Stage Struck Review
Reviews for theater within the greater Pasadena area.
Crisis and Regret Make For Dark Comedy: Ayckbourn’s “Woman In Mind” comes to Sierra Madre
Playwright Alan Ayckbourn uses the medium of theater to fiddle with perception on a regular basis, and to both comic and insightful effect. In a move reminiscent (at least in this one way) of Neil Simon, his more recent work sometimes lets the comedy take a back seat to the insight. Indeed, that is true of his “Woman In Mind,” now at the Sierra Madre Playhouse.
The piece is a showcase for one actress who stays onstage the entire time, while dual realities float around her. Almost an homage to bad life choices and the nature of middle-aged regret, it is sometimes wickedly, almost guiltily funny as it looks at one woman – Susan – who has created an alternate reality as a shield against what actually is.
At SMP the part of Susan has been handed to Sharon Sharth, who tackles the role with impressive force. Susan finds her life depressing. Married to a minor vicar more focused on the book he is writing about local lore, yearning for her long-absent son, she must house her oddly inept, widowed sister-in-law, tend her small garden and fling herself against the walls created by an ordinary life. What if she was really married to a rich and loving man, with an estate and a daughter and the kind of life one reads about in magazines? Or is that her real life, and all the rest just some sort of nightmare?
Sharth becomes, in turns, dreamy, bitter, sardonic, defensive and disquieted as she wanders slowly toward the ultimate explosion. It’s quite a performance, and it powers both the play and the performances of the rest of the solid ensemble cast.
Rees Pugh gives just the slightest touch of artificiality to the dream husband, a neat trick which defines the show’s balance of characters. David Hadinger’s staunchly dispassionate vicar seems to define reality, even as Anne Etue’s delightfully cartoonish sister-in-law keeps things from becoming too ponderous. Victoria Mayers’ upbeat, upper crust version of a daughter plays in stark contrast to Nathan Hertz’s disaffected son. As a counterbalance to Etue’s somewhat grotesque ineptitude, Angus McEwan provides the slightly over bred lounger who may be Sharon’s brother.
And then there’s Dan Wingard as the doctor who becomes the odd man out, the only person present in both Sharon’s scenarios. In the midst of the general confusion, he underplays nicely, making his character both nonthreatening and yet the constant nudge toward help Sharon keeps trying not to see.
Director Christian Lebano has an obvious love for this material, and a great sense of stage picture which makes this complex intertwining of realities so easily decipherable. Nothing is made too outrageous. Quick entrances and exits, so necessary to the juxtaposition of realities, are seamless and the piece keeps an intensity of pace which makes it all work. Liz Nankin’s set design creates a garden space with just enough left unseen to allow the audience to travel with Susan between her worlds.
In short, “Woman In Mind” is neither a lighthearted comedy, nor the bitter wallow it could have become. Instead, it balances truth and humor, dreams and disasters, and makes something worth discussing afterward. Still, for those intent upon the more straightforward works SMP has been known for, this will be a mental, and perhaps an emotional stretch. Still, I urge their traditional audience to explore this fine work by one of the last half-century’s most articulate commentators on the human experience.
This is probably not one for children, not because it is so scatological, but because they would find little identification with the issues at hand.
What: “Woman In Mind” When: Through July 7, 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2:30 p.m. Sundays Where: Sierra Madre Playhouse, 87 W. Sierra Madre Blvd. in Sierra Madre How Much: $25 general, $22 students/seniors, $15 children 12 and under Info: (626) 355-4318 or www.womaninmind.com
The Mystery of “The Children” – classical puzzle at The Theatre @ Boston Court
Once again, apologies for the late post, due to health struggles now (hopefully) at an end
I love a good puzzle. I love a play which begins with what we know overtly and then turns that reality upon its head. It can make for edge-of-the-seat watching, if handled right. If not, it can become an exhausting exercise.
At The Theatre at Boston Court, the puzzle is a pleasure. There, Michael Elyanow’s world premiere play “The Children” takes a spin on classical theatrical literature and warps it into a modern setting with surprising, fascinating and deeply satisfying results. Perhaps this comes from the organic nature of the puzzle itself, told by creating characters the audience connects with and an emotional palate which resonates regardless of antiquity, the anomalies which make the puzzle work, or even the fact that two of the protagonists are puppets interacting easily with the humans around them.
The initial premise is a fun anchor. What if, in the ancient Greek story of “Medea,” a handmaid equipped with some of Medea’s magic managed to swoop the children who would otherwise have been murdered into a different time: say a fishing lodge in 21st century Maine? What if, along with those three, Medea’s very faithful slave – the children’s nurse – also was swept accidentally into the present with the intent of returning the children to their fate? What would happen if they were then faced with explaining themselves to the conscientious sheriff intent on moving them to safety as a huge storm approaches?
And this is just for starters.
Sonny Valicenti and Paige Lindsey White handle the brother and sister puppets, allowing them an intricate interaction with their human costars that becomes so effortless one forgets every once in a while that they are not real. Indeed, the two puppeteers turn out to be far more personally engaging, and far more connected to their animated selves, but that is another part of the puzzle.
Adriana Sevahn Nichols, as the more benign rescuer, finds her own balance of practicality, incongruity and nurture as her character stumbles over the time change and the incongruities which develop. As the far more passionate, and intractable nursemaid, Jacqueline Wright vibrates with an underlying ferocity required of a character at once loyal and edgy. Daniel Blinkoff’s philosophical and somewhat ineffective sheriff spreads a kind of calm over even the more desperate moments of the story. Together they are absolutely riveting.
This comes courtesy of the tight and insightful direction of Jessica Kubzansky, who knows just how much to play with the audience and when to make the whole piece feel very straightforward. Add to this Francois-Pierre Couture’s layered set, which he and Kubzansky have filled with subtle clues, and with the layered but heartening script itself, and youhave quite an evening.
This kind of twisting, visual storytelling is the very stuff of theater. Puppets are real. Medea’s children can land in Maine – or do they? In the end, it’s a puzzle you must solve for yourself, and it is genuinely worth the effort.
What: “The Children” When: Through June 10, 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays with an added performance 8 p.m. Wednesday, June 6 Where: The Theatre at Boston Court, 70 N. Mentor Ave. in Pasadena How Much: $34, with senior and student discounts available Info: (626) 683-6883 or www.BostonCourt.org
Here They Come, Those Beautiful “Follies” – A Sondheim classic at the Ahmanson
Those beautiful girls: the cast of “Follies” (photo by Craig Schwartz
Near the top of anyone’s list of the musicals which changed the art form forever is Stephen Sondheim’s “Follies.” With a story line wrapped in the murk of mid-life crises, rosy nostalgia, and personal upheaval, it spoke to theater-goers of the late 20th century as an echo of the times. It speaks still, its universality playing out the disquiets of our unsettling era as well. Add to that songs so strong concert versions of the show have developed an audience of their own, and the yen to see it fully, spectacularly produced again was overwhelming.
Thus, the Kennedy Center production of “Follies,” just opened at the Ahmanson Theatre in Los Angeles. Everything is there: the compelling music, the emotionally charged book, the chance to experience show-stopper after show-stopper. This is what serious musicals in the modern era can be, but rarely are. Directed by Eric Schaeffer with an almost magical attention to detail, it allows for marvelous individual performances in the midst of a sense of ensemble, and stunning (or, in some cases stunningly poignant) visuals.
The story is set in a disintegrating theater, once home to Weismann’s Follies. Before the place is torn down, the man who produced all those shows has invited members of his many years of those shows – all those “Beautiful Girls” – to return for a reunion. Followed by the ghosts of the people they once were, a bevy of women (and a few men) relive their performances and struggle through the differences between their dreams and their lives.
Central to the piece are the duo of couples whose worlds intertwined when the two men were poor, hopeful, and hanging out backstage to meet and date their future wives. Those wives, chorus girls, dreamed of high romance, and worked to be the women the men dreamed of. A lifetime later, one sees how their futures have unraveled.
Jan Maxwell and Victoria Clark in “Follies”
Victoria Clark plays Sally, the Arizona housewife who dashes to New York to meet, once again, the man she has come to believe she should have married. Clark balances the elements of pathos and obsessiveness in Sally without making her either too pitiful or too crazy. That, and she does justice to one of the show’s (and Sondheim’s) greatest torch songs, “Losing My Mind.” Jan Maxwell plays Phyllis, wife of a famed diplomat searching desperately for meaning in her outwardly glamorous but inwardly stultifying life. Maxwell’s Phyllis gradually unpacks a ferocious depth: her spectacularly dark and angry “Could I Leave You?” sends waves of emotion vibrating to the rafters.
Joining them, Danny Burstein makes Sally’s husband Buddy just enough of a shmo to emphasize the stagnation of her life. Then, in the dream sequence at the end, he brings down the house, singing and dancing up a storm with the “God-Why-Don’t-You-Love-Me Blues.” Ron Raines gives the pompous Ben, Phyllis’ husband, just the right balance of aloof command and buried wistfulness. His steadiness is, in itself, an irritant until what’s underneath shines through.
Jayne Houdyshell stops the show in “Follies”
Add to this remarkable single moments: Carol Neblett and Leah Horowitz as the oldest Follies Girl singing an operatic duet with the ghost of herself in her youth, Jayne Houdyshell’s delightfully unexpected “Broadway Baby,” the entire batch of women doing their best attempt at an old tap routine literally backed by their own, younger shadows. Indeed, the entire ensemble, young and old, puts everything into this production, keeping the pace moving and the general tone just light enough to make moments of drama have real punch.
Director Eric Schaeffer has created the large picture within the frame, turning what could be – and sometimes is – a series of mildly connected socko solos into a very cohesive and structured whole. Choreographer Warren Carlyle not only evokes the follies style with a seeming ease, but manages to balance the skills of some of the older performers in ways which keep the pace from slowing at important moments.
Derek McLane’s set design has transformed the Ahmanson into just the right crumbling space, and – again – his dream sequence set captures the essence of that era of theater when people went for beautiful girls on wildly colorful sets. Gregg Barnes’ costumes not only bring back the showgirl look when needed, they subtly define each character’s story in a subtle, structured way.
In short, this thing is luscious and lavish and absolutely a must-see. It is one show which must be done by masters, and this time it is getting the treatment it deserves. Bleak though its tone, it is a musical with something worth hearing interesting characters say, or sing. And if, at the end, problems aren’t solved, they are at least defined, and defined with music which has entered the American songbook, helping to give voice to a generation’s dis-ease. Indeed, subsequent generations have found what was originally said in (can it be) 1971 still rings with the same power, as change continues to outpace our dreams.
What: “Follies” When: Through June 9, 8 p.m. Tuesdays through Fridays, 2 p.m. and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 1 p.m. and 6:30 p.m. Sundays Where: The Ahmanson Theatre, in the Music Center, 135 N. Grand Ave. in downtown Los Angeles How Much: $20 – $150 Info: (213) 628-2772 or www.CenterTheatreGroup.org
Everything Old is New Again: “The Heiress” at Pasadena Playhouse
Heather Tom makes “The Heiress” her own at the Pasadena Playhouse (photo: Jim Cox)
When dealing with a play which some consider a classic, the struggle is always between the production best known – the bellwether for many people, the one they consider “right” – and innovation. This has definitely been true of Ruth and Augustus Goetz’s “The Heiress.” Defined for many by Olivia de Havilland’s Oscar-winning film version, it was redefined in the 1990s in Cherry Jones’ Tony-winning portrayal. Though that new view of an established character gave great pause to some purists, it acknowledged the play as a living thing. This is what theater is supposed to do.
The story itself can be tragic or transformative, based on how the title character is played. A shy young woman, the daughter of a doctor, finds that a handsome young man is interested in her despite her father’s low opinion of her charms. Her father sees the young man as a predator, while his widowed sister embraces the romance which appears to be on the horizon. As the conflict between daughter’s hopes and father’s suspicion plays out, truths of their relationship are bared, while the romantic aunt wrings her hands.
In the new production at the Pasadena Playhouse, Heather Tom has chosen to find middle ground between de Havilland’s gentleness and Jones’ underlying rebellion. Her Catherine, plain and hesitant, confronts her own natural practicality along with her wishes for romance. It works. Richard Chamberlain, as Catherine’s father, vibrates with the festering, self-centered bitterness of a man whose own romantic notions smashed against tragedy too soon. Once the gentility is thinned on each of these characters, the chemical reactions are intense and interesting.
Julia Duffy provides balance as the kindly, well-intentioned aunt, while Steve Coombs makes Morris, the dubious young man, handsome and deceptively at ease in a house of wealth. Elizabeth Tobias turns the maid who observes so much of the upheaval into a far more three-dimensional character that one often sees. Indeed, all the rest of the ensemble provides a rounded and interesting backdrop to this taut story.
Director Damaso Rodriguez balances the personalities of his characters well, keeping the story from ever devolving into the maudlin, and allowing some of the more subtle points of the story and characterizations to have just the gentlest underscore. It means everything to audience engagement, as the layers of emotion settle upon them.
And the thing looks just right. John Iacovelli’s upper crust house, with its mixed aura of self-control and wealth, fits the mood of the piece beautifully. The expertly period costumes of Leah Piehl, worn and used as fits the times, transport one back to pre-civil war New York where this particular character dynamic could so easily appear.
“The Heiress” offers one of the greater female parts in American theatrical literature. To see it reinvented over and over, in subtle gradations of character, is to watch the art of the actor and director at its finest. The artistic image of Catherine cannot remain static any more than one of Hamlet can. Each new generation must take something away from the piece. Rodriguez and Tom know that, and it shows.
What: “The Heiress” When: Through May 20, 8 p.m. Tuesdays through Fridays, 4 p.m. and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 2 p.m. and 7 p.m. Sundays Where: The Pasadena Playhouse, 39 S. El Molino Ave. in Pasadena How Much: $29 – $59 Info: (626) 356-7529 or www.pasadenaplayhouse.org
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Oh no! Not health issues AGAIN…
This year, so far, has been pretty rough. Just as the knee recovers, I have acquired what is commonly called walking pneumonia. Sorry I’m slow with some of the reviews. I hope to pick up the pace soon.
From Opera to Melodrama: Elton John’s Aida makes for pale romance
Adam Lubicz and Amber Thompson work at igniting sparks in Elton John's "Aida" at the Candlelight Pavilion Dinner Theater
This appears to be the season for resurrecting modern musicals which have productions far more impressive than their substance. This leaves a critic with a difficult charge, at least if the production itself is done well.
Take as an example the version of Elton John’s “Aida” at the Candlelight Pavilion Dinner Theater in Claremont. The production shows polish and style. The musical being produced, however, is still Elton John’s “Aida” – one of those shows where you go out humming the set and discussing the costumes, rather than connecting with the storyline, the characters or the songs.
The story of “Aida” first gained fame as an opera by Guiseppi Verdi. It’s towering arias and lush incidental music gained it an immediate following, and it is still seen as a pinnacle performance for great singers around the globe. The thing is, in opera you don’t much care of the plot is silly, or wildly melodramatic, or historically profoundly inaccurate. All that really matters in the end is the music, and generations have found Verdi’s music glorious.
The story follows the romance between Radames, a successful commander of the pharaoh’s army, and a captive Ethiopian slave, Aida, who turns out to be the daughter of the Ethiopian king. Radames is already engaged to Pharoah’s daughter, Amneris, who becomes suspicious of Aida and Radames. Amid war with Aida’s home country, during which her father is captured, and the wrath of Pharaoh, the love affair is as doomed as Romeo and Juliet. Indeed, in the end they are buried alive together.
Elton John and Tim Rice use the same plot, though a simplified version, and essentially the same characters. They do emphasize the racial divide, as Egyptians are portrayed as white, while the Ethiopians they are out to conquer (now called Nubians) are – as they historically were – black. Still, there is little opportunity to become engaged with characters who remain undeveloped as individuals, mostly because the script doesn’t give personality much time.
Sometimes a performance can rise above the essential superficiality. Interestingly, at Candlelight Pavilion, Lindsay Martin’s Amneris does just that, finding the princess’ internal struggle between love and honor, and becoming the most sympathetic of the participants. Amber Thompson provides the richest and most interesting voice, singing with passion and intensity enough to embody her own struggle between nation and heart.
Adam Lubicz strides about with passion as Radames, but the emotional connection between him and Thompson’s Aida remains somewhat unconvincing. John LaLonde would be twirling his mustaches if he had them as Radames’ manipulative father, Zoser. Wesley Mosteller seems likable as Radames’ Nubian slave, whose main job is to give Aida’s position perspective. Monica Quinn Gonzalez, as another of the slaves, becomes important as her character sacrifices herself for Aida while the Nubians work to save their king.
Director /choreographer Paul David Bryant has given this show a continuity and energy which bring the story along. The entire cast has a sense of ensemble, and works as a unit to make the show as dramatic as possible. If I would change one thing, it would be the several moments where Radames takes off his heavy coat, making him instantly smaller and a far less romantic figure.
The sets and props, provided by Riverside Community College, are fascinatingly simple and evocative. The costumes from the Maine State Musical Theater seem rather eclectic – sometimes confusingly so, combining light-weight clothing evocative of Egyptian traditions with heavy robes, tunics and boots more suited to The Lord of the Rings.
In short, if you are fond of Elton John, or wish to see this musical – which admittedly won a Tony for its score, but in a year when most musicals were dance concerts performed to canned recordings of pop tunes – this will be an excellent way to do so. Still, it remains a show which provides spectacle without the essential empathy which makes an interesting musical into an emotional powerhouse.
What: Elton John’s “Aida” When: Through June 3, doors open for dinner at 6 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, and 5 p.m. Sundays, with doors open for lunch and a matinee at 11 a.m. Saturdays and Sundays Where: Candlelight Pavilion Dinner Theater, 455 W. Foothill Blvd. in Claremont How Much: $48 – $68, meal inclusive Info: (909) 626-1254, ext. 1 or www.candlelightpavilion.com
Moliere At His Best: A Noise Within charms with “The Bungler”
JD Cullum as the devious Mascarille and Michael A. Newcomber as the inept Lelie with the cast of "The Bungler" (photo: Craig Swartz)
Few men have had their finger on the pulse of their own time period like Moliere. He made social comedy into an art form, managing to touch on class issues of his own day while creating characters whose foibles prove so human they are still very accessible today. Still, some of Moliere’s comedies are produced more often than others. There is a particular excitement for those who, like me, have experienced multiple productions of “Tartuffe,” “The Imaginary Invalid,” or “The Misanthrope” to discover there may still be a surprise – an unknown treasure to be unearthed on occasion.
Indeed, I have just found one. After seeing “The Bungler” at A Noise Within, I cannot help wonder why it is not one of the more commonly done of Moliere’s work. Graced with comic plot worthy of Abbott and Costello, the silly elegance of an overdressed era, and that universal sympathy for a cheerful scoundrel, it charms from beginning to end, with more than a few genuine belly laughs along the way.
Much of this is due, of course, to the stellar performances of two individuals. JD Cullum engages at every level as the frustrated valet Mascarille. Wily and devious, Mascarille has been pushed by his master, Lelie, to maneuver the beautiful gypsy woman held in bondage by a neighbor into Lelie’s arms. It would seem a rather standard sort of “cunning servant” play. The difference here is Lelie, played as unflappably vapid by Michael A. Newcomer. Trying to be helpful, Lelie manages to thwart his own interests over and over again, pushing Mascarille into ever more outlandish attempts to achieve his goal.
Both Cullum and Newcomer are brilliant – the one radiating energetic intelligence balanced beautifully the other’s blank-but-earnest placidity. Supporting them is an equally impressive cast.
William Dennis Hunt grounds the story as the penurious owner of Lelie’s obsession. As the obsession, Emily Kosloski provides the kind of porcelain beauty one usually finds on Dresden shepherdesses, and most of what she gets to do is be beautiful. Kate Maher, as the woman Lelie is supposed to marry, settles into an interesting air increasing practicality as the insanity around her becomes more and more transparent, rather than just playing a pawn. Stephen Rockwell makes somewhat bemused work of her father.
Mitchell Edmonds operates with a pleasant cluelessness as Lelie’s somewhat impoverished, but cheerful father. Kevin Stidham’s standard young man makes an attractive alternative for Lelie’s fiance. Rafael Goldstein proves earnestly confidential as Mascarille’s informative friend, and Amin El Gamal radiates a kind of creepy warmth as the mysterious Andres. Kabin Thomas and Claire Marie Mannle round out the cast.
Director, and ANW Artistic Director Julia Rodriguez-Elliot has chosen to weave this baroque comedy with aspects of commedia dell’arte, utilizing the masks, music and dance as segues for and punctuation to the production. This general concept of a play within a play makes the thing flow with a lighthearted ease, with just a little aura of the sinister. It all works.
“The Bungler,” in the end, is far from a bungle. It is laugh-out-loud funny, as much due to direction and quality of acting as to Moliere. To be surprised by something around since the time of Louis XIV has its own enjoyment, and is in its way the best proof of the essential artistry of theater, even comic theater, to speak to the human condition. Go if you can. You’ll be glad you did.
What: “The Bungler” When: Through May 27 in repertory with two other plays, 8 p.m. selected Thursdays through Saturdays, 2 p.m. selected Sundays Where: A Noise Within, 3352 E Foothill Blvd. in Pasadena How Much: $42 – $46 Info: (626) 356-3100 ext. 1 or www.ANoiseWithin.org
Is it all a dream? A Noise Within’s “The Illusion” makes the mystical amusing
Deborah Strang, as the sorceress, and Jeff Doba as her longsuffering servant, find much to laugh about as they create "The Illusion" at A Noise Within
Its beginnings have a familiar flavor. A man who long ago tossed his son out as a wastrel has a change of heart, and reaches out for help in finding the boy again. Pierre Corneille’s 17th Century mystical tragi-comedy “The Illusion” takes this essential premise and creates from it humor and intrigue and mysticism enough to keep an audience riveted. Translated by Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Tony Kushner, it ends up with a balance of contemporary wit and classic suspension of disbelief which prove compelling watching.
That is, if one is watching the production of this delight at A Noise Within. The odd tale comes alive because of terrific performances, and because of the whimsical direction of Casey Stangl. The result is a triumph of almost attractive weirdness, consistent humor and whipcrack timing.
Pridamant seeks advice from the sorceress Alcandre in order to find his son. She, assisted by an occasionally speechless or deaf slave named Amanuensis, show Pridamant scenes from his son’s life since his disappearance. Throughout, though he often changes his name, a beautiful woman, a scheming servant girl and a noble opponent reappear in each setting, spurring as many questions as answers – questions which cannot be explained completely until the visions are complete.
Kushner has given this weird tale a tone which diffuses the antiquity of the play itself. The rest is the artistry of the production. Nick Ullett makes Pridamant’s stuffy and judgmental evaluations of his son’s life, and suspicion of the very sorcery he has sought out, funny and recognizable. Deborah Strang gives the sorceress a wry, practical sense which makes her very mysticism more of a science than a dark art. Jeff Doba’s sometimes stoic, sometimes very funny manservant brings all the mystery down to earth.
Graham Hamilton cuts a handsome and romantic figure as Pridamant’s absent son. Devon Sorvari makes a lovely object of his affections. Freddy Douglas gives his rival a snobby authority, while Abby Craden’s wily servant girl often seems to take charge, as she sounds the voice of reason in the many hyper-romantic situations Pridamant is allowed to see. Alan Blumenfeld has a lovely time as the bombastic, ineffective windbag, Matamore.
All of these scenes take place in Keith Mitchell’s mystical cave of a set, where Jeremy Pivnick’s clever lighting moves us from a dank hideaway to the sites of the son’s adventures with the kind of ease only available in the theater. Julie Keen’s evocative costumes (Alcandre’s is especially good – fascinatingly off kilter) set the tone both of mystery and normalcy. The sum total is an evening of lighthearted fun, with a highly entertaining surprise at story’s end.
“The Illusion” is a unique gift in a theater which concentrates on classic material, in that it feels new, both because of the language of the translation and because it is simply not well known. Corneille is far from an undiscovered playwright, but his works have not had the continuous presence in the canon that Moliere, Voltaire or – obviously – Shakespeare and his ilk have enjoyed. One is therefore able to have the delight of surprise, rather than simply the evaluation of a new rendition of something well known. And this is, indeed, a gentle delight.
What: “The Illusion” When: Through May 19 in repertory with two other plays, 8 p.m. selected Fridays and Saturdays, 7 p.m. selected Sundays, with 2 p.m. matinees on some Saturdays and Sundays Where: A Noise Within, 3352 E. Foothill Blvd. in Pasadena How Much: $42 – $46 Info: (626) 356-3100, ext. 1 or www.ANoiseWithin.org
Tough Love: Hospice care highlighted in tender “Holding On – Letting Go”
Iona Morris as Lee, and Barry Wiggins as Bobby share a tender moment, close to the end, in "Holding On - Letting Go" Photo: Carla Fallberg
Few things prove more difficult than handling the moment – and the moments beyond the moment – when someone is given word that a cancer is no longer treatable. A patient blessed with a family circle willing to be involved discovers that the diagnosis hands a life change to everyone he or she cares for. Hospice can help. Hospice can sometimes be critical, aiding both the person living with an inevitable end and those loved ones who must watch that happen.
Such a statement is bound to be met by many – by me – with a wise and knowing nod. Still, in “Holding On – Letting Go” by Bryan Harnetiaux, receiving its premiere at the Fremont Centre Theatre in South Pasadena, one gets to be within arms reach of the struggle. Intelligently written, passionately acted and sponsored by one of the larger hospice services in the area, it walks one couple through the processing of grief. Grim as this may sound, and some audience members seemed overwhelmed by the story’s familiarity, the play offers a window on the wisdom and beauty which can accompany an essentially ugly thing.
Bobby and Lee, both legendary college basketball coaches, are husband and wife. After battling cancer for some time, Bobby finds out his doctors are out of options while his wife is on a recruiting tour. Her return home is where the story of their ending begins. With the introduction of hospice workers into their home, Lee must come to terms with finality, with an invasion of her space, with the shift in her priorities, and with her somewhat over-nurturing mother-in-law.
This could easily boil down into something very cliche, but it doesn’t. Perhaps that is why so many in the audience are so touched. The characters, well-meaning, flawed and genuine, do not become standard issue. The stages of grief, from disbelief to anger to acceptance come in recognizable but personal stages. The role of hospice is defined, and yet this provides only the avenue for exploring character, not the reason for seeing the play.
The true strength of the production is the performers themselves, who take this gentle script and make it vividly real. Iona Morris brings just the right combination of toughness, tamped down agony, and fighting spirit to Lee, a woman who has learned how to fight odds and win, with an innate belief this will work in any situation. Barry Wiggins makes Bobby a gentle man, long-resigned to his own fate but anxious for connection. As Bobby’s mother, Amentha Dymally fusses about with a practicality increasingly obviously used to tamp down her profound sadness.
As the hospice crew, Jill Remez as Bobby’s nurse provides the practical realist whose experience becomes the family’s foundation. Lamar Hughes’ willing and cheerful Gabe offers up a focus on comfort and beauty everyone else is too busy to address. Christian Malmin gives the group’s spiritual advisor, Roger, an open, casual confidence which provides an equally open comfort to Bobby as they face reality together.
Co-Artistic Director James Reynolds has a way with intimate portraiture, and what could easily have been a very static tale moves well about the FTC’s tiny stage. Indeed, it’s hard to think of it as tiny while looking at Marie Miller’s architecturally fascinating set, which gives an impression of class, interest and space to Lee and Bobby’s house in a way which can only be termed expansive.
“Holding On – Letting Go” is not wildly revelatory, when it comes to examining how families handle impending death. Still, its characters have been developed well enough for one to feel a strong sense of empathy with their struggles. One leaves moved, careful, but uplifted, and the entire thing becomes an affirmation of hospice care and those health professionals who deal full-time with the one thing American society determinedly keeps hid: our mortality. As such, it leaves one much to mull over.
This production marks the beginning of the 15th anniversary season of Fremont Centre Theatre.
What: “Holding On – Letting Go” When: Through May 27, 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 3 p.m. Sundays Where: Fremont Centre Theatre, 1000 Fremont Ave. in South Pasadena How Much: $25 general, $20 students/seniors Info: (866) 811-4111 or www.fremontcentretheatre.com
The Last Night of the World, Indeed: Why “Miss Saigon” is a miss
Jacqueline Nguyen, as Kim, and the rest of those Saigon citizens abandoned by evacuating US embassy personnel, evoke their betrayal in "Miss Saigon."
The musicals which have remained in the public imagination have certain things in common: memorable music and lyrics wedded to a compelling, or compellingly romantic storyline, combined with visual images either in dance or color or spectacle, which provide the kind of enhancement only theater can access. All the great ones have this, from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s cheerful and challenging “South Pacific” to the rich, angsty, articulate “Les Miserables.”
Yet even those who create the classics occasionally fail to meet their own standard, regardless of spectacle or setting. After “Fiddler on the Roof” and it’s instantly, consistently hummable tunes and empathetic story, Sheldon Harnick and Jerry Bock delivered “The Rothschilds,” which is remembered almost entirely for one rendition of one song. Everyone knows Meredith Wilson’s “The Music Man.” Has anyone heard of “1492,” his ode to Christopher Columbus? Thought not.
So too, Claude-Michel Schonberg and Alain Boublil, whose aforementioned “Les Miserables” has proven to be the energizer bunny of the musical theater. Then came “Miss Saigon,” the supposed new version of “Madam Butterfly”. Remembered mostly for putting a helicopter on stage, it offers up one memorable love song, one memorable character, and an otherwise unimpressive musical score.
When it comes to “Miss Saigon,” time has not made the heart grow fonder. At La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts, the McCoy Rigby Entertainment series has brought this lumbering monolith back to the stage. Twenty-one years since the show first came to Broadway, one still admires the show’s technical achievements far above the music, the melodramatic storyline, or most of the characters.
The tale concerns a GI attached to the US embassy in Saigon at the moment the US pulled out. Chris picks that moment to fall in love with a newly christened call girl, Kim – a girl he ends up unable to bring along in the embassy evacuation. She is left with the communist invasion, her erstwhile pimp, and gives birth to Chris’ son. Chris recovers from the angst of abandoning Kim by marrying the very American Ellen, even as his army buddy, John, works to help the many mixed race children Americans left behind.
Jacqueline Nguyen makes an earnest and attractive Kim, hampered by her two-dimensionally tragic part more than anything else. Kevin Odekirk makes Chris almost painfully naive – a judgement underscored by the balanced and far more interesting portrait painted by Lawrence Cummings as John, the once happy-go-lucky GI turned activist. Cassandra Murphy is called upon mostly to be loving and provincial as Chris’ wife, and she does that as required. Aidan Park is rather spectacularly wooden as Kim’s former betrothed, who finds prestige in the new socialist order.
And then there is the only major reason – well, other than the helicopter and the huge statue of Ho Chi Minh – to see this production. Joseph Anthony Foronda, as the pimp turned opportunist who calls himself The Engineer, all but commandeers the show. He is funny. He is wry. He is devilishly self-promoting, self-centered, and eternally centered on a way to con his way into prosperity. His energy fills the stage, and his enthusiastically twisted views on everything from sex to American prosperity provide most of the vitality “Miss Saigon” possesses.
Still, this does not a fine musical make. With the exception of “Last Night of the World,” the music is unmemorable. The able ensemble does what they can to create atmosphere, to the point of being overly woven into scenes where they are anomalies. Indeed, between them director Brian Kite and choreographer Dana Solimando do what they can to bridge the changes in this extremely episodic tale, but it’s still a choppy one. Even Dustin J. Cardwell’s often minimalist settings, though they help the flow as much as possible, can’t keep one from feeling pulled along a bumpy road – a problem this production inherits from the script itself.
Let’s face it. For all its bells and whistles, “Miss Saigon” is really not that good a musical. When I first saw it, much closer to the time period in which its episodes take place, I was deeply moved by the pictures from a very poor, Vietnamese mixed-race orphanage. I had known the oldest of those orphans to be evacuated to the States. But now, all these years later, that girl is closing in on her 50s, and the flogging this musical gives this country for its abandonment has been faded by time and subsequent wars. Without that, it’s just forgettable. That is, except for Foronda, a helicopter, and a huge gold statue of a dead Communist.
What: “Miss Saigon” When: through May 6, 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays and Thursdays, 8 p.m. Fridays, 2 p.m. and 8 p.m. Saturdays, and 2 p.m. Sundays Where: McCoy Rigby Entertainment Series at the La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts, 14900 La Mirada Blvd. in La Mirada How Much: $35 – $50 Info: (562) 944-9801 or (714) 994-6310 or www.lamiradatheatre.com
