Berto Fernandez and Ariella Kvashny in "Evita," Karli Cadel Photography Like its predecessor “Jesus Christ Superstar,” Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s “Evita” was conceived as a rock musical and was released as a record album before ever being produced in a theater. While a strong case can be made that “JCS” is a rock ‘n’ roller, the ballad- and showtune-heavy “Evita” never felt like one. But these two have something inarguably in common: Both were smash hits on Broadway and have enjoyed productions around the world ever since their New York debuts (“Superstar” in 1971, “Evita” in 1979).
Cygnet Artistic Director Sean Murray told the opening night audience Saturday that he’d wanted to do “Evita” since 1978. That was the year of its West End debut. Murray’s dream has been realized: “Evita,” under his direction, is onstage in Old Town. With stout musical direction by Patrick Marion and brilliant choreography by Carlos Mendoza, Murray’s is an “Evita” to be proud of. This production is not without a defect. The acoustic compatibility between the backstage band and the singing cast wavers. It’s often difficult to understand what the show’s narrator, the Argentine everyman Che (A.J. Mendoza) is saying in song. Likewise the star, the luminous Ariella Kvashny, whose lyrics are mostly lost when she sings in a higher register. As for Lloyd Webber and Rice’s show itself, it’s true that “Evita” hinges principally on one song – “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” and its reprises – and as a nearly sung-through musical it can have a stagey, operatic feel. But at Cygnet this a dynamic “Evita” production. The kinetic and recurrent choreography of Mendoza’s and Blake McCarty’s newsreel-like projections behind the stage ensure that there’s always someone or something moving, giving the show momentum and view points. This “Evita” never falls into a lull. I especially admired the tango dancers under the direction of Nicole Wooding whose movement provides a poignant parallel onstage to the courtship-to-music of actress Eva Duarte and Juan Peron (the towering Berto Fernandez), soon to be president of Argentina. Cygnet’s stage is not an expansive one, but every inch is maximized to give the musical the sort of sweeping veneer that a story about change and turmoil in Argentina in the 1940s should possess. The first act-closing, flag-waving “A New Argentina” is as rousing as the “Evita” I saw back in 1980 at the Shubert Theatre in Century City on its first national tour. Any discussion of an “Evita” production, however, should rightly begin and end with the artist in the lead role. As Kvashny told me in a recent interview I did with her for The San Diego Union-Tribune, this part Is the biggest she’s ever had in her still young career. And she nails it. In spite of the acoustic issues, she demonstrates her formidable vocal range and, wonderfully costumed (as is the cast as a whole) by Zoe Trautmann, Kvashny is a charismatic Eva who goes from good-time-girl to the most influential woman in the country in a stunningly short amount of time. Kvashny makes this transition credibly and her stage presence – the fuel of Eva Peron’s rise to prominence – is redoubtable. Fernandez’s is the show’s booming voice, yet he brings appropriate sensitivity to the Peron who in the end must watch his beloved partner physically deteriorating. Truth be told, I’ve never liked the Che device in “Evita.” (He’s not revolutionary Che Guevara, by the way.) It seems like a narrative contrivance, telling us throughout what we should already be thinking about this extraordinary woman who was saint to some, opportunist or hypocrite to others. This is not a criticism of actor A.J. Mendoza at all. He swaggers and comments just as the script prescribes. This show’s crowd-pleasing character is Magaldi, the showman who is also Eva’s first lover and who brings her to Buenos Aires. The animated Matthew Malecki Martinez does not disappoint in the role. “Evita” is bookended by the death of a woman who notably said “My biggest fear in life is to be forgotten.” Fear not, Eva. “Evita” runs through Oct. 1 at Cygnet Theatre in Old Town.
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Berto Fernandez and Ariella Kvashny in "Evita." Karli Cadel Photography Like its predecessor “Jesus Christ Superstar,” Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s “Evita” was conceived as a rock musical and was released as a record album before ever being produced in a theater. While a strong case can be made that “JCS” is a rock ‘n’ roller, the ballad- and showtune-heavy “Evita” never felt like one. But these two have something inarguably in common: Both were smash hits on Broadway and have enjoyed productions around the world ever since their New York debuts (“Superstar” in 1971, “Evita” in 1979).
Cygnet Artistic Director Sean Murray told the opening night audience Saturday that he’d wanted to do “Evita” since 1978. That was the year of its West End debut. Murray’s dream has been realized: “Evita,” under his direction, is onstage in Old Town. With stout musical direction by Patrick Marion and brilliant choreography by Carlos Mendoza, Murray’s is an “Evita” to be proud of. This production is not without a defect. The acoustic compatibility between the backstage band and the singing cast wavers. It’s often difficult to understand what the show’s narrator, the Argentine everyman Che (A.J. Mendoza) is saying in song. Likewise the star, the luminous Ariella Kvashny, whose lyrics are mostly lost when she sings in a higher register. As for Lloyd Webber and Rice’s show itself, it’s true that “Evita” hinges principally on one song – “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” and its reprises – and as a nearly sung-through musical it can have a stagey, operatic feel. But at Cygnet this a dynamic “Evita” production. The kinetic and recurrent choreography of Mendoza’s and Blake McCarty’s newsreel-like projections behind the stage ensure that there’s always someone or something moving, giving the show momentum and view points. This “Evita” never falls into a lull. I especially admired the tango dancers under the direction of Nicole Wooding whose movement provides a poignant parallel onstage to the courtship-to-music of actress Eva Duarte and Juan Peron (the towering Berto Fernandez), soon to be president of Argentina. Cygnet’s stage is not an expansive one, but every inch is maximized to give the musical the sort of sweeping veneer that a story about change and turmoil in Argentina in the 1940s should possess. The first act-closing, flag-waving “A New Argentina” is as rousing as the “Evita” I saw back in 1980 at the Shubert Theatre in Century City on its first national tour. Any discussion of an “Evita” production, however, should rightly begin and end with the artist in the lead role. As Kvashny told me in a recent interview I did with her for The San Diego Union-Tribune, this part Is the biggest she’s ever had in her still young career. And she nails it. In spite of the acoustic issues, she demonstrates her formidable vocal range and, wonderfully costumed (as is the cast as a whole) by Zoe Trautmann, Kvashny is a charismatic Eva who goes from good-time-girl to the most influential woman in the country in a stunningly short amount of time. Kvashny makes this transition credibly and her charisma – the fuel of Eva Peron’s rise to prominence – is redoubtable. Fernandez’s is the show’s booming voice, yet he brings appropriate sensitivity to the Peron who in the end must watch his beloved partner physically deteriorating. Truth be told, I’ve never liked the Che device in “Evita.” (He’s not revolutionary Che Guevara, by the way.) It seems like a narrative contrivance, telling us throughout what we should already be thinking about this extraordinary woman who was saint to some, opportunist or hypocrite to others. This is not a criticism of actor A.J. Mendoza at all. He swaggers and comments just as the script prescribes. This show’s crowd-pleasing character is Magaldi, the showman who is also Eva’s first lover and who brings her to Buenos Aires. The animated Matthew Malecki Martinez does not disappoint in the role. “Evita” is bookended by the death of a woman who notably said “My biggest fear in life is to be forgotten.” Fear not, Eva. “Evita” runs through Oct. 1 at Cygnet Theatre in Old Town. A rumpled Tom McGowan (left) stars in "The Merry Wives of Windsor." Photo by Rich Soublet II It is said that Shakespeare wrote “The Merry Wives of Windsor” at the behest (demand?) of Queen Elizabeth I who wanted a play about the Falstaff character from the “Henry” histories dabbling at love. The Bard, the story goes, had only a couple of weeks to comply.
The result was “The Merry Wives of Windsor,” a trifle that finds the corpulent Sir John Falstaff pitching woo (or haplessly trying to pitch it) to the married Mistress Ford and Mistress Page. Why it takes five acts to dramatize the misadventures of “Merry Wives” is a mystery. It can only be attributed to Shakespeare’s prolificacy. It’s a frequently funny but highly redundant comedy. Perhaps knowing this, the creative team behind the Old Globe’s Summer Shakespeare Festival production of “The Merry Wives of Windsor” has chosen to go the route of the madcap ‘50s sitcom (see “I Love Lucy”). Sight gags and bits of shtick abound. The only thing missing is a laugh track. The motif is a mashup -- in costumes, sets and timely “modifications” to Shakespeare’s script -- of the wholesome postwar decade of “Lucy” and “Leave It to Beaver,” the classic American drive-in diner, and the rebel spirit of James Dean and Elvis. Director James Vasquez gives his large cast full, free rein. To some extent, that works just fine: As the wives courted by Falstaff who are then determined to exact delicious revenge on him (that’s it: the entire, paper-thin plot), Angela Pierce (as Mrs. Ford) and Ruibo Qian (as Mrs. Page) are wily and formidable schemers in the Lucy-and-Ethel tradition. This production’s Falstaff, Tom McGowan, lopes along like a big unmade bed, and he’s so un-lecherous acting that you almost feel sorry for his being duped by the two wives. McGowan never overplays his hand, regardless of the ridiculous situations Falstaff finds himself in, whether it’s dressed up like an old woman, antlered like Herne the Hunter, or climbing into a laundry basket reeking of soiled clothing. Conversely, Jenn Harris’ Mistress Quickly is played so broadly she makes McGowan look sheepish in their scenes together. And Jesse J. Perez’s French accent as Dr. Caius is pure Pepe Le Pew. The genuine star of this “Merry Wives,” with apologies to the very good McGowan, is the revolving, multi-scene set created by Diggle. It’s one of the best and most versatile I’ve ever seen in a Summer Shakespeare production at the Globe. There’s of course the quintessential ‘50s diner, with soda fountain, flanked by palm trees. The two-story digs of the Pages and Fords is just a rotation away, as is Windsor Park, site of the culminating teasing dance of the “fairies.” The seamless scene changes allow the second half of the story to unfold just as seamlessly, making Act Two of the show the swifter and more engaging. Lex Liang’s costumes for all are delightfully evocative of the period. Each outfit reflects the nature of the character, from Mistresses Ford and Page’s smart dresses to the leather and denim worn by Fenton (Jose Balistrieri), the Fonzie-like suitor of the Pages’ daughter, Anne. Under the direction of sound designer Melanie Chen Cole, the action is punctuated by the rumble of a motorcycle, the timely gong of a clock and musical transitions that resurrect rock ‘n’ roll oldies of the decade. If you’re getting the impression that this “Merry Wives” is better served by its technicals than its narrative heft, you’d be right. It’s lightweight and diverting summer fare but rarely as hilarious as it hopes to be. There’s a painting somewhere by David Scott depicting Queen Elizabeth I watching a performance of “The Merry Wives of Windsor” at the Globe Theatre in London. It’s hard to tell if she’s as smiling in it. We will never know. We do know this: William Shakespeare was her dutiful subject. “The Merry Wives of Windsor” runs through Sept. 3 on the Old Globe’s Lowell Davies Festival Stage in Balboa Park. Naomi Rodgers as Tina Turner. Photo courtesy of MurphyMade I was never fortunate enough to have seen Tina Turner perform in person. For those like me, “Tina -- The Tina Turner Musical” has to come close. A bubbling cauldron of passion and stamina, Naomi Rodgers, star of the national touring production of this Broadway show, channels the late, great Rock and Roll Hall of Famer for two and a half crowd-pleasing hours.
Broadway San Diego is presenting this tour, which comes to town only two months after Turner’s passing at age 83. It’s a visceral biographical musical written by Katori Hall, Frank Ketelaar and Kees Prins and a worthy companion to the 1993 film “What’s Love Got To Do With It” that starred Angela Bassett. Of course there are the second act songs – “What’s Love …”, “Private Dancer,” “We Don’t Need Another Hero,” “(Simply) The Best” – that defined Turner’s emotional comeback and solo career success, and Rodgers’ performance of them, backed by a rocking band that encores with a blistering two-song concert. In large part because of the ’93 film, Turner’s history is well known: her early life in Tennessee as Anna Mae Bullock, her singing in a Baptist church, her separation from her parents; meeting Ike Turner and becoming the star of his act (which both pleased and infuriated him); suffering 16 years of physical and emotional abuse in her marriage to him; going from indebtedness and despair to a resurrected career on her own that would establish her as the “Queen of Rock ‘n’ Roll.” It’s all there in this show, and it’s a story that takes a long while to tell. Subplots stretch it out, especially in the first act, such as Tina’s romance with a member of Ike’s band (Gerard M. Williams) and her estrangement from her mother (Roz White). No sensitivities are spared (nor should they be) in depicting the physical abuse Ike (Roderick Lawrence) inflicts on Tina. It’s less graphic than in the movie, but no less shocking, even though we know it’s coming. The highlight of Act One is the re-creation of Tina’s performance with the Ikettes of “Proud Mary.” It’s clear that Rodgers studied that famous footage. She’s got every movement, inflection and mannerism down pat. While Act Two includes a couple of broad turns – Geoffrey Kidwell as Phil Spector and Zachary Freier-Harrison as Aussie manager Roger Davies – music for the most part transcends the melodrama. Rodgers is simply the best in the second half of the show when she can just let loose as The Legend. “Tina” is a more thoughtfully constructed musical than perhaps it gets credit for. The theatrical integration of Turner’s past with the unfolding story, periodically returning to the stage the figures from her childhood, enhance the thrust of the storytelling. The interruption of the “Proud Mary” performance with Ike’s outbursts accentuates the control he sought to wield over her. The deathbed scene in Act Two with her mother, in which Zelma insists that Tina owes Ike gratitude for making her what she became, avoids cliché. Make no mistake, however: “Tina” is such an entertaining show because of Naomi Rodgers’ dedication to the role and her prodigious talent (and energy!). Tina Turner’s are not easy high-heeled shoes to step into. Lawrence is asked to swagger and rage as Ike, and face it: His despicable character is not going to be a crowd favorite. It’s always awkward when the hard-working actor comes out at the curtain call to be acknowledged and some in the audience boo because of who he, she or they is portraying. A shout-out to White for a genuine performance as Tina’s mother, to Williams for his silken vocal sweetness on “Let’s Stay Together” and to young Ayvah Johnson, a charmer and dazzler as childhood Tina. When this musical opened on Broadway four years ago, Tina Turner joined the cast onstage afterward and told the audience “I’ve never been as happy as I am now.” That’s the best review any tribute show can get. “Tina – The Tina Turner Musical” runs through July 30 at the Civic Theatre, downtown. The fanciful world of "Bottle Shock! The Musical." Photo courtesy of CCAE Theatricals Let me begin with a promise: I will attempt NO wine/alcohol/drinking puns in this discussion of “Bottle Shock! The Musical.”
Glad I got that out of the way. Now. Just two years into its existence, CCAE Theatricals in Escondido has demonstrated its artfulness for staging musicals both urgent (last year’s world-premiere “Witnesses”) and opulent (its production of “Sunday in the Park with George” earlier this year). Another CCAE-produced world premiere, “Bottle Shock! The Musical,” is winding up the company’s 2022-23 season. It’s an adaptation by Charles Vincent Burwell (music and lyrics) and James D. Sasser (books, lyrics, additional music) of the popular cult film “Bottle Shock” from 2008, a somewhat apocryphal telling of the “Judgement of Paris” of 1976. That blind-tasting event is considered a tipping point in the world of wine, when two California vineyards won top honors over the until-then-unsurpassable French. The film is quirky and a little corny, but I liked it a lot. Two performances stood out: Bill Pullman as hard-nosed Jim Barrett, owner of Napa’s Chateau Montelena winery, and Alan Rickman as haughty British wine expert Steven Spurrier. The Napa and Sonoma shooting locations provide escapism and spectacular local color. No theatrical production can approximate that scenery, of course, but credit Jo Winiarski and her team at CCAE Theatricals for some gorgeous backdrops that honor these NorCal wine regions and give “Bottle Shock! The Musical” mood and atmosphere when called for. From a narrative standpoint, Burwell and Sasser’s musical directed by J. Scott Lapp runs very much along the lines of the film that preceded it, which was written by Randall Miller (who also directed), Jody Savin and Ross Schwartz. Chateau Montelena’s Barrett (T.J. Mannix) operates his winery with an iron hand, a strategy that only distances and disengages his directionless son Bo (Will Riddle), who just likes to have a good time. Also in the elder Barrett’s employ but more fiery and fully committed to wine making is young Gustavo Brambilla (Patrick Ortiz). Both Bo and Gustavo have their heads predictably turned by the arrival of an intern from UC Davis, Sam Fulton (Emma Degerstedt), there to learn the business but hardly dressed the part. Barrett and company are visited by the veddy British Spurrier (Louis Pardo), established at the outset of the story as a supreme know-it-all when it comes to wine. He’s curious about what’s being bottled in California and entertaining the thought of bringing something back to his Paris base to compete in the July “Judgement” tasting. Pardo is every bit as snooty and exasperated and comical as Rickman was in the “Bottle Shock” film. It’s a rich character performance, making an unlikable figure highly likable, that rises above all others in this CCAE Theatricals production. Anyway, Jim Barrett is not receptive to Spurrier’s overtures, suspecting that the visitor’s motive is to try to embarrass his winery (and possibly all California wineries) at the Paris wine-tasting. As with the film, the “Bottle Shock” musical version’s story has a built-in challenge when it comes to stakes. Audiences today, like movie watchers then, already know how things turned out: The Americans pulled off an upset in Paris and California wines achieved overdue respect. That leaves for digestion the personal complications of the tale: Will Bo, likewise, win respect from his father and find a way forward in life? Who will Sam choose – Gustavo or Bo? Can Sam reconcile herself with the personal losses of her past? Will Gustavo set out on his own or remain with Jim? Resultantly, many of the musical’s original songs address these questions: Bo’s anguished “Dyin’ On The Vine”; Sam’s wistful “Summer in a Bottle”; Sam’s “You-can-do-it, Bo!” ballad “The Journey of You”; Gustavo’s passionate “In the Blood,” the exciting Act One closer with choreography by Toranika Washington. While beautifully sung, Degerstedt’s numbers are 11 out of 10 on the sincerity scale. Either would qualify for “Spamalot’s” deprecating “The Song That Goes Like This.” Say this for composers Burwell and Sasser: While few of their songs are instantly memorable, they’re altogether more welcome than the film soundtrack’s employment of “China Grove” or “Drivin’ Wheel,” reflective though they may have been of the 1970s. Musically and otherwise, this “Bottle Shock” rocks when it’s simply having fun rather than striving for sincerity. A lot of this goes on at Jo’s Bar, operated by – who else? – Jo (a delightful Taylor Renee Henderson). There, the gang indulges in a tasting (and drinking) competition (“The Contest”); Jo teaches an overworked Sam the restorative power of suds (“It Takes a lot of Beer To Make Good Wine”); and Bo and Gus confront their troubles not with angst but philosophically (“The Bad with the Good”). Moreover, the scenes with Pardo are the most entertaining of all: the airport wine-bottle gambit (if you know the film, you’ll remember how Spurrier, thanks to Bo, manages to transport his case of wine bottles in spite of rules about how many a passenger can carry); and the climactic “Judgement of Paris” sequence, overseen by Spurrier and co-starring four snooty tasters. Next to Pardo, Ortiz is the production’s most engaging character, whether singing or dancing. Ironically, the real-life Gustavo Brambilla, NapaValley.com explains, didn’t join Chateau Montelena until AFTER the “Judgement in Paris” had gone down. This is CCAE Theatricals’ second original musical (after “Witnesses”). It’s a lush and likable production, tamer than the “Bottle Shock” film and a little more earnest. The emotional catharses are familiar. Some of the name-dropped wine vintages are not. So yes, there’s an educational component should you happen to be an aspiring oenophile. “Bottle Shock! The Musical” runs through July 23 at the California Center for the Arts in Escondido. The six wives of "Six the Musical." Photo by Joan Marcus Went to a pop concert Wednesday night and a history lesson broke out. Verily, “Six The Musical” is both – a lot of high-octane pop music and a little Tudor history.
Broadway San Diego is presenting the national tour of “Six,” which was written by two British students, Toby Marlow and Lucy Moss, for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival of 2017. It premiered in the West End two years later and on Broadway in 2020 just before COVID-19 sent everything to hell in a handbasket. It would officially open there in October of 2021. That’s the history of “Six’s” creation and development. The 80-minute musical’s own history – or “her-story” as its cast members call it – is that of the six wives of King Henry VIII, amped up sonically and recounted with a contemporary sensibility and lyrics to match. You know what? It works. “Six” is a thoroughly engaging show with palpable pop music hooks, humor and even a few moments of pathos. The six wives subjected to the narcissism and cruelty of Henry VIII are presented as pop divas channeling icons from Beyonce and Adele to Nicki Minaj and Ariana Grande. After a kinetic opening in which they convey the premise of the evening (“Ex-Wives”) – that each one will have her turn in song to show that she was most abused in her royal marriage – the wives’ proceed in historically chronological order to do just that. Catherine of Aragon (Khaila Wilcoxon) gets things started, all but demanding in her “No Way” number to be crowned most ill-treated. She’s followed by Henry’s Wife No. 2, Anne Boleyn (Storm Lever), who even reluctant history students know suffered the unkindest cut of all from her husband – she was beheaded. Lever’s “Don’t Lose Ur Head” is obviously sardonic but undeniably defiant too. Lever, seen at the Old Globe in “Almost Famous” and more prominently in the theater’s 2021 staging of “Hair,” is a needle-sharp comic presence throughout the show. The transition to Natalie Paris as Jane Seymour, Wife No. 3, brings a change of pace. The longing and forlorn ballad “Heart of Stone” may be “Six’s” best-known tune, and Paris, who otherwise during the evening is quite funny herself, sings the royal heck out of it. Anna of Cleves was the wife that Henry recruited from outside England, though when the German-born Anna met him face to face, he rejected her emphatically. Not as pretty as her portrait, the tyrant’s thinking went. As though giving Henry and superficial men everywhere a middle finger and having a ball doing it, Olivia Donalson romps through “Get Down.” And get down she does. My personal favorite queen moment of the night. Oozing sex appeal as Katherine Howard, Courtney Mack’s “All You Wanna Do” is a fitting bookmark to “Get Down,” also indicting Henry VIII as a user when it came to his wives and women in general. Mack, with her Ariana Grande high ponytail in motion, makes it more sensual than incensed. Catherine Parr was Henry’s sixth and final wife – he died a year before she did. Gabriela Carrillo’s “I Don’t Need Your Love” is a rebuke of the king, who forced her to marry him when she was in love with Thomas Seymour, a brother of Jane’s. Before her song, Carrillo’s Parr suggests that a competition to see who was most victimized is a wrongheaded idea. Which it is. The attempt to transform the tone of the show into an empowerment statement doesn’t fully come off, however. Before you know it, it’s back to the flash with the ensemble performing “Six,” a percussive finale with a flamboyance that would gladden the hearts of Vegas regulars. Neither being conversant in British history nor enamored of power pop is necessary to enjoy “Six.” It’s easy to like and, for some, to love. My niece and her best friend are already planning to see it again. “Six the Musical” runs through July 9 at the Civic Theatre downtown. Greg Germann (left) and Esco Jouley in "Twelfth Night." Photo by Jim Cox I haven’t seen “Twelfth Night, or What You Will” 12 times yet, but they’re adding up. The new production at the Old Globe Theatre directed by Kathleen Marshall makes at least three “Twelfth Nights” for me in the last seven years.
This isn’t a problem by the way. I always enjoy “Twelfth Night,” which I like to think of as The Bard’s sitcom comedy. It’s silly. It’s rife with broad sight gags. Its strictly-comic subplot characters (Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Aguecheek, Feste the fool and the head servant Malvolio) are by far the play’s most diverting figures. They’re spit-laugh funny, too. (So be careful with your sippy cup wines.) Even if you’ve seen “Twelfth Night” as many times as I have. The Globe’s latest staging of “Twelfth Night” (the last was in 2015) in the outdoor Lowell Davies Festival Theatre couldn’t have asked for better actors to fill and have supreme fun with these roles: Cornell Womack’s Sir Toby is loud, boozy and delightfully anarchic; Jason O’Connell takes the jig and leg-kick to hilarious heights as the foppish Sir Andrew; Esco Jouley is the sort of jaunty house clown you’d love to have do all your mischief work for you, and they can sing too; Greg Germann’s Malvolio is stammering, twitching, self-loving … I could keep going. Germann wrings every inch of pomposity out of the character whose appearance in yellow stockings and cross garters may be every “Twelfth Night’s” ultimate comic moment. What transpires with the main characters in the play, the romantic and mistaken-identity machinations involving the nobleman Orsino (Biko-Eisen Martin), noblewoman Olivia (Medina Senghore) and brother-and-sister Viola (Naian Gonzalez Norvind) and Sebastian (Jose Balistrieri), is strictly predictable and practically dull compared to the antics of Sir Toby and company. That said, the cast members portraying them are talented in their own right, with Senghore, who does a sensational swoon across a bench in Act One, the most memorable. This “Twelfth Night” I found less enchanting than the 2015 staging here directed by Rebecca Taichman. Riccardo Hernandez’s gorgeous scenic design with its pools of water and giant red roses was unforgettable as were the costumes by David Israel Reynoso. But the 2023 “Twelfth Night” can hold its own. The Moroccan style backdrop by Lawrence E. Moten III is more of a grand, majestic court, and the set can be rotated for changing scenes and locations in the story. Michael Krass’ costumes, too, and Stephen Strawbridge’s lighting design are thoughtfully conceived. Fine. I’ve seen “Twelfth Night” again and I’ve enjoyed it again. I need a break. Bring on “The Merry Wives of Windsor,” which begins at the Festival Theatre on July 30. I think I’ve only seen that twice before. “Twelfth Night” runs through July 9 at the Old Globe’s Lowell Davies Festival Theatre. Richard Baird in "Public Enemy." Photo courtesy of New Fortune Theatre Company New Fortune Theatre Company’s “Public Enemy” is remarkable for two reasons in particular: First, that the adaptation by David Harrower (“Blackbird”) succeeds in compacting Henrik Ibsen’s sprawling five-act “Enemy of the People” into a swiftly moving 90 minutes and sacrifices none of the essence of the original text. Second, a fervent performance by New Fortune Artistic Director Richard Baird (who also directs “Public Enemy”) that at its crescendo in a relentless diatribe manifests Ibsen’s thrust about the lonely heroism of bearing the truth.
What was true about the original “Enemy of the People” is just as true in “Public Enemy”: The majority don’t want the truth, and the politicians and power brokers look out only for themselves. If New Fortune’s “Public Enemy,” rich with spirited performances as it is, wasn’t so consistently entertaining, it might otherwise be deflating in making its inescapable points. Like: What was so in Ibsen’s Norway of the late 19th century is just as so today in … let’s use America as an example? Yet you come out of this show staged in a small theater at Westminster Presbyterian Church in Point Loma drained from the emotional investment made in Baird’s desperate Dr. Thomas Stockmann but at the same time on a high from the energy of the production. Ibsen’s premise for “Enemy” was straightforward. Stockmann, who is chief medical officer of a spa in a town that is reaping the financial rewards of its popularity, discovers and then verifies that the baths’ waters are poisonous with bacteria. He is determined for the welfare of his fellow citizens to blow the whistle, to put it in contemporary parlance. But there are immediate complications: Stockmann’s brother and rival Peter is the mayor. His father-in-law owns the tannery from which most of the toxins are flowing. At first supported and championed by the editor of the local newspaper and certainly by those in his sphere, Stockmann will prove no match for the wieldings of his power-hungry brother and the town businessmen. All but his wife and three children and a close seafaring friend will turn on him. It’s thrilling, especially in a close space like that in Point Loma, to watch the shifts of mood, intensity and mindset in Baird’s portrayal of Stockmann: elated, initially, at the realization of his discovery; indignant at the resistance and pushback from his brother; simmering with a desire to fight, even destroy said brother in retaliation; incredulous, almost speechless, from the betrayal by his friends; resigned – but just briefly – to his report being quashed before a public hearing; and then a fierce and exhausting monologue, with microphone – an indictment of the stupidity in his midst, a manic confrontation with his being indeed a “public enemy”; and nearly a descent into madness. It’s a triumphant performance. Nick Kennedy makes a formidable adversary as Peter, smug and superior and threatening. As Hovstad, editor of the local Reformer, Trevor Cruse credibly accomplishes the transformation from ally to spineless turncoat. There are fine turns, too, from Neil McDonald as the compromising head of the local businessmen’s association and Amanda Schaar as Stockmann’s wife Katrine. “Public Enemy” addresses the question “What can one man do?” The answer is complicated … and devastating. “Public Enemy” runs through July 2 at Westminster Presbyterian Church in Point Loma. Caroline Neff and Ian Barford in "Another Marriage." Photo by Michael Brosilow I’d always wanted to attend a performance at the Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago, so, finding myself on vacation for a few days in the Windy City, I bought tickets to a Wednesday evening performance of Kate Arrington’s world-premiere dramedy “Another Marriage.”
Arrington is an ensemble member at the Steppenwolf, and this staging of her first play is directed by another ensemble member, Terry Kinney. Alas, “Another Marriage” is a troubled, incomplete-feeling work that wallows in excess messaging and designed “significance” and is not helped by characters who almost to a person are patently unlikable. The opening scene is a promising meet-cute on Steppenwolf’s stage in the round between Nick (Ian Barford) and the ironically named Sunny (Judy Greer). She’s prone to exasperation and fond of f-bombs but is somehow disarmed by a persistent Nick, whose ultimate gesture of wooing her is taking off all his clothes, exposing a less than Adonis like form, before asking her on a date. I don’t think I expected nudity in the first 15 minutes of the play, but that’s fine. It grabs one’s attention, no question. The courtship of Sunny by Nick leads quickly (too quickly?) to married life and you just know that’s going to be fraught with pitfalls. Nick is a “serious writer” who has regular creative blocks will never be – he admits -- commercially successful. Sunny has deeply personal writing ambitions of her own but her frustration and preoccupation get in the way of her productivity. Watching a play about writers has always been laborious for me. They’re invariably portrayed as name-droppingly pretentious or “endearingly” neurotic and we never actually see them write because watching a character write is, well, boring. Nick and Sunny argue a lot and trade pungent observation about peers, academics and Henry James and even make a baby, Josephine, who is named for the mother who tragically lost her life upon giving birth to Sunny. The presence of the baby in the home only brings Nick down, and soon he’s at a cocktail table flirting with a literary agent’s assistant named Macassidy (Caroline Neff) who’s making a daffy attempt at seduction. Quick as a flirty wink, Nick leaves Sunny and baby Josie for Macassidy (bad name, by the way). While all of this is going down in an over-long first act, the grown Josie, or Jo (Nicole Scimeca) stands or sits on the perimeter of the stage with her iPad, digitally monitoring these machinations and reminding the audience (on an overhead display panel) of passages of time or the thrust of each scene. It isn’t until Act 2 that Jo becomes a genuine character, and when she does she spends most of her time telling the audience her grandmother’s story as a means of “completing” the woman’s life in her own name. Nick, self-involved and in love with his own voice if not his own writing, is rarely ever a sympathetic figure even when he tries to do what he thinks “the right thing” is. Barford seems comfortable enough in this skin. Greer’s Sunny is a prodigious swearer (and later a sobber), refusing to play the victim but definitely acting like one. Neff’s Macassidy grows up and grows wiser in the second act, and when she discovers as Sunny did that Nick can’t be relied upon in a marriage for anything but interest in himself she emerges as “Another Marriage’s” one adult character to invest in. Arrington has over-reached with this script, trying to be literary and psychologically probing and cute (Josie has a pet snail) all at the same time; it’s unclear to me through whose eyes we’re seeing all the various interrelated conflicts. Sunny would seem to be that person, but her character is always getting in her own way, lost in a slow burn of love, anger and depression. It's telling that the audience does not know if or when to applaud at the end of the first act or at the end of the play itself. That was the case at least on the night I was there. The Steppenwolf staging is thoughtful enough, employing moody recorded music, depictions of text exchanges on the digital display and spare but useful props. I wanted to like this production as much as I liked the Lincoln Park theater itself. Didn’t happen. “Another Marriage” needs another rewrite. “Another Marriage” runs through July 23 at the Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago. Chilina Kennedy, center, stars as Billie Jean King in "Love All." Photo by Rich Soublet Growing up, the first female athlete I became aware of was Billie Jean King. As the years went by, I came to admire and respect her for much more than her dominance on the tennis court. She was and is a woman of courage, conviction and flat out guts.
So what a thrill to see her in person at La Jolla Playhouse on opening night of “Love All,” the world-premiere play by Anna Deavere Smith based on the 79-year-old King’s extraordinary life. When she was introduced from in front of the stage before the show by Playhouse Artistic Director Christopher Ashley, the audience gave her a loud standing ovation. Standing o’s are rife at most theater productions in town AFTER the performance, but this was the first time I’d ever seen one (or been part of one) before the performance even began. It’s a shame that this was the highlight of the evening. “Love All” looks and sounds like one of those television docudramas of a famous person’s life. King’s passions – for tennis, for fair pay for and equal treatment of woman athletes, for social justice, for the man (and women) she loved – feel overly scripted, hurried, expressed in bromides that I found surprising coming from the pen of the deservedly respected Anna Deavere Smith. King’s story, from childhood into the early 1970s, is dramatized in short mini-scenes directed as if for economy of time by Marc Bruni. (It’s a strange dynamic given that the play overall feels too long.) The while, projections above the stage (by S. Katy Tucker) chronicle the socio-political turmoil that paralleled King’s rise to tennis heights and her championing of critical causes. There’s the JFK assassination, the killing of Dr. Martin Luther King, the prelude to the assassination of Robert Kennedy, the Vietnam War. There’s Muhammad Ali explaining his refusal to kill in Vietnam. There’s the war itself. There’s Kent State. It’s a newsreel that at times overshadows the personal dramas of Billie Jean King being portrayed onstage, such as her relationship with husband Larry King and her exploration of her sexuality. The trip through history, onstage and on the screen, is tiring. A rewritten “Love All” might focus on any of several significant aspects of King’s life rather than trying to Tell It All. Throughout the play and at different ages, the role of King is entrusted to Chilina Kennedy, who is very righteous and quite good. Much as King’s doubles partner and friend Rosie Casals was the brash yin to King’s more serious yang, Elena Hurst, making her Playhouse debut, is just as strident for the cause but a lot more fun. She’s the kind of pal everyone would like to have. As King’s business-minded spouse Larry, John Kroft never seemed dynamic enough for me, while Nancy Lemenager as King’s manager Gladys Heldman, Bianca Amato as young Billie Jean’s coach/mentor Alice Marble and Ben Jacoby as men’s tennis icon Jack Kramer all border on caricaturization. One scene in the second act, which finds a soul-searching King at a retreat, is just silly, complete with misfired Bob Dylan/acid bartender joke. It also serves to weaken what ensues – a telling reunion between King and the “rock star” hairdresser she’d encountered earlier. What “Love All” gets right is its portrayal of the prejudice that Black tennis champion Althea Gibson was subject to – King’s outraged discovery of Gibson having to play a maid in a John Wayne western is one of the production’s few urgent moments – and of otherwise-revered icon Arthur Ashe’s dismissal of women players’ demand for equal pay. There is a lot of tennis history in “Love All,” and it certainly helps to be familiar with it. (King had significant involvement in the crafting of this script.) I find it engrossing, but non-buffs may not. Surprisingly, “Love All” references but does not revisit or act out the famous King vs. Bobby Riggs “Battle of the Sexes.” Instead, it ends with the dedication of the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center, home of the U.S. Open Championship. Then actors, including Amato as King’s wife Ilana Kloss, break character and address the audience as though wrapping up the docudrama. Not ideal. Billie Jean King is worthy of many epic tellings of her life, such an important American figure has she been and still is. “Love All,” at least right now, is not worthy of her. “Love All” runs through July 2 at La Jolla Playhouse’s Mandell Weiss Theatre. |
AuthorDavid L. Coddon is a Southern California theater critic. Archives
May 2024
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