Reviews for theater within the greater Los Angeles area.
August 17, 2018Posted by on
In the play, now revived with considerable skill at the Beverly Hills Playhouse, Hwang uses humor and a certain amount of poetic license, to tell the story of the frustrations Asian performers have wrestled with over the comparatively regular casting of non-Asians in Asian parts.
From the era of Charlie Chan, played by white actors from Warner Oland to Peter Ustinov, to the upheaval in Actors Equity in the 90s over the use of a white British actor as the central character – a Vietnamese – in “Miss Saigon,” Hwang points to the inequity of giving Asian roles to white performers. This even as he underscores how easy it is to convince those who want to be convinced that the false Asian is, indeed, real.
The production, itself a revival of a coproduction with Firescape Theatre in San Francisco, is even more bare-bones than the original, with all the actors seated in a row on the stage, most then becoming several different people over the course of the play. Essentially, the show posits what would happen if a playwright of Hwang’s prominence misled the public, for a lot of internal reasons, into thinking a purely white actor is of Asian descent, and then that actor runs with the idea far enough to begin becoming an Asian entertainment icon.
This tale is then juxtaposed against Hwang’s very real wrestling with his banker father’s misconceptions about western business practices – ones which lead to the father’s downfall as his Far East National Bank becomes embroiled in investigations into possible Chinese influence-peddling.
Still, the power in this play comes from its humor as well as its poke at social responsibility, and the quality of the performers who make the whole thing come to life. Jeffrey Sim is Hwang himself, both the narrator and protagonist of the piece. Sim’s tight comic timing, and his casual humanity keeps the play both serious and very funny, sometimes at the same moment. Roman Moretti, as the actor who discovers his calling in being someone he is not, is just handsome enough, with just vague enough ethnic markers to make his role work – a role he handles in a straightforward, even earnest way which keeps it from being innately insulting.
Alfonso Faustino creates Hwang’s banker father, and a host of other entertainment and cultural figures, Jennifer Vo Le creates all of the play’s Asian women, from Hwang’s mother to his false creation’s girlfriend. Lisagaye Tomlinson handles a startlingly varied collection of other characters, making each impressively individual, while Dennis Nollette does the same as a broad spectrum of producers and politicos, some of them quite recognizable. John Pendergast, in the smaller but profoundly essential role of an actual, though elaborately unnamed New York Times reporter, carries his character’s nonjudgementalism with a somewhat sinister air.
All of these actors and characters intertwine in an elaborate choreography at the hands of director Robert Zimmerman. The minimalist staging works splendidly, and the finesse with which the cast handles the fast-paced, sometimes overlapping storytelling keeps the audience engaged, even occasionally on the edge of their collective seats, throughout.
“Yellow Face” remains profound, even as it also remains very humorous. It’s theme underscores one of the last seemingly acceptable cultural appropriations (remember the controversy over Scarlett Johansson’s voicing of a character in The Ghost in the Shell series), and – albeit with humor – claims identity as an important aspect of the 21st century entertainment sphere.
What: “Yellow Face” When: through September 26, 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays. Where: Beverly Hills Playhouse, 254 S. Robertson Blvd. in Beverly Hills How Much: $20 – $30. Info: http://www.plays411.com/yellowface
August 16, 2018Posted by on
The entire idea of taking the Disney film (or the Hans Christian Andersen original story) of “The Little Mermaid” and putting it on the stage creates a challenge. Disney did it themselves, taking the show to Broadway where it ran for over 2 years. Transferring that to a smaller, more intimate setting brings new problems to solve, quite aside from finding singer-performers who are up to the characters most audience members are already very familiar with.
At Candlelight Pavilion Dinner Theater in Claremont, it is made to look easy for the most part. The use of “heelies” to give underwater characters a fluid movement works as it did in the original (as opposed to the odd flapping required of some recent revivals), the voices are strong and the energy high. Director John Lalonde knows how to use the small Candlelight stage to the fullest, and has assembled a cast both convincing and entertainingly quirky.
The Disney version of the story is well known. Ariel, the youngest daughter of Triton, king of the ocean depths, has become fascinated with the world which exists outside their watery universe. This only intensifies as her father destroys her collection of “otherworldly” things, and she ends up rescuing a young Prince Eric, thrown off of his ship in a storm.
Ariel trades her voice to her evil witch of an aunt, Ursula, for a pair of legs so she can go after Eric, with the understanding that she must be kissed by the prince within a short time frame to avoid Ursula owning her, body and soul. Ariel’s friends Sebastian the crab, Scuttle the seagull, and Flounder the fish do what they can to help, as Ursula’s own sidekicks plot the opposite.
Erin Dubreuil makes a sweet and innocent Ariel, singing beautifully and absolutely bursting with earnest naivete. Tyler Matthew Burk, as Prince Eric, gives him the right combination of frustration and wistful yearning for simplicity necessary for the piece to work. Donovan Wright brings a touching warmth to Triton.
But, of course, it is the character parts which get to have the most fun. Bob Bell grumps appropriately as Eric’s frustrated tutor. Ryan Watson manages to make Flounder sound, if not look, as childlike as needed, and Alex Allen flaps about with abandon as Scuttle. In a choice which works extremely well, Cody Bianchi makes a truly villainous Ursula, aided by the puppeteers Nicholas Alexander and Anthony Vaca, playing her evil eel henchmen.
In the small but vital part of Chef Louis, cooking up seafood for Eric’s dinner, Andrew Metzger displays his comic chops. Still, the real star of the piece is, as always happens, Sebastian, here given great character by Desmond Clark. Even as adapted for Broadway, he has the two best songs in the show, “Under the Sea” and “Kiss the Girl.” Clark and a truly fine ensemble do a fine job with both.
Kudos to choreographer Chelsea Morgan Stock for movement and dance which define the spaces in which the characters operate. Praise also to Julie Lamoureaux, who as musical director is tasked with creating, in even the show’s more complex pieces, a sound reminiscent of the film, yet doing so for an ensemble who will perform the songs without benefit of a conductor. It all works.
One must remember that this “Little Mermaid” simplifies some of the darker moments of even the film version, and definitely of the original short story. Expect tunefulness, a certain amount of froth, and a lot of charm which is suitable for the entire family. All this, and a good meal as well, at what is now the only remaining dinner theater in the greater Los Angeles area.
What: “The Little Mermaid” When: through September 1, doors open for dinner 6 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 5 p.m. Sundays, and 11 a.m. for lunch Saturdays and Sundays. Where: The Candlelight Pavilion Dinner Theater, 455 W. Foothill Blvd. in Claremont. How Much: $63-$78 adults, $30-$35 children 12 and under Info: (909) 626-1254, ext. 1 or http://www.candlelightpavilion.com
July 27, 2018Posted by on
The classic screwball comedy films of the 1930s and 40s have remained popular from that time on because of four basic elements: the ridiculousness of the essential storyline, the crisp and evocative dialogue, the quality of and apt casting of the performers, and timing – always the fast-paced, pinpoint timing of the lines and scenes which makes the whole thing memorably funny. This is what playwright Norm Foster wants to celebrate in his play “Screwball Comedy,” now receiving its U.S. premiere at Theatre Forty in Beverly Hills.
Although Foster himself has created a play which honors all the above, with dialogue only slightly more ridiculous than the real thing, and just as deliciously improbable a plot, the current production does little with the rest. With a few exceptions the casting (or at very least character interpretation) is problematic, and the direction by Howard Storm profoundly uneven.
The play follows all the classic tropes. A rough-around-the-edges newspaper editor sends his star reporter (whose ego and nightlife have begun to erode his gifts) and an earnest young woman trying to get hired off to cover the society wedding of the son of the paper’s wealthy-widow owner. What they find is conniving on all fronts, which in turn leads to a certain amount of romantic sparks between the two.
The highlights of performance in this piece come mostly from the performers who seem to have grasped the timing aspect, even if those around them don’t always. Gail Johnston, as Jones, the editor’s secretary, is keen and consistently funny in ways one hopes the rest of the show will emulate. As the wealthy widow, Sharron Shayne has a flamboyance which works well, and an energy which powers points in the production which would otherwise wobble. As the son, hiding his gifts to keep his mother happy, Niko Boles charmingly underplays his part, making it stand out in lovely ways.
Although Lane Compton, as the egotistical ace reporter, has conquered the style of that specific kind of comedy part, he often plays against people whose timing is so slow it remains somewhat difficult to assess his gifts in that regard. As his supposed foil, the prospective cub reporter, Kate Whitney lacks that immediacy of delivery so necessary in this kind of script, where lines need to jump on top of each other to create the humor. As the gold digger trying to marry money, Jean Mackie also supplies little to play off of, as her way to embrace her character’s constant state of inebriation is to slow things down.
Daniel Leslie, as the editor, seems to struggle with his lines, though his characterization proves fitting. George Villas, as the man trying to marry the widow, is so off from the feel of the play he isn’t even giving his lines at the same volume as the rest, booming them out with overelaborate zest. David Hunt Stafford, as the grumpy, bumbling butler, is indeed funny, but funny like a recurring burlesque joke, and thus out of keeping with the rest of the tale.
Much of this lands at the feet of director Storm. Indeed, even among those doing a good job, they are flying solo – there is no sense of directorial coordination of the humor. On the other hand, the set by Jeff G. Rack uses the stage space remarkably well. The costuming by Michele Young misses at important moments, especially in over-dowdying Whitney’s character, though it generally seems to be roughly in that early 40s period. Brandon Baruch does a fine job with the lighting, absolutely necessary when you place different rooms on different parts of the set.
In short, there is nothing horribly wrong with “Screwball Comedy,” except that it doesn’t seem to have any feel of ensemble, and ensemble is what made the great screwball comedies work. It is sometimes quite funny, but not anywhere near as funny as it could easily have been.
What: “Screwball Comedy” When: Through August 19, 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays Where: The Reuben Cordova Theatre on the campus of Beverly Hills High School, 241 S. Moreno Drive in Beverly Hills How Much: $35. Info: (310) 364-0535 or www.theatre40.org
July 18, 2018Posted by on
There is nothing quite so visceral, quite so individualistic in response, or quite so romanticized as becoming a new mother. These days the pressures of income and expectation, and the internal (or sometimes external) battle for a woman between motherhood and career can play out in a vast variety of ways, and can often be difficult to express convincingly to anyone who has not gone through them. Which is what makes Molly Smith Metzler’s “Cry It Out,” from The Echo Theater Company at Atwater Village Theatre important to see.
In the play, which makes its west coast premiere with this production, one woman’s home space becomes the crossroad for three women and one man dealing with the daily struggles and priority changes inherent in both the process of having and bringing home a first child.
Jessie Gelb, a young lawyer on leave, invites her neighbor Lina for coffee in her back yard, desperate to talk to another new mother in a commuter suburb of New York. Lina, from south shore Long Island, is everything Jessie is not – rough around the edges, plain talking, and dependent upon the largess of the alcoholic mother-in-law with whom she lives.
As they bond over the joys and struggles of the first few months of motherhood – baby monitors in hand – their peaceful retreat is invaded by a seemingly desperate, wealthy stranger. He has been watching their meetings from his pricey cliffside home, and envies the bond they have formed. This, in turn, leads to a brief encounter with his wife, a woman whose experience of new motherhood is on a different spectrum from Jessie’s and Lina’s.
Jackie Chung is Jessie, making her a neat balance of anxious vulnerability and growing confidence. Chung’s nuanced emotional palate sets a tone of realism which makes the play connect so internally with those who watch. Megan Ketch’s Lina brings a passion and brassy humor set again in the real, underscoring the two characters’ bond – one they would probably not have in circumstances other than new motherhood – by never giving in to easy attitudes.
Brian Henderson’s briefer appearance as the somewhat panicked Mitchell, offers a compelling look at what happens when idealized hopes and less than ideal realities collide. There is a wistfulness in his portrayal of his character’s lack of observational acuity, which underscores his role as outsider. Emily Swallow’s powerful, disquieting Adrienne – Mitchell’s wife – will spur discussions of class, character, and priority, even in in one’s own head, and brings a needed sharpness to what could otherwise become a more predictable play.
Director Lindsay Allbaugh truly understands these people, and makes this dialogue-heavy piece fill with movement and moments of visual intensity which give it power. Francois-Pierre Couture’s seemingly simple set design, combined with Rose Malone’s subtle lighting changes, give a sense of season and openness which flesh in, and humanize, the tale.
“Cry It Out” – a title superficially referencing the debate about whether to leave babies to cry themselves to sleep – is a play of priorities and impressions, of empathy and disconnect. These characters face the choices many new parents face in the modern world, few of which are easy. Funny, wrenching, and achingly recognizable as truth, the play will definitely leave an impression, and one worth mulling over.
What: “Cry It Out” When: through August 19, 8 p.m. Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Mondays, 4 p.m. Sundays. Where: The Echo Theater Company at Atwater Village Theatre, 3269 Casitas Ave. in Los Angeles. How Much: $34 except Mondays, which are Pay-What-You-Want. Info: (310) 307-3753 or www.EchoTheaterCompany.com
July 14, 2018Posted by on
Enter the Independent Shakespeare Company, and their Griffith Park Free Shakespeare Festival. There a young, diverse and enthusiastic company brings this silly, wonderful play to life in a particularly accessible way. The vision is large, the al fresco setting clever, and though the performances are a bit variable, the net result ranges from pleasant to endearing.
The convoluted tale begins as Thesius, Duke of Athens prepares to marry Hippolyta, the Queen of the Amazons.
As preparation for these festivities continue, Hermia’s father applies to the Duke to force her to marry the man he has chosen – Demetrius – instead of Lysander, the man she loves. Hermia’s dear friend Helena was Demetrius’ fiancé until this new arrangement was proposed, and still loves him. Meanwhile, Titania, Queen of the Fairies and Oberan, their king, are having a row over a changeling child she has and he wants. Add to this a group of rough working men who gather to try to put on a play to entertain Thesius and Hippolyta at their nuptials.
All these folk at one point or another end up in the same forest outside Athens, and their often ridiculous stories soon intertwine. This is the meat of the play. Indeed, perhaps the hardest to make interesting is the connection between Theseus (Evan Lewis Smith and Hippolyta (Aisha Kabia), who do not galavant in the forest, but here the tensions between the two become interesting from the outset, setting a tone for the entire production.When the two performers transition into playing the royalty of Fairyland, it just gets better and better.
Kelvin Morales gives Oberon’s mischievous helper Puck a edgy, wicked streak which works well. Katie Powers Faulk makes Hermia more empowered than sometimes, while Jose Acain’s Demetrius has the stolid feel of the overly entitled. Xavi Moreno emotes like mad as Lysander, though one wishes he didn’t sound whiney all the time, and Julia Aks handles the discarded Helena’s various moments of angst with understanding, but – as several of the players do – sometimes gets caught up in the rhythm of the Shakespearean poetry so much that it interferes some with its conversational intent.
Indeed, this is the biggest issue with this production: delivery of lines is uneven. The trick of playing Shakespeare in the modern age is to speak the Bard’s poetry as if it was normal speech and not iambic pentameter. Some of the cast do this very well, while others get caught in a sing-song way of speaking which distracts one from the story or the comedy at hand.
Still, as a whole it works. The “rustics” are particularly effective, and comparatively original. William Elsman gives Peter Quince, the play-within-a-play’s supposed director, an earnest ineffectiveness which works well. In an interesting twist Bukola Ogunmola creates a female Flute, the bellows mender – allowing a woman to play a woman (Thisbe) in the final play. Her portrait may remove one comic element of the original, but is a wonder of detachment which plays well to the comedy.
Daniel Jimenez and Patrick Batiste make the two lesser players among the rustics, Starveling and Snout, original and engaging, and Richard Azurdia’s shy Snug becomes a unique and truly silly lion, all but stealing some of the play performance scenes. David Melville’s turn as Nick Bottom, transformed by Puck as a joke, forever unflappable and self absorbed, proves funny. Though some of the best ridiculous lines get a bit stepped on, his “death scene” meets all expectations.
Director/ISC Artistic Director Melissa Chalsma knows how to use the specific performance space – site of the old Griffith Park Zoo – to great effect, moving her performers in and around the blankets and beach chairs of the audience, and interacting with them in specific and effective ways. The occasional injection of modernisms into the standard script enhances rather than distracting from the play itself.
The minimalist set of Caitlin Lainoff provides all variations of entrance and exit spaces, and keeps the action close to those watching in ways which aid the interaction. Ruoxuan Li’s costumes combine fantasy, contemporary and period in interesting ways, though that donkey head needs a greater anchor – one becomes anxious for fear it will fall off.
Yet, taken as a whole, this “Midsummer” is charming, airy, and a great way to spend an evening. This is the start of ISC’s 15th season, and the first of two productions in Griffith Park. Bring your blanket, or your low folding chair, and come join the fun. You will leave with a smile. This production plays in repertory with Shakespeare’s “Titus Andronicus”.
What: “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” When: through September 2, 7 p.m. every Wednesday to Sunday through July 22, August 5, 8, 12, 16, 18, 22, 26 and 31, September 2 Where: The Old Zoo in Los Angeles’ Griffith Park. How Much: Free. Info: (818) 710-6306 or www.iscla.org
July 14, 2018Posted by on
Back in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the definition of what made something a Broadway-style musical was in flux. In this period a number of shows appeared which were essentially concerts sung by created characters, from those which were actually more of tribute concerts featuring the songs of a historic musical artist or group, to those which used original material and characters. Among these the most commonly done include “Always… Patsy Cline,” “Forever Plaid” and “The Marvelous Wondrettes”. One of the toughest to produce, as the performers double as the band, is “Pump Boys and Dinettes”.
Now at Sierra Madre Playhouse, “Pump Boys…” features original country songs (including one which reached the country music charts), and a minimalist plot about five buddies working in a roadside a garage and the two Cupp sisters running the Double Cupp Diner next door, on Highway 57 between Georgia and North Carolina. The guys play and are joined in singing by the ladies, who also produce pies, and serve a few guests on their side of the stage.
Frothy, tuneful and played by a cast truly enjoying themselves, “Pump Boys…” becomes a brief vacation from reality. Its cast sings with authority for the most part, and the guys prove to be excellent musicians. Indeed, their musicianship is the necessary element in making the show successful.
Sean Paxton, Michael Butler Murray, Kevin Tiernan and Jimmy Villaflor plus a quiet Jim Miller on drums, not only sing a lot of the songs but provide the entire band. Cori Cable Kidder, known to SMP audiences from her 2015 appearance as Patsy Cline, and Emily Kay Townsend provide occasional percussion, but are mostly there to sing and provide a lot of the sense of character and plot. The musicianship in all cases proves good to very good. Indeed, the only real shaky moment is a brief piece of tap choreography by Kidder.
Director/choreographer Allison Bibicoff has done what can be done to take a musical without a plot and give it a sense of authenticity on the small SMP stage. In this she is aided by set designer Jeff G. Rack’s remarkably complex set, given the size of the SMP stage space. The cast has a strong sense of ensemble, and there are moments of real charm, including Villaflor and the women saluting the charms of having a farmer tan, and Paxton’s wistful rendition of “The Night Dolly Parton Was Almost Mine” – the song which made it to the charts.
Which is not to say the production is perfect. Some are better singers than actors, and some better actor/performers than singers. Still, the energy and general charm carries this piece through, and one is surprised that the show has ended, when it does. SAlaAo, if you are looking for a place to rest your brain and have an evening of tuneful fun, “Pump Boys and Dinettes” offers just that – yet another sign of the reputation SMP is building for itself.
What: “Pump Boys and Dinettes” When: Through July 29, 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2:30 p.m. Sundays, with added performances 2:30 p.m. Saturdays starting July 7. Where: Sierra Madre Playhouse, 87 W. Sierra Madre Blvd. in Sierra Madre How Much: $40-$45 general, $35-$40 seniors aged 65 and over, $25-$30 youth aged 22 and under Info: (626) 355-4318 or www.sierramadreplayhouse.org
June 25, 2018Posted by on
The neatest trick to accomplish, when writing an intimate play, is to find that spark which ties the issues and personalties of a few people to something inherently a part of everyone. That very concept centers Stephen Karam’s “The Humans,” the Tony-winning play just opened with the entire original Broadway cast at the Ahmanson Theatre. Every single person, and virtually every single issue, has some element with which we are familiar. The problems and conflicts the characters have with each other are not on their own earth-shattering, but they are (as the playwright himself has said) the things which keep us up at night.
How these issues emerge, how they intertwine, and how these people – who essentially love each other – deal with them is the play. It is funny. It is wrenching. It leaves one with some curiosity about elements outside the frame. It is gently remarkable theater.
The Blake family has gathered for Thanksgiving at the New York apartment younger daughter Brigid is just moving into with her boyfriend Richard. Parents Eric and Deirdre come somewhat hesitantly from Scranton, bringing with them Eric’s mother – commonly referred to as Momo – who is in the later stages of Alzheimers Disease. Joining them is Brigid’s older sister, Aimee, a Philadelphia lawyer wounded by the breakup of her marriage, and by illness.
The apartment is almost a character – with a ground floor portion on entry and a stair down to a basement kitchen and dining area, and some very strange upstairs neighbor whose actions create enormous booming interruptions to the family proceedings. Trash compactors roar outside the lower door. The light bulbs seem to have a life of their own. And the furniture, with a couple of exceptions, has yet to arrive. As the family readies for and eats dinner, wrestles with issues of expectation, religion, aging, traditions large and small, and the nature of love, the audience is drawn in to sit with them, and to understand what it is driving some members’ lack of sleep.
Reed Birney has a feel for Eric’s combination of taciturn, teasing but loving care, and internal wrestling with a faceless fear. As Deirdre Jayne Houdyshell embodies that mother who fusses, radiates a specific sense of humor, wants to fix everyone’s problems, and yet wrestles with secrets of her own. Sarah Steele embraces Brigid’s combination of family loyalty and resistance, making her both a determinedly individual person and one connecting the varied personalities together.
Nick Mills gives Richard the semi-attached attitude of the observer looking in on a unit he is now becoming a part of. His attempts at connection are treated with the earnestness necessary to keep him on an edge but not rejectable. It’s a subtly tricky performance. Perhaps most remarkable is the performance of Lauren Klein as Momo. Late stage Alzheimers is tough to watch in real life, and even tougher to recreate, yet she makes the mumblings and particularly the moments of rage absolutely believable.
There is a reason this play won an award while still off-Broadway for ensemble performance. It is absolutely seamless, with characters as comfortable with each other as families are. Director Joe Mantello choreographs the thing as much as directs it, using David Zinn’s two-tiered set with real finesse. The sense of family, of separation and togetherness, of tension and softening, ebb and flow as such a gathering does. A nod also to Fitz Patton’s sound design, creating as it does the character of an upstairs neighbor we essentially never even see, but whose presence proves startlingly intrusive at oddly apt moments.
“The Humans” is fine, fine theater. It speaks to all the mistakes people who love each other make, all the expectations we have of each other and of ourselves, and yet does so by being small, intimate, and very character driven. This is not splashy fun, but it Is often very funny. This is not about the world’s problems, but it echoes a humanity full of flaws even if full of potential good. Its very familiarity is its strength, and will rest with you long after the play, which is performed without intermission, is done.
What: “The Humans” When: Through July 29, 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, 135 N. Grand Ave. in the Music Center, downtown Los Angeles. How Much: $30 – $130. Info: (213) 972-4400 or www.centertheatregroup.org
June 25, 2018Posted by on
It is a large order: give an empathetic sense of what life is like for artistic persons of color trying to get ahead. Inject humor, avoid or explode stereotype, and evince hope using forms interconnected with the comparatively youthful generation beginning to feel empowered to make or coordinate change. The good news: by and large Nathan Ramos’ “As We Babble On,” receiving its world premiere at East West Players, in association with the Los Angeles LGBT Center, does quite a lot of what was ordered.
Essentially, we watch the birth and content of the graphic novel Benji, a Korean-American cartoonist and gay man, begins to construct when passed over for a promotion at a huge NYC comics enterprise. Benji, like virtually all of the people in the play, is actually bi-racial – a fact which further complicates the ways the world sees him and them, and how they all define themselves. Into all these intertwining conflicts, the story develops.
As he attempts to branch out and do his own work, Benji bumps into a former lover, wrestles with his relationship with the young African-American video blogger who is his roommate, and must deal with his automatic reaction to his budding journalist sister potentially, and stereotypically, connecting with a wealthy young man who can open doors. What he does with all of this, defined in terms of who is or should be a super hero – and what his own role in such a tale would be – proves consistently entertaining, rather heated, and fairly illuminating.
Will Choi is Benji. In trying to make his character the unassertive person he is, Choi resorts to a kind of full-body whining which proves mostly annoying, but when he pulls out of that space and into the creative and intellectual processing part of his character, he is as witty as his material, and as effective. As his wildly assertive roommate, Jiavani Linayao proves a highly entertaining bundle of energy, radiating her character’s resilience, and assurance of her own power to persuade, to tilttilate, and to marshal her online forces even as many of them see her as a fetishist’s dream.
Sachin Bhatt in every element of his carriage as Benji’s former boyfriend, embodies the paradox of the person whose professional success has come at the cost of being the token, or the nervous-making “other,” in almost all of his social settings. On the other hand, Jaime Schwartz, as Benji’s more caucasian-appearing sister, deals with issues of youth and femininity as barriers in an online journalistic world where her roll has been assigned to fluff pieces rather than the in-depth hard journalism she knows she is capable of. Enter Bobby Foley, shining with an upper class confidence as a tycoon’s son famed for excess, who may or may not be intent on either using Benji’s sister or caring for and assisting her.
Some of the best of this production comes from Tasshi Nakagawa’s layered set, which provides spaces for the many online commentaries from the roommate’s fans or Benji’s mom, thus providing the many other characters which semi-populate the storyline and the stage. Director Alison M. De La Cruz doesn’t shy away from the more intense, more sexual, or even on occasion more crass elements of the play, giving it a starkness at important moments which can be either humorous or disturbing. Special shout-out to Sheiva Khalily, whose projections not only include the online commentaries of the unseen characters, but the cartoon-hero versions of the play’s central figures as Benji increasingly sees and draws them, and the comic book “titles” for specific moments in Benji’s journey.
The play apparently began as a two-act piece and has been edited into a single, long act with no intermission. This is effective in some ways, in that the story continues to build toward Benji’s own self revelations, and those of his friends, in a single arc. It is made into a long sit, however, as you can tell by the warning explanations to everyone prior to curtain that there will be no bathroom break.
“As We Babble On” is not a great play, but it offers up insights worth taking note of, and offers a nod to the way of the arts in a world lived increasingly online. It has entertaining characters, but – if this matters to you – also contains a certain amount of fairly overt sexuality of varying types. This is not a play for kids. Go catch it quick if you are interested, though, as it enters its final weekend.
What: “As We Babble On” When: through June 24, 8 p.m. Thursday, Friday and Saturday, 2 p.m. Sunday Where: East West Players, David Henry Hwang Theater, 120 Judge John Also St. in Los Angeles. How Much: $40 – $50 Info: (213) 625-7000 or http://www.eastwestplayers.org
June 21, 2018Posted by on
The topic of immigration is on everyone’s front burner these days, for often very sad reasons. For many, the interest, or the threat, of immigration comes from the effects any group of immigrants at any time have had on what one considers the dominant American culture. It has always been this way, sadly, whether it is disquiet over the Irish, the Chinese, the Eastern European Jews, the Italians or Polish, the Cubans, or the Vietnamese boat people, to name just a few.
Still, there is another aspect to being (as we are, whether we admit it or not) a nation of immigrants: the difference between those who have by practice or generation, regardless of how much they honor their original culture, become Americanized, and those who carry the original culture because it is still theirs. It is this which is explored in Mfoniso Udofia’s “Her Portmanteau,” now receiving its west coast premiere at Boston Court Pasadena. Here three steps on that assimilation scale look at what is shared, and what separates a “foreigner” from a part of our American ethnocultural tossed salad.
Iniabasi Ekpeyong has just arrived from Nigeria. Though born in the US she has been raised by her late father back on the family compound. Now she is in New York to meet the mother and half sister she hasn’t laid eyes on since childhood. Her mother Abasiama Ufot, and her half-sister Adiaha Ufot are unfamiliar in more ways than one might expect, as language and culture and a disorienting distance between expectation and reality create barriers and end-run openings for the three women.
This work is part of Udofia’s 9-part cycle of plays documenting the Ufot family, but stands well on its own. In it, the entire idea of the US as a paradise is placed up against the friction between traditional family roles and hierarchies, traditional modes of hospitality, even traditional and adapted foods, and how such things can hamper even well-intentioned attempts at understanding. What one runs from and what one runs toward become the ways in which these people balance the bonds of blood and the differences of experience, like a portmanteau, an old fashioned style of suitcase built with two distinct sides one fills separately and then brings together to fasten. Only then do they touch.
Dele Ogundiran is Iniabasi, expecting reunion traditions unfamiliar here, and anxious in many directions at the end of an interminable flight. Watching her severity and fear gradually unbend gives weight and humanity to the awkwardness of difference where one expects to find sameness. Omoze Idehenre, as the American-raised daughter Adiaha, brings to the obligatory balance of inherited traditions and American-centered cultural frameworks a sense of exasperation and kindness which lay the groundwork the play develops. Joyce Guy gives the mother of the two other women, Abasiama, a palpable aura of apology, for distance and for difference, gradually laying out her own burdens, and gradually absorbing those her daughters face.
Director Gregg T. Daniel gives this word-rich play a sense of activity and interwoven characters which keeps it from devolving into a kind of panel discussion. This is particularly important as significant sections of the piece are at least partially in Ibibio, one of Nigeria’s traditional languages which is spoken here laced with occasional English words and phrases. That Iniabasi speaks it as first language, her mother Abasiama can return to it willingly, but – though she understands it well enough – Adiaha chooses to only use English is shorthand for the transitions which are at the core of the play. Daniel makes this work.
A note of praise also for Tesshi Nakagawa’s set design for the cramped Inwood apartment in NYC, for Jeff Gardner’s subtle but essential sound design, and for Erin Walley’s props, so evocative of the cultural interplay so necessary in telling this tale.
Yes, unless you speak Ibibio, you will not understand every word. That is, one assumes, a point – a rich conversation and interaction which is in itself isolating here, though communal somewhere else. Take that in, as part of “Her Portmanteau”: part of what these characters carry with them as they bump into being American.
What: “Her Portmanteau” When: through June 30, 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays. Where: Boston Court Pasadena, 70 N. Mentor Ave. in Pasadena How Much: $20-$39 Info: (626) 683-6801 or www.BostonCourtPasadena.org