To its controversial credit, THE HOMECOMING blends issues of sex and violence in a vividly realistic yet aesthetically stylized presentation.

As Tolstoy correctly observed: "Happy families are all alike; yet every unhappy family is unhappy in its own unique way."

 

Imagine if you will a house filled with four men: the father: Max, Max's brother: Sam, and Max's ne'er-do-well well sons: Joey and Lenny.

 

Jessie: Max's wife, also the mother of Joey, Lenny and Teddy, and sister-in-law to Sam, is missing: presumed dead.

 

Life for this highly dysfunctional family has readjusted around the suppurating hole left by Jessie's inexplicable departure.

 

When the third brother: Teddy and his wife: Ruth, make a late-night, unannounced visit, both are drawn into the family's fetid broth.

 

As previously stated, Pinter loves to torment us with ambiguity and doubt, and to goad us dead-end leads and Delphic, cryptic signals.

 

Never satisfying the audience's appetite for unequivocal facts means that the play indefinitely expands to fill the broad margins of speculation, conjecture and hypothesis.

 

Teddy claims to be a professor of Philosophy but every sophomoric question posed by his quasi-educated brother, Lenny, seems to be beyond Teddy's purview.

 

Teddy proudly states that he and Ruth have had three children; yet rather than affirm Teddy's claim, Ruth seems to enter into a fugue or funk at the very mention of their children.

 

Joey is training to be a professional boxer yet he lacks two essential skills: defense and offense.

 

Ruth, initially reluctant to remain over night at Teddy's homestead, ultimately takes charge of the household as the grand memsahib or fem Pooh-Bah.

 

The play is without borders—as the French would say: Sans Frontières: it is Pinteresque: like life, it is haunted by an unspecified menace: perhaps inevitability of death: oblivion.

 

Graham Cowley is the tent pole that keeps this apsidistra flying: MR Cowley's Max is surely to earn him a best actor nomination for the 2009 season.

 

Sylvia Kratins, as the mysterious Ruth, is superb as she slowly unfurls her character; tantlizing the audience every inch of the way.

 

The show is riveting: it is a dark, noir, comedy filled with unsentimental familial cruelty that seems to resonate with the audience.

 

The play has won numerous awards around the world; the director has won numerous awards around the bay, THE HOMECOMING is a confluence of great talent, unconvential creativity and unfettered imagination: it should not be missed.

For tickets to an entertaining, funny and slightly disturbing evening, surf on over to www.offbroadwaywest.org or 800-838-3006 or 510-835-4205.



Feeling the pinch at the grocery store? Make dinner for $10 or less.

MISS JULIE

 

Reviewed by Jeffrey R Smith of the San Francisco Bay Area Theatre Critics Circle.

 

The Aurora Theatre Company of Berkeley is presently staging MISS JULIE by August Strindberg as adapted by Helen Cooper and directed by the award winning Mark Jackson.

 

Structurally and psychologically, the play is reminiscent of Jean-Paul
Sartre's NO EXIT.

 

As in NO EXIT, three people set up a dynamic that is more of a tug-of-war or a rugby match, than a romantic relationship.

 

To remove any speculation as to who influenced whom, be aware that Strindberg wrote MISS JULIE in 1888: just after the glacial sheet retreated north of Stockholm; while Sartre did not pronounce his dictum, "Hell is other people," or "l'enfer, c'est les autres" until 1944: when the Germans were nervously goose stepping backwards: to the ruins of Berlin.

 

Strindberg's play is relatively mild fare to our contemporary society wherein nearly everyone can afford the privilege of cultivating ordinary ennui and existential angst until it blossoms or metastasizes into a full blown neurosis garnished with bourgeois materialism and ladles of sexual promiscuity, but MISS JULIE was initially banned in most of the civilized western European countries.

 

Even Sweden would not permit the play to be produced until 1906.

 

While it is one thing to be "banned in Boston," it is another thing altogether to be banned in Sweden: home to Bastu (consensual flagellating with birch switches), naked Sauna, nude snow rolling, ice swimming in the buff, the racy Volvo 1800S sports sedan and Swedish vodka.

 

The British, on the other hand, would not stage MISS JULIE until 1939; and who wants to go see Swedish eroticism during the London blitz?

 

Lauren Grace plays the sizzling aristocratic Miss Julie who, while celebrating the Summer Solstice decides to play the role of dominatrix and melt down the class barriers between her and her footman: Jean (played by Mark Anderson Phillips).

 

The footman's lover Christine (a.k.a. the kitchen slut; played by Beth Deitchman) looks on with cool detachment, counting on class structure to ultimately restore Jean's ardor back to her.

 

True to the tradition of Alfred Hitchcock, the meat cleaver stabbed into the kitchen table as the curtain goes up, does get used for purposes other than preparing the meat dish or cutting the brie.

 

Strindberg takes his audience on an erotic excursion.

 

The audience, prompted in part by the pulchritude of the actress, is salaciously rooting for Miss Julie to compromise propriety, to violate employer-employee protocols, to dismantle class structure and to dissolve the flimsy moral rectitude of the vacillating Jean.

 

After a full-scale capitulation to craven animal instincts, DNA demanding replication and the tyranny of selfish genes, one would expect that Jean and Julie had stripped themselves down to the bare basics of the human condition and we ready to get real with each other.

 

But alas, as Uncle Cusper used to say, "true lust never ran a straight course."

 

Award winning costume designer Fumiko Bielefeldt has resourcefully outfitted the cast with costumes that reflect the appropriate historical era, the prim culture, the character's social station and the predatory agenda of Julie.

 

For titillation, erudition, edification and just a smidgen of eroticism, get thee to the Aurora Theatre soon: when word of Lauren Grace's superlative performance gets out, you may be buying your tickets from a scalper at twice the price.

 

Surf on over to www.auroratheatre.org or call 510-843-4822.



Feeling the pinch at the grocery store? Make dinner for $10 or less.
WAR SONG
 
Reviewed by Jeffrey R Smith of the San Francisco Bay Area Theatre Critics Circle

 

The American Conservatory Theater is currently performing WAR MUSIC at the Geary Theater.

 

The show, adapted and directed by Lillian Groag, is based on the book by Christopher Logue, which is translated from another book, allegedly written or told or sung—accompanied by the lyre—by Homer—Homer being the son of Nestor.

 

As for determining what events establish the beginning and the end of the show, MS Groag gets off easy: she follows the lead of MR Logue.

 

Before we get too many steps down the road of analysis, let it suffice to say that the show is spectacular: beyond any scope, scale or proportion that could be safely attempted by most theater companies—even the most reckless.

 

A.C.T., MS Groag, the cast and crew are truly ambitious and daring to tackle it.

 

Additionally, they unequivocally successful.

 

Not to employ Hellenic idioms, but the show is a Herculean feat of Colossal proportions and Gordian complexity.

 

Furthermore, it is as enjoyable as it is intellectually challenging.

 

A show of such grandeur arrives in the bay area as frequently as Halley's Comet.

 

To truly enjoy WAR MUSIC, one need revisit classical mythology via THE ILIAD and Edith Hamilton's MYTHOLOGY.

 

A little exegesis of the characters is important for understanding the plot line, the humor, the costuming and the fates and prophecies that rivet the players to their respective destinies at Troy like a roller coaster is fastened to its track.

 

The entire personae dramatis of Homer's ILIAD appears on stage: Thetis, Aphrodite, Helen (Rene Augesen), Homer, Crysez, Soos (Charles Dean), Agamemnon, Antenor, Hephaestus (Lee Ernst), Odysseus, Pandar, Poseidon (Anthony Fusco), Hera, Antilochus, Tu (Sharon Lockwood), Calchas, Priam, Scamander, Makon (David A. Moss), Thersites, Ajax (Andy Murray), Menelaus, Diomed, Deedam (Nicholas Pelczar), Patroclus, Aeneas (Christopher Tocco), Hector, Idomeneo (Gregory Wallace), Athena, Manto, Andromache, Cumin (Erin Michelle Washington), Achilles, Paris, Apollo (Jud Williford), Nestor, Zeus, Anchises (Jack Willis).

 

Remarkable performances are turned in by Jud Williford and Rene Augesen.

 

MS Augesen is ideally cast as the Greek Goddess of Love given that callipygos (from whence derives our euphemistic adjective: callipygian) was an epithet for Aphrodite.

  

Back in the days circa 1330 BCE, anyone who was anyone in the Eastern Mediterranean was at Troy: either encamped on the sand or snug within Priam's fortress.

 

If you were not at Troy you were back in Greece languishing: consuming thy husband's store.

 

Penelope wiled away the years weaving an Afghan and coquettishly sidestepping the rowdy suitors that partied in her home.

 

Helen's sister, the hormonally over-revved Clytemnestra was busy embarrassing her children: Orestes and Electra, by cavorting with Aegisthus—giving it out like a Hollywood tart caught between rehab spas.

 

WAR MUSIC and more specifically the ILIAD is the convergence of at least a dozen comeuppances or vengeance schemes for unforgivable slights, minor offenses, breaches of protocol and injured egos; it is the Karmic kickback for a dozen philanderings—incestuous or otherwise—and the fruition or "I told you so" for a dozen Delphic prophecies spouted by Oracles, Soothsayers, Tarot Dealers, Palm Readers and Charlatans from every corner of the Mediterranean.

 

The play opens with 50,000 Greek or Achaean troops nesting—nut to butt—on the alluvium where the Scamander River confluences with the Dardanelles.

 

The Greeks have been camping for nine years, without their wives, which explains a lot about the Greek tradition for broadmindedness when it comes to acceptable forms of recreational concupiscence.

 

What is not explained, is the logistics.

 

How did food arrive?

 

Where did they find sufficient firewood?

 

Mail?

 

Drinking water?

 

Bathroom tissue?

 

Soap?

 

Laundry detergent?

 

Dental floss?

 

Homer and WAR MUSIC seem to floss, or should we say, gloss over such mundane details.

 

And where did the Trojans grow their food with the Greeks out menacing their countryside?

 

As the curtain rises, the Greeks are bored: Helen is about to return home with Menelaus, Achilles is pouting.

 

A catalyst is needed to prod the war to its fated conclusion or an exit strategy needs to be formulated.

 

Even before classical antiquity, exit strategies were rare; now Afghanistan and Iraq prove that exit strategies are equally elusive or worse: extinct.

 

For the sake of all the sequels that issue forth from the ILIAD, a catalyst is enthused, the ennui broken and ultimately Brad Pitt gets to make another B movie.

 

In a nutshell, Hector mistakenly kills Patroclus: boy friend to Achilles: the Brooding Prince of Phthia in Thessaly.

 

Just as a vengeful Achilles is suiting up in fresh armor provided by Hephaestus at the request of Thetis, the curtain comes down.

 

End of Part One?

 

Another intermission?

 

A disgruntled stagehand goes amuck on the curtain halyards?

 

Imagine if you will, HIGH NOON ending just as the train pulls into town.

 

Then too, it is difficult to find a proper ending scene for the Greeks and the Trojans.

 

The Greek story continues through the ORESTIA of Sophocles: it does not come to rest until after the curtain falls on EUMENIDES.

 

The Trojan epilog is picked up by Virgil as the AENEID; Aeneas waylays in Carthage with Queen Dido (c.f. the Punic Wars); the story concludes with the fratricidal founding of Rome by Romulus: Romulus had the city named in his honor while the vanquished Remus served as the basis of Uncle Remus: chief story teller in SONG OF THE SOUTH—which is now property of Pixar.

 

WAR MUSIC is a marvel: studded with beautiful women, hunks of men, punctuated by one gag after another and culturally edifying.

 

For tickets to a classic show in the traditional sense of the word, surf on over to www.act-sf.org or call the A.C.T. box office at 415-834-3200.



Feeling the pinch at the grocery store? Make dinner for $10 or less.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009   Tuesday, April 14, 2009   Sunday, April 12, 2009   Sunday, April 12, 2009   Wednesday, April 08, 2009   home top of page home top of page home top of page home top of page home top of page moremoremoremoremore