A Pained Pause

YOUR HUMBLE REPORTER IN EDVARD MUNCH MODE, REACTING TO THE PROSPECT OF THE RETURN OF MENOPAUSE THE MUSICAL TO THE LONG WHARF MAINSTAGE THIS SUMMER.

For a body (like the Long Wharf Theatre) to grow and mature and challenge itself, there need to be adjustment periods which unfortunately may sometimes bring extraordinary discomfort, awkwardness, confusion and madness.

Hence, hours before they released their 2011-12 slate of shows (see previous post), the Long Wharf announced that it’s bringing back the crowdpleasing, critically reviled (by this critic, anyway) pop-song rewrite (don’t call it a musical), Menopause The Musical (whoops, they just did), July 12 through Aug. 7 on the theater’s mainstage. Menopause played two summers at the theater previously, in 2006 and 2007. It proved to be a hot flash, commercially speaking, whereas other (frankly better-quality) bookings like the first national tour of Altar Boyz proved to be flashes in pans.

Other Long Wharf summer shows will soon be announced. The theater is also once again hosting one of the theater events for the International Festival of Arts & Ideas—Jack Hitt’s one-man show Making Up the Truth, June 21-24 at Long Wharf Stage II.

Categories: Connecticut Theaters, Long Wharf Theatre, Previews | 1 Comment

The Long Wharf 2011-2012 Season Announcement, annotated with awe

GABRIEL KAHANE PERFORMING AT THE LONG WHARF THEATRE’S 2011-12 SEASON ANNOUNCEMENT. PHOTO COURTESY OF LONG WHARF THEATRE.

The Long Wharf Theater’s 2011-12 season looks pretty good on paper—two musicals, a Shakespeare, a Christmas show, a supernatural comedy set in the 1950s and a dark human drama set in the ’40, plus one show still to be announced.

But it felt even better Monday night, hearing it announced and described by Long Wharf artistic director Gordon Edelstein, then actually being able experience pieces of two of the shows firsthand.

If singer/songwriter Gabriel Kahane, who got both indie icon Sufjan Stevens and bluegrass virtuoso Chris Thile to appear on his first pop album, and who is renowned in the neo-classical scene as the composer of the quirky web-savvy piece craigslistlieder, were to make an unexpected appearance at a club like The Space or Café Nine, playing three brand new songs, you can imagine the gleeful frenzy.

Well, yesterday, Kahane did that trick at the Long Wharf, where it was proudly revealed that the theater was a co-producer of his new musical February House, already announced as part of next season at the New York Public Theatre.

The Long Wharf actually gets February House first Feb. 15-March 18, 2012. (It moves to New York in May/June.) The relatively intimate show, which reportedly has a cast of eight and a five-piece band, will be staged in Long Wharf’s smaller Stage II venue—same place where Kahane premiered three of February House’s songs last night.

The musical’s based on the real-life occasion when some of the leading cultural lights of the first half of the 20th century—poet W.H. Auden, novelist Carson McCullers, composer Benjamin Britten and stripper Gypsy Rose Lee—became housemates in Brooklyn Heights due to the coaxing of erstwhile Harper’s Bazaar editor George Davis. The musical February House is based on Sherill Tippin’s 2005 book of the same name; Kahane told me Tippin passed on boxes and boxes of research materials to him. Kahane’s credit for the show reads “songs and lyrics,” while Seth Bockley—the Chicago-based playwright known for thinking visually and working well with designers and on “devised” ensemble works—is doing the libretto. Davis McCallum will direct.

For the Long Wharf festivities, Kahane did three numbers—two on banjo, one on piano. First he plucked a catchy riff for a confessional song sung in the show by the Carson McCullers character, with the refrain “My communion at Coney Island.” Then he sat at the piano for a rousing ensemble number about George Davis convincing the artists and their lovers to all set up housekeeping together. The recurring phrase this time was “comes together”: “A room comes together,” “a house comes together.” Then he hopped across the stage and picked up the banjo again, for a wistful ballad, a lullaby to the house in fact: “Sing goodnight to the boarding house.”

Kahane has the ability to work in many styles. These were songs, as you’d find in a club set. No hints of heavy arrangements, and the lyrics shone through. A memorable appetite-whetting preview of a show we now have to wait eight months to see.

February House falls right in the middle of the Long Wharf 2011-12 season. Here’s the rest of it:

September 14 through October 16 is The TBA slot. A press release boasts that it will be “a work from a major playwright.” Edelstein told me that he won’t be directing it, if that’s any kind of clue. It’s also happening at Stage II, not on the mainstage.

Oct. 26 through November 20: Ain’t Misbehavin’.

That surefire late-1970s revue of 1930s Fats Waller songs, the Broadway hit which, for better or worse, led off the whole “jukebox musical” craze. Edelstein was able to put a creative spin on this project and make it seem like more than a crowdpleasing commercial consideration: He’s enticed Richard Maltby Jr., who created the show with Murray Horwitz and who directed its original production at the Manhattan Theatre Club, to bring it back to those cabaret-scaled roots. Edelstein noted that Maltby has a strong prior relationship with Long Wharf

Vocalist Julia Lima and pianist Billy McDaniel were enlisted to do two numbers from the show at Monday’s announcement: “Handful of Keys” and “Keepin’ Out of Mischief Now.” Those numbers both fall safely between the show’s blues and swing extremes; you’ll have to wait until October for sultry stuff like “The Viper’s Drag” or rousers like “The Joint is Jumpin’.”

December 7 through 30: It’s a Wonderful Life—A Live Radio Play.

Long Wharf’s attempt to build a hardy seasonal perennial along the lines of A Christmas Carol at Hartford Stage, or A Christmas Carol at the Shubert, or A Christmas Carol at… Well, we should just be thankful that the Long Wharf has avoided doing another Christmas Carol. The theater’s previous holiday offerings have ranged from the world premiere of Paula Vogel’s grand historical pageant A Civil War Christmas to the wacky one-person shows Sister’s Christmas Catechism and My Mother’s Italian, My Father’s Jewish and I’m Home for the Holidays.

This adaptation of the heartwarming Jimmy Stewart movie was wrought by Bridgeport-based playwright Joe Landry. It played every year at the Stamford Center for the Arts’ Rich Forum while that was still an active theater, and has since been done at regional theaters from Rhode Island to California.

January 18 through February 12: Macbeth 1969: Shakespeare’s militaristic tragedy reconceived for the Vietnam War-era America by wunderkind Long Wharf Associate Artistic Director Eric Ting. Macbeth and the other soldiers are returning veterans, the weird sisters are VA hospital nurses and a total cast of six encompasses all the emotional turmoil and dreams of Shakespeare’s play.

Following the aforementioned February House (which plays February 15 through March 18 in Stage II), spring appears via the romantic comedy Bell, Book and Candle. The time is right for a revival of this skillfully written romantic comedy by John Van Druten, the prolific British playwright whose straight-play dramatization of Christopher Isherwood’s Berlin Stories became the basis of the musical Cabaret and whose other mid-20th century hits include The Voice of the Turtle and I Remember Mama. Bell, Book and Candle has been in the air lately: Ernie Kovacs, who has scene-stealing moments in the film version of the play, has just been celebrated with a major box set of his TV work, and Sol Saks, who created the famous 1960s TV series inspired by Bell, Book & Candle—Bewitched, starring Elizabeth Montgomery, Agnes Moorhead and interchangeable Darrins—died last week. The TV series was a breezy delight, but the play is more attuned to changing times, especially in its characterization of witches as a feared and misunderstood yet powerful and committed segment of society. In his description of the play Monday, Edelstein astutely labeled it “a romance between a witch and, shall we say, a straight person.” Long Wharf will present the co-production first, March 7 through April 1; Hartford Stage gets it April 4-29.

The Long Wharf 2011-12 slate ends with the only show to be personally directed by artistic director Gordon Edelstein this season. (He’s often done two a season.) It has the potential to be a real cross-generational crowdpleaser, one which could draw in both the historical-novel book club readers and the comic book fanboys.

It’s Sophie’s Choice, starring Carla Gugino.

In discussing the project on Monday, Edelstein mentioned how the famous 1982 film version skewed William Styron’s massive novel into the story of its titular immigrant heroine, when the full novel is more of a coming-of-age story for the young male protagonist Stingo. Acknowledging the darkness and depression in the tale, and the plot’s connection to Styron’s own time in New York as a young man, Edelstein characterized it as “Dante’s Inferno” for Stingo/Styron, with Sophie as “his Beatrice.”

That angle is apparently restored in the new script version by David Rintels (best known for penning the one-man show Clarence Darrown, which became a sturdy touring vehicle for Henry Fonda and Leslie Nielsen). Rintels was given the rights to adapt the book by Styron himself, shortly before the novelist died last year.

It’s the first time Sophie’s Choice has been adapted as a play, though a decade ago Nicholas Maw made it into an opera (first done in London in 2002, and given its American premiere in 2006). The Long Wharf production is a world premiere, and will be workshopped in New York before coming to New Haven for further rehearsals and its April 2012 opening.

Edelstein noted how physically attracted Stingo is to Sophie in the book. That’s part of the genius in casting Carla Gugino, pin-up passion of countless teen boys who know her as Sally Jupiter (aka Silk Spectre) in the movie version of Watchmen, or as the naked gun-toting broad Lucille roused out of bed by Mickey Rourke in Sin City, or as the action-packed U.S. Marshall heroine of the TV series Karen Sisco, or as the Spy Mom in the Spy Kids movies, or as Vincent Chase’s Hollywood agent Amanda on Entourage. Here’s a Sophie who’s done movies with Robert DeNiro and Forest Whitaker, and who’s posed near-nude for lad mags.

Gugino’s also one of those actresses who gained fans early in her career by being noticeable as more than just a pretty face, in a slew of thankless or underwritten roles. She was Michael J. Fox’s romantic interest for the entire first season of Spin City, Dr. Gina Simon on Chicago Hope and Sydney, the affair-ridden wife of Ian St. James on the prime-time soap Falcon Crest. She has a history of smartening up every character she plays. Her theater resume is less expansive than her screen one, but no less impressive: Tennessee Williams’ Suddenly Last Summer and Arthur Miller’s After the Fall, both for the Roundabout Theatre Company, and a Tony nomination for the Broadway production of O’Neill’s Desire Under the Elms (which transferred from Chicago’s Goodman Theater). The range of projects she involves herself in, from blockbuster comedies (Night at the Museum) to kiddie sequels (Homeward Bound 2) to cult films (The Singing Detective) to Sundance indies and mockumentaries, is dazzling. Sophie’s Choice is just another bold and exciting choice in Carla Gugino’s admirably unpredictable and exhilarating career.

Edelstein noted the geographical and historical links between February House (set in Brooklyn Heights, New York, in the early 1940s) and Sophie’s Choice (Brooklyn, 1946). He could have added that Ain’t Misbehavin’ is only a few dozen miles a decade or so further down the road (its score emanates from the Harlem Renaissance of the late 1920s/early 1930s) and that Bell, Book and Candle is also a New York piece, set in Greenwich Village in the late 1950s. Yet this is nonetheless a far-flung, delicately balanced season of thrills, chills, pathos and cheeriness that Connecticut audiences should be advised to flock to.

The Long Wharf hasn’t always done these season-announcement presentations. The presence of Gabriel Kahane made me flash back to an event touting the 2002-03 season, which included actors singing Duncan Shiek songs from the musical Spring Awakening, which Long Wharf ending up not doing after all. If any of THESE shows don’t happen, I’ll be weeping. Yes, even It’s a Wonderful Life—Eric Ting’s directing it, right before he does Macbeth!

GORDON EDELSTEIN ANNOUNCING THE 2011-12 LONG WHARF SEASON. PHOTO COURTESY OF LONG WHARF THEATRE.

Categories: Connecticut Theaters, Long Wharf Theatre, Previews | 1 Comment

Five Trashy Theater Novels

From the vast Christopher Arnott Collection of Trashy Theater Literature

Dream Street

(1946, Avon) by Robert Sylvester, the theater gossip columnist for the New York Daily News.

From the back cover:

Jake picked himself one luscious ingénue, Penny Farmer, from the thousand pretty faces on Broadway and set out to send her skyrocketing to fame under the klieglights. Beneatht the gaudy neon signs and the make-believe backdrops of the Broadway beat there unfolds a piquant and gay tale of a tenacious guy with an ambition and a tempting girl with a talent.

Excerpt:

“Come on,” he said. He tucked her arm under his. “Here’s a goon you’ve simply got to know.” He took her over to Eddie Morris. Eddie was still in his hat and overcoat and he took a stance at their approach. He planted his feet wide, something like Jimmy Durante, and he held his arms away from his body, palms turned outward.

“Are you kidding?,” he shouted at Jake. “What is this, the Keeley Cure?”

“This is Eddie Morris, Penny,” Jake said. “The man who puts all the funny stuff in all the funny shows.”

“What goes, chick?” Eddie said rapidly, shaking hands. He gave her a fast once-over and now his eyes were taking in the room again. “What are you doing with this tired character?” he asked her.

Chad Hanna

(1940, PermaBooks), by Walter D. Edmonds, author of Drums Along the Mohawk.

From the back cover:

This is the bawdy, brawling story of carnival life in the last century—when the best show on earth was the one that could wipe out any competition with force—and when the girls who traveled with the circuses were as tough as the men.

Excerpt:

“I won’t feel right till we get the wagons rolling. Wish to God they was rolling now. Suppose he decides to send his hyenas up here before the tear-down.”

Bastock shook his head.

“He won’t. You got to run a circus like a habit. You got to all-out, and you got to tear down, and roll the wagons. You start doing different and you’re bound to get stuck, just like trying to eat with your back end. Besides, he’ll want to get his wagons out of town before any trouble starts. Then he won’t know nothing.”

The Self-Starting Wheel

(1960, Avon) by William Murray, best-known for his series of “Shifty Lou Anderson” horseracing mysteries and for his “Letter from Italy” to The New Yorker. He mentions The Self-Starting Wheel in his memoir Janet, My Mother and Me, as “a failure, due mostly to my own stupidity.”

From the back cover:

It was just another summer of gin and sun, with the same gilded refugees from Madison Avenue and broadway drowning consciences in carefree debauchery—gay and otherwise. Then came Max.

Excerpt:

Why don’t you ask me what I’m doing?”
“All right, what are you doing?”

“I have a play.”

“That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”
“I’m the Assistant Director and also the Stage Manager, it’s a new play by a very exciting new talent, it’s going to be done at one of the very best of the Off-Broadway theaters, it’s a wonderful play and aren’t I luck>” The words had all come tumbling out, as if she had memorized each phrase, and she finished quite breathless, her mouth frozen into a thin tight smile.

“You don’t sound very happy,” I said.

“Well I am.”

“Then I’m happy for you.”

She sat up, suddenly, spilling more of the whisky on my floor. “You want to know something?”

“What?”

“It’s a lousy play and the producer wants me to sleep with him. Trite, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Jet-Set Bisexuals

(1982, Midwood Books) by Jim Curry. Explicit porn set at the funeral of an universally despised yet extremely well-endowed Broadway producer. The sex scenes are reminscences from all the actresses, writers and designers the legendary Michael Bricusse, producer of Panache!, screwed (figuratively and literally) during his career. It isn’t really about Jet-Set Bisexuals. The title of the other porn novel in this double volume, Playmates, would have suited it much better.

From the back cover:

Passions burst when there’s a change of mates—and gender—among jet-set swingers.

[Like I said, the book isn’t actually about that at all. Just don’t want you to think I sully myself with non-theater porn.]

Excerpt:

“I’ll never work with you again,” she said.

“Oh, yes, you will,” said Bricusse. “You’ll work with me because I happen to be the best producer on Broadway. You’re a good lay, Merle. Remember that’s why I’m letting you out of your contract. ‘Cause you’re a good lay.”
“Bastard,” she said and pulled a bunch of roses from a vase and threw them at him.

“Flowers for me?” he laughed. Well, thank you. I didn’t think you enjoyed my cock that much.”

The Play

(1987,Fawcett Juniper) by Susan Johnson. This young adult novel is the only one of the dozens of romances which is listed as “out-of-print’ at susanjohnsonauthor.com. Among Johnson’s other works: Sinful, Taboo, Wicked, Hot Legs, Hot Pink, Hot Spot, Hot Streak and Hot Property.

From the back cover:

What a complete surprise to be cast opposite Cameron, who wasn’t the least bit stuck up, the way you might expect, even though he was the perfect hunk of a football captain. Like everyone, Marika assumed Cameron’s girlfriends Tiffany, a senior, would win the role. But Ms. Healy, the director, has some strange ideas, and now Marika is cast as Angela, which calls for her to kiss Cameron four times!

Excerpt:

“Have you ever seen such brilliant blue eyes or such long lashes, and that lusciuous body…yum! He could have played Tarzan in the Bo Derek movie.”

“Too bad Ms. Healy chopped the kissing until later rehearsals.”

“Ummm,” Marika replied vaguely while Cameron’s voice was whispering in her mind. How about rehearsing…on our own. How about… Silly goose, she thought, stopping her imagination from running wild; he was only teasing.

Categories: Books & Magazines, Lists | 1 Comment

The Italian-American Reconciliation Review

Italian-American Reconciliation

By John Patrick Shanley. Directed by Eric Ting. Set design by Scott Bradley. Costume design by Lindo Cho. Lighting design by Russell Champa. Sound design by Sarah Pickett. Stage manager: Megan Scwarz Dickert. Performed by John Procaccino (Aldo), Lisa Birnbaum (Janice), Mike Crane (Huey), Stephanie DiMaggio (Teresa) and Socorro Santiago (Aunt May).

Through May 22 at the Long Wharf Theatre, New Haven.

 

Eric Ting knows how to build up a talky show’s other elements like nobody’s business.

Seems as if he takes the fleshing out of the physical parts of a loquacious play as a personal challenge. (Coming soon: Eric Ting directs the Telephone Directory!)

Ting did it with a couple of long-form monologues in the intimate Long Wharf Stage II, orchestrating dressing-up games for Bad Dates and having Mark Nelson dance between the drops from a leaky roof in Underneath the Lintel. On the mainstage, he went even grander with the water effects for the stage version of Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye, and also played up the youthful child’s-play aspects of the piece. Ting had a co-scripting hand in another mainstage lit adaptation— Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea—which was enlivened with an onstage musician. Most recently, he fused the new play Agnes Under the Big Top (the script of which lurches from long monologues to long periods of silent reflection) with the sounds of shadows of a subway tunnel.

Even a relatively straightforward production like last season’s rendition of A.R. Gurney’s Sylvia—Ting’s previous go-round with the star of Italian-American Reconciliation, John Procaccino—used the Long Wharf’s thrust stage cleverly to add three dimensions (grander entrances, intriguing spatial relationships) to what is often a one-dimensional comedy.

The wonder of Italian-American Reconciliation isn’t that Ting and his cast create a full-blown realistic environment to enhance John Patrick Shanley’s longwinded, often philosophical comedy. The clever part is that they only create part of that environment, and creative theatrical problem-solving fills in the rest.

The play’s setting is New York’s Little Italy in the 1970s. This production’s setting is a VFW banquet hall where a wedding has just been held, such a timeless setting that this play could be happening anytime in the last 40 years. The cast initially emerge as part of this fresh environmental staging concept: Procaccino (play Aldo Scalicki, the narrator of this dramatic comedy) is  the wedding guest who won’t leave the hall, staying on to spin yarns and polish off a few extra glasses of wine. Socorro Santiago (Aunt May) is shown working in the kitchen. Huey Bonfigilano (the romantic lead, played by Mike Crane) is a busboy. Stephanie DiMaggio (Teresa) has an accordion in her hands.

The acclimation to this Italian dining hall starts while audience members are still finding their seats. On opening night, Procaccino held a long, silent, across-the-room conversation-of-gestures with Long Wharf artistic director Gordon Edelstein (seated midway back in section D of the auditorium).

Procaccino is also charged with delivering the pre-show “in case of emergency” and “turn off your phones” speeches. By the time he gets to the show’s conceit that he’s here to share a story and a life lesson with you, he’s an old friend. When he announces proudly that his mother’s in the audience—a point where the pre-show improvisation has ceased and Shanley’s intricately woven script has taken over—the audience completely buys into it, and applauds with sincerity.

From there, the production proceeds as if Procaccino’s genial guy (he’s working his Art Carney side again here, as he did on the same Long Wharf mainstage in Dario Fo’s We Won’t Pay! We Won’t Pay! in 2004) and the kitchen staff were supernaturally stirred to stage a romantic tale of love lost and regained, using whatever’s available—a staple gun for a zipgun, a stepladder for a balcony. It comes off as a realer-world Fantasticks, with a downtrodden troupe pulling into a desolate spot and performing their love story because they just must. The concept doesn’t hold up to deep scrutiny, since special effects do start flying after a while, and the relationships of the kitchen characters run the risk of skewing those of the romance’s characters. But what might not fly dramaturgically is nonetheless brilliant as an involving and disarming environmental device.

What such a staging really emphasizes is Shanley’s deft ear for characters who feel trapped by their families, their upbringings and their jobs. The fear of breaking with convention, going against the status quo, and doing what one is aching to do is the common element in such disparate Shanley works as Doubt, Joe vs. the Volcano, and this.

Building up the cultural environment beyond Shanley’s articulated accented spats and rants is the same impulse that Norman Jewison used when he directed Moonstruck, Shanley’s remarkably similar screenplay about Little Italy written around the same time as Italian-American Reconciliation. When Jewison wanted to surround Moonstruck  story in Italian-American culture, he simply had to film the streets of New York, and an opera at the Met. The Long Wharf accomplishes the same immersion by adding as many personal interactions and background crises as possible. Shirts are stained with wine. There’s a fire in the kitchen. There’s endless clean-up work to be done. All in the service of subtextualizing and extending the human nature, psychological nuances and cultural signifiers of Shanley’s script.

There are many smart small details in this production, so many of them that you begin to admire the fact that they don’t detract from the main plot. Huey wants to get back together with his ex-wife Janice. To do so would obviously ruin his relationship with his sweet current girlfriend Teresa. Aldo, is at first incredulous but plucks up courage to help his lifelong friend out of sheer dumb loyalty.

This is a mythic construct which mirrors the Archie/Betty/Veronica/Jughead love quadrangle in comic books I’ve personally been devoted to all my life. The scenario transfers smoothly to the stage. Janice, the ball-busting beauty, is given a sensational second-act entrance, but the real magic is in the pouting smirk and dagger glances of Lisa Birnbaum, who plays Janice as less of a bitch than as an attractive woman who’s had to lace herself up in so much protective armor that she’s smothering herself. As Teresa, Stephanie DiMaggio must turn on a dime emotionally, from head-over-heels in love to fighting mad to vulnerably and confused, and she does so believably. Socorro Santiago takes a comic-relief oputspoken-wise-old-woman role and adds a jolt of world-weariness that amplifies how reckless the other characters’ bouts of energy can seem. Mike Crane, slight and wiry and always on edge, is a Huey Buonfigilano that you won’t necessarily root for but can definitely feel for.

All these characters—balancing their outpourings of sweat, blood and affection with the game artifice of playing out a love story with a VFW hall as a stage—are encompassed in the grander format of John Procaccino as Aldo Scalicki, setting that stage and storytelling its action, then gliding in and out of it as a character. The tone is an ensemble one, the setting ramped up a notch by the inventive set-pieces and sight-gags and environmental enhancements. But the pace is Proccacino’s, and he keeps it light and funny and cordial even when the mood threatens to turn dark and menacing.

For a show about manic relationships in a tight community, set in a large old hall after a wild wedding, this kitchen-sink comedy really cleans up.

Categories: Connecticut Theaters, Long Wharf Theatre, Reviews of Shows | 1 Comment

Coffee with the Carlotta Playwrights: Christina Anderson, Dipika Guha and Meg Miroshnik

Tonight marks the start of the sixth annual Carlotta Festival of New Plays at the Yale School of Drama.

I had coffee this morning at Willoughby’s on York Street with the three playwrights for whom the festival marks the end of their three years in the School of Drama program. No tech-week anxiety or opening-night jitters in evidence. That’s what an Ivy League education can get you. We had a thoughtful discussion about process, education and personal goals.

This is the first group of playwriting students who’ve gone through all three years of the program with department chair Paula Vogel, who took the gig in 2009.

All three are in the thrall of Vogel, and more than one of them admits that she’d have applied to Brown (where Vogel taught for over 20 years) had the Pulitzer-winning playwright and revered teacher still been there and not joined the Yale faculty three years ago.

For Christina Anderson, whose Blacktop Sky concerns a homeless man living in the courtyard of a housing project, coming to Yale was about “working with Paula and having time to write. I had been working as a paralegal, and assuming that I’d be able to write while doing 100-hour work weeks. I had lots of first drafts. It was time to write.”

“I would echo that,” says Dipika Guha, author of Passing, a drama which deals with concepts of loss, memory and survival.

“Paula builds this amazing community,” adds Meg Miroshkin, whose sports-themed smalltown adventure The Tall Girls is the third of the three Carlotta Plays to premiere this weekend. “This was an opportunity to enter that community.”

Vogel’s reputation as a teacher is exalted, and well deserved. Yet her coming to New Haven augmented, rather than jumpstarted, an already strong Yale playwriting program.

Case in point: The Carlotta Festival. Founded with a bequest from Eugene O’Neill’s widow Carlotta Monterey, it’s an ideal forum for Vogel’s stated goals of giving students a real showcase for their work. But the festival was the brainchild of Vogel’s predecessor, Richard Nelson. Like Vogel, Nelson is a prolific, oft-produced, internationally renowned playwright able to impart not just writing tips but real-world experience in the sometimes treacherous world of commercial theater. In the six years since the new-play festival was founded, many of the student playwrights have said that the existence of the Carlotta Festival was what clinched their decision to apply to Yale.

The Carlotta lets playwrights experience full productions rather than readings of their work, and lets them work closely with directors and designers, exhibiting the results before large “real” audiences. It offers a collaborative process and an opportunity for feedback on a scale much grander which the students have experienced through class projects and more limited school productions of their work. This year’s three full-length Carlotta shows play in repertory May 6-8 and 10-14, each getting seen four times.

This year, the Carlotta Festival is more of a conscious showcase than ever. The final two days of the the 10-day festival have been designated “Professionals Weekend.” Producers, managers, agents and other industry types have always been represented in Carlotta audiences, but this is the first time they’ve been so actively courted and accommodated.

“Definitely, the Carlotta is the only opportunity to work with so many of the other departments” at the School of Drama, says Christina Anderson, whose Blacktop Sky opens the fest tonight. “It’s the one time we get that in this program.” But, she stresses, “there are so many opportunities here—tutorials, labs, different levels of productions.” All three writers availed themselves of the extracurricular Yale Cabaret—which presented an earlier version of Guha’s Passing in March of 2010, Anderson’s Hollow Roots this past January, and two different works by Miroshnik (A Portrait of the Woman as a Young Artist in April 2009 and Good Words in Sept. 2010).

Despite all the showcase trappings, both the School of Drama and its level-headed students want to assure that the scope and hype of the Carlotta Festival doesn’t restrict its value as a place to explore and experiment. It’s a telling point that all three of this year’s Carlotta plays came out of a Paula Vogel classroom exercise—her renowned “bake-offs,” where students are given a textual jumping-off point (a fable or myth, perhaps) or other simple ingredients (an aesthetic style, maybe an emotional state) and are instructed to bash out a basic script with the space of two days. Vogel can conduct two or three bake-offs a year.

The pace of the assignment means “the sensor part  of your brain just shuts down,” Miroshnik explains. “You shut down the inner critic, and the work just flows.”

While Guha’s Passing didn’t come directly from a bake-off, it was a later response to a theme she encountered in the classwork. She agrees that the quick-thinking process helps filter out distractions and discourages “overthinking.”

This is also a chance to use Yale and community resources to their fullest. The playwrights could write with specific performers in mind, or with the sense that certain technical demands could be met.

Anderson, Guha and Miroshnik all say they’ve gained from the open collaborative process which guides the Carlotta Festival. It’s something of a whirlwind experience—they didn’t have to make a final decision about which of the scripts they’ve been working on would be their Carlotta show until last December. Directors from the graduating class of School of Drama’s directing program were assigned (namely Devin Brain for Blacktop Sky and Charlotte Braithwaite for Passing, with recent alumnus Mike Donahue stepping in to direct The Tall Girls since the other graduating student director, Michael McQuilken is involved in a show in New York). Casting was done in January. Designers and other collaborators cleared their decks of other school obligations within the last couple of months. The Yale Cabaret learned a few seasons ago to change when they end their seasons so that they’re done by Carlotta time. The festival consumes the entire drama school, and provides an exceptional send-off for classmates who’ve formed strong bonds through the dozens of theater projects they’ve done in their three years of graduate study.

“For me personally,” Anderson says, “the Carlotta is more sentimental than anything. It’s the last time I’ll see some of these people. Surprisingly, it’s turned into a really fancy goodbye.”

All the playwrights happily attended rehearsals and rewrote their plays as needed. “I actually haven’t stopped rewriting,” Miroshnik laughs, two days before the May 8 debut of her Tall Girls. “Part of the rewriting I did was to cover a transition”—a problem she didn’t notice on the page but could see clearly when actors enlivened it. Miroshnik’s play, about female basketball players in the 1930s, also has some built-in variable that lead to improvisation: “The balls don’t always do what’s expected. Something new always happens.”

Anderson says she hasn’t had to do much rewriting due to a productive week of “table work”—when the actors first get together to read and discuss the script—at the beginning of the rehearsal process. “I don’t do well with actor talk,” she confesses, and tends to have director Devin Brain “translate” the actor’s needs. Still, it’s “a really open room,” she smiles. “People in my rehearsals are not afraid to say ‘I don’t know.’”

Guha also says she “didn’t do much rewriting.” The rehearsal process, she says, “raises a lot of questions. They’re not all questions we want to answer, but it’s the correct evocation of those questions.”

Anderson, Guha and Miroshnik have all had plays produced professionally elsewhere,  and feel that they’ve had plenty of good and open exchanges with directors and actors where they felt their opinions were respected.

As Christina Anderson puts it, “my priority is to learn with every assignment. I chose this play based on whether it was ready for a workshop. I wanted to see it on its feet.”

“You get to work on something,” Meg Miroshkin says, “that you’re excited to invite someone into.”

Categories: Connecticut Theaters, Previews, Yale School of Drama | 7 Comments

R.I.P. Arthur Laurents

I spent an hour and a half on the ‘phone yesterday with Stephen DeRosa, an actor I’ve long admired. DeRosa’s coming to Hartford later this month.

DeRosa and I talked for an hour and a half, about many many things. But mostly he gushed and gushed about the greatness of Arthur Laurents.

I shared his admiration, and was embarrassed to admit that I hadn’t yet read Laurents’ autobiography, Original Story by Arthur Laurents, though I knew its recent follow-up Mainly on Directing (2009). I went to the library yesterday afternoon expressly to find Original Story, but couldn’t. So I downloaded it from Kindle last night.

This morning we all found out that Arthur Laurents died yesterday.

A lot  has been written about Arthur Laurents. A little too much about his outspokenness and irascibility, if you ask me. Writers who defend their work and speak their minds, especially in supposedly collaborative situations like musical theater, should be should be treasured, not denigrated.

Clearly he could hold a grudge. But he could also release a grudge, as is detailed in Patti Lupone’s recent memoir, when he allowed her to take on the role of Mama Rose in Gypsy after years in which the actress and the playwright hadn’t been talking.

He clearly cared about making shows better more than he cared about hurting feelings along the way. Laurents proved his instincts time and again. Even when shows got away from him—Nick & Nora being the most notorious example—there was lots to admire and appreciate. His writing remains singular and challenging, regularly dealing in difficult emotions not often dramatized, and tricky to perform, on mainstream stages: clinical insanity (Anyone Can Whistle), class and culture (I Can Get It for You Wholesale, set in the Jewish garment district of New York), the African-American civil rights movement (Hallelujah, Baby!), foreign affairs (the marital kind, in Time of the Cuckoo) and guilt—as Stephen DeRosa said yesterday, “except for Tony and Maria, everyone is West Side Story is guilty. This show is so groundbreaking.”

As DeRosa put it, “Arthur wears his heart out in the open. Any opinion he has, he gives it at that moment. He’s a man of the greatest integrity. I think that word is the right word: integrity. He is wildly devoted to the theater.”

The West Side Story revival is a case in point. Not only was Laurents involved, he was still updating and tweaking work a show he’d written half a century earlier. It was his idea to add Spanish-language scenes to this new production; he’d seen a production done entirely in Spanish, and was impressed by how intimate the scenes between the Sharks gang members, and with Maria and her friends (“I Feel Pretty) seemed when the characters spoke in their native language. So he added swaths of Spanish to the show.

Stephen DeRosa personally benefited from Laurents’ hands-in approach to any project. DeRosa plays Glad Hand, the well-meaning goofy adult who referees the showstopping Dance in the Gym sequence. When Michael Mastro was cast as Glad Hands for the 2009 Broadway revival, the role was revisited and suited to him. When that revival went on tour and DeRosa was cast, that tiny yet crucial comic-relief part was re-revisited. “I got new jokes,” DeRosa says. “My part, rewritten by Arthur Laurents—brilliant, 93-year-old Arthur Laurents.

“Pretty fucking thrilling.”

Categories: Books & Magazines, Obituaries | Leave a comment

Favoritism Thing

Otherwise Known as the Human Condition—Selected Essays and Reviews by Geoff Dyer (Graywolf Press, 2011).

This 421-page collection of his essays shows Geoff Dyer to be a critic of varied tastes and exceptional range. (He’s equally renowned as a novelist.) The theater doesn’t seem to be one of his areas of expertise, however. Judging by the following blithe statement in an essay titled “My Favorite Things,” he may not realize what a blasphemy he’s spouting to Rodgers & Hammerstein fanatics and to showtune fiends in general.

He begins by arguing that while “some songs…come alive fully only when they are played by their composer,” sometimes “a song can end up being so firmly identified with a particular performer that it changes hands, becomes his, not the composer’s.” For example: “’My Favorite Things,’ well, that’s been a Coltrane song for over thirty years.

The essay, originally published in Lives of the Great Songs (edited by Tim De Lisle and published by the London –based Pavilion press in 1994), then goes on to dismissively view the original composition as “manufactured by the indomitable songwriting factory of Richard Rodgers… This ignorable piece of harmless entertainment then went on to blight the lives of children the world over when, in 1965, it was made into a multi-Oscar-winning film starring Julie Andrews…

“Now the musical, as we all know, is the most worthless film form imaginable,m and of all the irritating moments from this inherently repulsive genre none is more nauseating than when Julie Andrews, reassuring the Trapp children in the midst of a thunderstorm, burst into a list of her favorite things.”

In a few brief paragraphs, Dyer explains how jazz genius John Coltrane was “drawn to these catchy tunes” and made a recording of “My Favorite Things” in October, 1960, several years before the Sound of Music movie was made. He documents how “Trane never tired of playing ‘My Favorite Things’; it almost became his signature tune.” Then there’s two pages of arcane Contrane-iana before Dyer sums up with a note on the tune’s “inexhaustibility” and how “people still play it.”

Dyer does a bit of a self-deprecating summation when he quotes a couplet from eclectic son-of-a-bandleader Elvis Costello’s 1994 tune “This is Hell” (from the Brutal Youth album): “’My Favorite Things are playing again and again/But it’s by Julie Andrews and not by John Coltrane.’

It would be sad to think that jazz musicians only come to “My Favorite Things” because Coltrane did it, just as it would if they only knew “Mack the Knife” from Louis Armstrong or Bobby Darin. One also hopes that musicians are less disparaging of specific musical genres than is Geoff Dyer. Coltrane may have done miraculous things, but for him to take a breezy melody from a Broadway show and turn it into a foundation for jazz improvisation doesn’t mark him as a genius, it marks him as normal. In any case, the number of musical theater composers who were welcomed into both the Broadway and jazz communities of New York are legion, from the pioneering George Gershwin through Cy Coleman to Harry Connick Jr. and George Caldwell (longtime music director of the acclaimed play-with-music Ella). Dyer’s disdain makes for a fun read, but flies in the face of common wisdom. Jazz trims the excesses of Broadway the way punk does for rock, transcending one form by stripping away what was previously perceived as essential (lyrics, narrative character, sometimes even melody) and replacing it with interpretive insights which come from a whole other vantage point. Broadway and jazz have always been tight; favorite things of each other.

Categories: Books & Magazines, Rock Theater | Leave a comment

Theater Brett

Simon Brett is beloved of theater geeks of all stripes for his inspired series of mystery novels starring the so-so professional actor, accomplished amateur crimesolver and prodigious drinker Charles Paris. The Charles Paris books have satirized every aspect of acting, from West End to sitcoms to one-man shows to community theater to books-on-tape recordings (though the best work in that line Charles Paris can get is to recite random words in a dictionary database project).

Brett hasn’t penned a Charles Paris book since Dead Room Farce in 1997, which is too bad. On the other hand, the Charles Paris books have been reborn as radio adaptations starring Bill Nighy, with a different one of the adventures being broadcast every year or two since 1999. Also, in the time since he’s stopped writing so much about plays, Simon Brett has been actually writing plays, eight of which are published by Samuel French.

He’s continued to write mysteries,several a year, notably the Fethering series and the brand new Blotto & Twinks adventures. But his enthusiasm for the theater hasn’t left him, and rises up unexpectedly in the latest Fethering tome, The Shooting in the Shop (published in the U.S. by Gale/Cengage), an aging actress.

Fethering is a place, not a sleuth (or a victim). It’s a quaint British seaside village with retirement homes and the occasional slaying. In The Shooting in the Shop, an aging actress is asked about her relationship to a young woman whose dead body has just been found in a burned-out storefront.

 

“I gather that some newspapers have actually questioned whether you have any connection with the LeBonnier family?”

It was a bold thing to say, and the icy hauteur with which Flora greeted it would have convinced most people of her aristocratic credentials. “I don’t read newspapers,” she announced imperiously. “I never have. Journalists have no interest in the truth; they look only for character assassination and sensation.”

“But don’t you even read reviews of your performances?”

“No, I never have. What possibvle benefit can one gain from reading them? A good notice makes you question yourself to such an extent about what it was you did that was worthy of praise that you become self-conscious; while a bad notice depresses you so much that you never want to work again.”

Which is funny, because in Brett’s Charles Paris not only reads his reviews, he commits the worst ones to memory and interjects them into his commentary on the killings he’s investigating. That’s a wonderful aspect of the Charles Paris books which the Bill Nighy radio series can’t copy.

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Art You on the Bus?

Spring is really sneaking up on me. Like a bus. Honking.

Hard to believe it’s time for the 14th annual Westville Village ArtWalk. Befitting an area of town once renowned for carriage-building and buggy races, this  year the ArtWalk has evolved beyond walking, moving into the world of wheels and mass transit by linking up with the Arts Council of Greater New Haven’s four-year-old Exact Change performance series for a real traveling show on Saturday, May 7.

New Haven has a longstanding obsession with traffic and parking. There’s zoning. Towing. Downtown meters. The fervent bike community and their Critical Mass rides. The fury which greeted the city’s well-meaning attempts to plow and maintain order during the winter’s extraordinary snowstorms.

The infatuation with wheeled transport has naturally inspired performances from time to time. New Haven Theatre Co. did one-acts in open parking spaces, and also ran a puppet/mask performance near a park by using a car as the backstage and part of the stage. In one of its first years, the International Festival of Arts & Ideas hosted a Canadian street-theater troupe that dressed like the guys in “Ped Xing” signs.

Exact Change really talks the talk and rides the ride, putting local artists directly onboard city buses with captive audiences. This takes careful negotiations with CT Transit and real flexibility on the part of the performers. This year’s participants include:

• Choreographer Elaine Peters and her troupe CoCo-Carribe, riding the 12:56 B bus from the Amity Shopping Center to the corner of Whalley Ave. and Fitch St. (Westville), where it stops from 1:02-1:42 beofre heading down Whalley Ave. to New Haven Green.

• Mime performer Sharece Sellem, on the 12:15 p.m. J bus from Westfield Connecticut Post Mall (Door 5) down Kimberly Ave. to the Green.

• Hillhouse Opera Company on the 1:02 D bus starting at BJ’s Plaza (Universal Drive) in North Haven and proceeding down Grand Avenue to the Green, arriving there at 1:46 p.m.

• Spoken word artist Trishi Shuler taking a similar route to Sharece Sellem (in case the scenic beauty of New Haven malls is important to you) on the 12:50 p.m. O bus from Westfield Connecticut Post Mall (Door 5), hitting New Haven Green at 1:33 p.m. but taking Route One this time.

• There’s also a barbershop quartet, Silk ‘n’ Sounds, taking the 1:24 B bus from the Bull Hill Burlington Coat Factory in West Haven to the Green, then holding there until 2:40 p.m., when it moves on along Congress Avenue.

Admission is merely the cost of the ride, a buck and a quarter. Arts details here. Bus details here.

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The Jafferis juggernaut

Thanks to the industrious and radical Aaron Jafferis for making sure that the blogging these days isn’t all about those tyrannic Tonys.

Aarron’s theater has always been street, even when it’s Shakespeare (he did a solo rap routine based on the bard) or trapped in an elevator. His most recent musical, Stuck Elevator, got a prestigious developmental workshop at the Yale School of Drama last year, resulting in a staged reading presented at part of the International Festival of Arts & Ideas. His earlier musical Kingdom, based on real-life stories of members of the Almighty Latin King & Queen Nation, was developed in New Haven (where the Latin Kings have had a presence for decades) through the Bregamos Community Theater and has been seen internationally and at the 2006 New York Musical Theatre Festival.

Jafferis teaches at New Haven’s Educational Center for the Arts magnet high school, and writes to tell me that:

Peter Loffredo and I have been leading a class at ACES ECA in which high school students use hip-hop theatre to create an original play about Education that they will perform on May 5th and 6th at 7 pm in the ECA Arts Hall. They wrote scenes exploring their personal experiences with education, researched contemporary educational issues in various media and presented their findings via hip-hop theatre. Michael DeBarge, a hip-hop musician, has worked with the students to develop music for their written work – incorporating human beatboxing, body percussion, and melody into the hip-hop scenes, and choreographer Yotam Kafri has helped them explore hip-hop movement.

 

Thanks, Aaron! You’ll recognize Peter Loffredo’s name from Connecticut Heritage Productions and as one of the directors/performers/overseers of the Connecticut Stories on Stage playwriting competition mentioned in this blog a couple weeks ago.

The hip-hop education is piece is what Aaron’s up to this week. Next week—May 11 from 5:30 to 7 p.m. at the John Slade Ely House (51 Trumbull St., New Haven) he’s part of a fundraising performance, discussion and party to help the New Haven/Leon Sister City Project and the aforementioned Bregamos Community Theatre create a theater initiative “to create plays as a rehearsal for social justice” in both New Haven and its Nicaraguan sister city. The project will utilize the Theatre of the Oppressed techniques developed by Brazilian director Augusto Boal in the 1970s. (Go look it up—brilliant stuff, which I’ll write more extensively about here some other time.)

Taking it to the streets, via a high school and a 50-year-old community arts center. Go, Aaron!

The ECA Arts Hall is at the corner of Orange and Audubon streets. The Ely House is at 51 Trumbull St., both in New Haven.

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