Stage Struck Review

Reviews for theater within the greater Los Angeles area.

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Musings: Theater and the Observant Outsider: the importance of feedback in the production process

One of the more memorable moments from my college years has to be the day I happened upon Mel Brooks in the lobby of the then-brand new Hyatt Regency in San Francisco’s Embarcadero District, filming a sequence from “High Anxiety.” He was starring in it, of course, as he often was in his movie-making days, but after each shot he would dash over to a video screen to watch what had just gone on.

Had he done what he wanted to do? Was everyone in the right place? Was it as funny as he had hoped? Nope. Discussion with the actors. Discussion with the cameraman (the video camera shadowing what the film camera was doing). Back for another take of the same scene, with a few adjustments both to himself and the others involved, to make it better.

On and on it went, until finally he called it a wrap and they began packing up to move to a new location.

This is the elemental advantage of film, for a man like Brooks. He can be in his creation and direct his creation and have eyes in both places, as the camera becomes his surrogate. Behind the scenes, he will take the rushes from his filming and fiddle with them, pass them by producers and editors who will offer advice and expertise, and the end result will be something that is very much his, but also well vetted.

The same is not possible on the stage, really. The very immediacy which makes stage performance so emotionally satisfying means that a director cannot be in two places at the same time. If you are on stage performing with others, you cannot watch yourself in the moment. If you are off stage, in director mode, you are not allowing those you perform with to do what they need to do in relation to your character.

This is, if anything, more intense when one is performing solo, as the entire piece is just the performer, obviously unable to stand out front or in the wings to watch him or herself. Even the great solo performances – Hal Holbrook as Mark Twain, Eileen Atkins as Virginia Woolf, or Robert Morse as Truman Capote, for example – most definitely had someone else direct. Having more eyes involved with the creation of the final product allows the actor to practice his or her craft with that vital second opinion – a different eye – to avoid the traps of ego or of simply being too close to the material.

Interestingly the same can often be said of the relationship between writing and directing. Particularly in smaller theaters, it is not uncommon to see a director who is working with his or her own material. In theory this can be a good thing, but the concept often has fatal flaws.

(I cannot help but remember the professor in a class on readers theater who made us all buy his poetry chapbook “because when you read those poems I can tell you exactly what the author meant”. This created issues because many of those poems became subjects of ridicule among us, meaning we simply wouldn’t want to read them aloud – as we actually understood them – to the man who was giving us a grade. We were not allowed to edit, and trust me, they needed work even this college junior could see.)

So let’s face it: in reality (and I do not discount this in myself) any author has a strong tendency to fall in love with the work he or she has written to the point where it is tough to see the flies in the ointment. Editing is tough without feedback. Feedback rarely comes most efficiently from oneself, particularly in the admittedly ego-driven world of performance. The American greats from Arthur Miller on down did not direct their own iconic dramas. Neither did the likes of Neil Simon, whose comedic view of the mid-20th century is startlingly timeless.

Sometimes this is an obvious choice, as many writers are more cerebral than physical in their view of what their play is trying to say. In other words, a person proficient with words isn’t necessarily proficient with the physical interplay of bodies in a stage space. The added plus of an outside director, beyond a more visual artistic understanding, can be the work of an editor. What looks good on paper doesn’t always translate to what captures an audience from the stage, and the director is there to illuminate that.

For over 50 years there was a small amateur theater company in Altadena, California which devoted itself to producing untried plays. Theatre Americana would advertise in college newspapers and literary journals, and would sort through the hundreds of scripts they received annually to find four plays which would each be “put on its feet” every year. Their structure underscored this need for a writer to be open to outside input.

Their contract with the authors insisted they be allowed to edit the work, and they often did. Those who would not agree were told that TA was not interested in their work. Even with edits it was often obvious that playwrights tend to write more than the stage can stand. (As my mother would have said, perhaps George Bernard Shaw could get away with plays which were really more “costumed panel discussions” but nobody else can.) But then that was what TA’s mission was all about. They always invited the authors to come and take a look at the results, and thus to take away some sense of where the play needed to be worked on next.

Sadly, in these days when getting people into a theater is tougher than ever, and getting them into a community theater is even harder, the last members of Theatre Americana found it difficult to pass their legacy on to a new generation. Just as this was dawning on them, the County saw fit to remove them from the building they had, in the first part of the 20th century, been instrumental in getting built in a local county park. Finally, the enterprise shut down, though still stating a wan hope of revival. I admit I miss their energy. It was an education to see their productions, not only for the playwrights, but for this then-much-younger theatrical critic.

All of which to say that I have seen several productions over the past year where the critical objective eye was missing in some way. The person who wrote was directing and pretty much running the show. The person directing was also the star. In each case, the loss of an independent critical eye meant that some amount of potential went unrealized. I cannot claim this is always, universally true. Still, that desire to save money or make something totally one’s personal vision, or whatever causes such foreshortening of the elemental staffing of a theatrical production should be approached with deep caution. In the theater, perhaps more than most other art forms, independent observation is key.

So… Where Have I Been?

It’s the start of June. It’s the start of the Hollywood Fringe Festival. It’s… well, there’s a lot of theater going on out there. So, why is nobody hearing from me? Because I’m not in Los Angeles at the moment.

As anyone who has read the “About Me” part of this blog-thing knows, I teach high school. Last week was finals week. Then Friday morning way, way, way too early, I got on a plane to Salt Lake City, Utah… not because I wanted to see the sites (though there are sites to see) but because I was meeting with over 700 other teachers and professors of US Government to score the nation’s Advance Placement American Government and Politics exams. This year there are 320,000 to be read.

I do this for a lot of reasons. First, I teach the course and the best way to know how to prepare my students is to see how students respond to the questions, how those essays are being evaluated (i.e.: what the rubric looks like), and what nuances are implied in the process of scoring which will let me read between the lines of what the people who write this stuff are really emphasizing.

I also came this year because the curriculum is changing, as is the test, in a year or so and I want to know lots of details about that.

And, of course, they are paying me. Not the only reason to come, but it helps.

I do not get to choose when this happens, and it just so happens that this time it completely coincides with the start of the great wave of show openings which become the Fringe every year. And the opening weekend of Whittier Community Theatre’s last show of the season. And a lot of other fascinating things.

So, I’m sorry to have been silent. Look for me again closer to the end of June, when I will be back in action. And in the meantime, go look at the Hollywood Fringe website, find something which looks interesting, and go. You can tell me all about it.

Okay, so… I’m kinda back! Thanks for waiting.

I’ve been away, so let me catch you up. The last post I left here explained that I had gone in for a knee replacement (officially a “complete right knee arthroplasty” for those who embrace technical accuracy). And, that I did, on June 15.

I had no idea how long recovery would take, but got a reality check just before they wheeled me in, as the anesthesiologist explained “This is the most painful operation you can have, because of what they do to the bones, so don’t get behind on your pain medications afterward.” Truer words were never spoken. Now, seven weeks since the operation, I begin to feel like myself again, am off the prescription pain med, and – though a little shaky of balance, but improving – ready to resume something vaguely like a normal life.

I am seeing a couple of shows this coming weekend, and will post the reviews here as soon as is appropriate, given my contract with print media as well. Then, well, I may take some more time because my day job starts up again and I will have to measure my stamina to some extent. Anyway, every theater I usually cover is opening something in September, so you’ll be hearing a lot from me in the near future.

While in recuperation mode, I have been watching a lot of films made from plays. I have come up with some musings on the subject of when that works and when that doesn’t work… but I think I’ll save that for tomorrow. Suffice it to say that I’m really glad to be getting back to being creative, thanks in part to no longer being hindered by medication which – though necessary – left me really a bit fuzzy around the edges (I keep hearing my former husband, after receiving an opioid to enable a biopsy, saying “You mean people PAY to feel like this?!”).

With that fuzziness departed, I’m climbing, albeit slowly, back into the saddle. Thanks for hanging in there. Thank you also to those of you who sent sympathetic and/or encouraging messages. That was lovely. Now I can look forward to walking again without being distracted by constant knee pain. And that makes the rest of this summer worthwhile.

Apologies – a brief (I hope) break

Greetings. Just a word to let all those who read this blog know that I had knee replacement surgery on June 15. Because of this, and the recovery necessary to be able to sit comfortably in any chair, theatrical or otherwise (not to mention getting past the use of the walker which would make that even more complicated), I must take a short hiatus from theatrical reviewing.

I hope to be back in a few weeks, and will gladly make contact with all those companies/press reps who wish me to cover their productions as soon as I know I’ll be able to attend. In the meantime, enjoy your summer and may all your productions sparkle, or spark important thought, or both. Live theater is the true magic in the world.

Musings: A Mom’s Gotta Boast

MK and me - Version 2

Proud mom with the newly minted grad, showing off the top of her mortar board, with her last college cue call: Stand by, Graduation… Go!

I have two children. They are grown now – one is about to turn 29, and the other is 25. Both are married – actually got married about two months apart. Both, as children, were members of the Los Angeles Children’s Chorus, touring Europe, singing with the L.A. Philharmonic, the Pasadena Symphony and the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, and becoming child chorus members (even featured performers) and supernumeraries in productions of the Los Angeles Opera.

Being a part of LACC taught them a lot, and not just about music. They acquired a sense of professional discipline, a more global world view (when I asked my daughter about singing at the Vatican, all she wanted to discuss was what it was like to be in the streets of Rome the night Italy won the World Cup), and the virtues and rewards of hard work. They also learned to love the process of theater, and both were in school musicals in high school long after they’d left LACC behind. My son, as he grew older, began to focus more on computers, though he now helps run a company which provides services to the film and television industry.

My 25-year-old daughter, who ran the stage crew through the latter half of high school, has landed closer to her family’s theatrical roots. (Her dad and I met in the drama department of the University of the Pacific.) A bit more than a week ago, she graduated from San Francisco State University as a Technical Theatre major. She helped operate the scene shop, ran or helped run shows large and small (the most recent, tech directing a full-blown production of “Urinetown”) and is a techie to the core.

During this past year she has also been an intern at San Francisco’s Circus Center, where people learn how to perform circus acts. Just after graduation, she jumped into a gig as a house manager for a music festival. And on it goes. In this industry what she has accomplished is important. She’s, well, a she. She’s not quite 5’5″. She doesn’t tower over people and she’s not the strongest person in the shop, but she has proved over and over again, in a very male-dominated part of the theater business, that she knows what she’s doing and can get it done.

So, I’m a very proud mom. Congratulations, Mary Kate Nicholson-White. Who knows where she will land eventually, as her husband is an active-duty Sergeant in the US Marine Corps. But wherever she goes, she will be the woman in the room who can use all kinds of power tools, build a stable structure (even a multi-story one), understand how to run a production, and… well… do a whole lot of behind-the-scenes things. Yup. That’s my girl.

Musings: Bad Behavior, Theatrical Edition

Over the past couple of months there has been a significant discussion in theater circles about the concept of basic theatrical etiquette. By this I do not mean how performers and/or crew behave backstage, but rather, the increasingly boorish actions of some audience members. The general question appears to have two foci: whether or not some audience members have forgotten how to appreciate a live performance in a group setting, and how addicted people in the US have become to electronics.

And here comes the moment when I begin to sound like a curmudgeon, which I really am not. However, my observations over time have made the most recent events in New York seem recognizable (regrettable, but recognizable), particularly when I see echoes of the behavior here, closer to home.

To begin, the problem of inattention or distraction due to electronics is not new. I can remember, a good 25 years ago and more, being startled to see parents take their tween children to shows, only to allow them to listen to their headphones the entire time. I kept wondering what made that experience any better than leaving a kid with a babysitter? And that was before the onset of our most addictive convenience, the cell phone.

Cell phones have become an increasing annoyance for actors and audience members alike. I can remember several searing moments of theatrical drama which were interrupted by a loud electronic cha-cha, deep in someone’s purse. And you know how that one goes: first the quieter but annoying music, then the dive-and-dig by the phone’s owner, leading to the much louder musical interlude before the phone can finally be silenced. Best of all is the person who just denies the call, and thus must face that exercise all over again about ten minutes later when the person at the other end calls back.

But now many of us Americans see phones as our appendages – something which must be on, or even out, all the time. YouTube is full of union-violating cell phone footage of, say, Idina Menzel’s last night as Elphaba in “Wicked,” or someone or other’s stellar curtain speech, even though the program specifically states (and sometimes so does an announcer at show’s start) that the taking of photographs and videoing is strictly prohibited. And, of course, even if not recording the performances onstage, texting with its ensuing glow can distract actors and audience-members alike, particularly if something intense is supposed to be happening in the production itself but the audience is full of little, glowing screens… and audience members are looking at them instead of the stage.

Hence the reaction of most in the industry to Patti LuPone, who, on July 9 – having been annoyed by the glow of cell phones all through a matinee of “Shows for Days” – had finally had enough. That evening, a young woman in the front row spent the entire first portion of the play looking at her phone, and LuPone was done being nice. As she exited – as she usually did – through the audience, she reached over, pocketed the woman’s phone, and gave it to a stage manager so it could be returned at the end of the show.

The reaction was swift, and dual. When I mentioned this outside the theatrical community, there was outrage: “She had no right to do that,” was the common reaction. On the other hand, from those I know who are theater lovers, the reaction was congratulatory. Indeed, the overall impression was similar to that I felt when watching those kids with headphones: she (or someone else) paid a lot for that seat. Why did she come if she didn’t want to watch the show? And maybe, just maybe, those around her learned a lesson about how to be an audience. I tend to lean toward the latter, but I do understand that swiping someone’s possession, even temporarily, is fairly extreme.

But some audience members these days evoke the extreme. In that same week, also in New York, just before the start of an evening’s performance of “Hand to God,” an audience member climbed up on stage to plug his cell phone into the electrical plug on the show’s set. The plug was a fake (because… it was part of the SET), but the opening had to be delayed while a stage manager came out and cleared the phone. The general reaction to that was “What was that guy thinking?” Ironically, you can see this on YouTube too, because someone… wait for it… filmed it on his or her cell phone.

To simply finger-wag at the obsessive and tech savvy, however, would miss a larger point. We are growing into a people who simply do not know how to behave when in large groups. We see movies in our own homes, where we can talk to our partner, get up and walk around, even take the show we want to watch into a different room on our tablet. There is no longer, unless we’re willing to pay top price, even a chance for seeing films in the communality of a darkened theater. And when people do go to such places, top theaters such as the ArcLight chain have someone come in to gently remind people they are not at home and quiet is expected. Because you have to say that now.

Theaters are apparently the same way. That man who thought a piece of set was there for his personal convenience is symptomatic of the “I’m seeing it in my living room” philosophy. This lack of consideration for those around you has been experienced in a number of live productions – the drunks at the dinner theater I discussed a few weeks ago, the mother who chatted with her young daughter (who should have been learning how to behave in a live performance space) and handed her snacks from noisy bags all through a production of “Wicked” I attended a couple of years ago. These are symptomatic of a larger lack of empathy and/or respect for the communal wonder of live theatrical performance.

My mother, who taught middle school for a generation, used to say that for people in that age group (say, 12-14) the world is a movie put on for their benefit. When they walk out of a room, they intuitively believe that nothing happens until they walk back in. Teachers and such don’t have home lives, because that’s not how the students know them. Consequences come as a surprise, because all around them is – in their minds – really only going on in their heads.

The problem is, this attitude seems to now be spreading to adults, and live theater is most especially vulnerable, and thus having to deal with the results.

So, why am I writing about this just now? I’ve recently seen a few egregious bits of audience behavior which seem to underscore both the obliviousness and the electronics addiction of modern audience members, and I found it particularly annoying. The most recent came while attending a show at a small, but increasingly professional theater. I watched as a group of people in the front row, at one edge of the stage, proceeded to put their water bottles, and even a purse, on the stage itself, like it was a nearby shelf. Fortunately, their possessions were out of the area in which an actor would have to stand. On the other hand, their detritus was on full view to the rest of the audience. Besides, that was just extremely tacky.

Of course, audiences have been a trial at times since the days of Shakespeare and before. In those days they’d throw garbage at actors they didn’t like, and pour beer on each other. Then, and clear into the 19th century, audience members of the wealthier classes could actually sit on the stage, and interrupt as they felt was warranted. But it was assumed we had outgrown some of that foolishness – certainly the more we got into realism as an acting and production style.

Of course, the point could be made that even if they were throwing fruit, it was because they were engaged with the production, even if on an insult level. What bothers me the most about the obliviousness factor of today is that it means they are disengaged from the very thing they have come to watch. The patrons who have come to the theater with the intent to immerse themselves in the sights and sounds and insights on the stage lose out because of those who aren’t able to be fully present.

What can be done? As usual – and I admit I’m doing it – it’s easier to complain and highlight than to solve. Change will be a matter of group effort, I suppose. Perhaps the widespread publicity created by both Ms LuPone’s action and that idiot who thought a set was just another room created for his convenience will be a start. Perhaps these will spur people into thinking about how to appreciate what legitimate theater is: a communal experience of art and expression with a treasured immediacy no other medium can produce.

That would certainly be nice. In the meantime… wait. That was my cell phone. I think my editor has an assignment for me. BRB…

Musings: When meaning, in a work of art, is relative

The process of reviewing About… Productions’ original piece “Properties of Silence” became a specifically interesting bit of discernment when I began discussing the play with some of my high school seniors, who saw it a day or two before I did. As a part of their programmed educational outreach, people from About… had come to their English classroom to try to elicit from the students what they felt various elements of symbolism in the work (and there are many) meant. When I saw it, I developed my own sense of what its central message was. Then I heard two of the playwrights (one of the stars and the director) of the play discussing it on KUSC. All of us had different spins on what the play was trying to say.

So, one of the central questions becomes, is that okay? If an audience sees something different from the author’s intent, does that make the intent skewed, the audience dense, or does it simply mean it has a depth which can be uncovered in different ways? For the students – many of whom were very confused indeed – can we say all windows through which to see the piece are okay to open, even if they may lead down a path the authors did not intend?

I have encountered this discussion before, of course. Not only have I had people write to tell me my assessment of a play – not of the production but the play itself – is off base, meaning different from theirs, but I’ve been startled by interpretations of my original writings as well. In my life as a published poet I have heard and read people discussing my poems, finding a meaning in it I never meant myself. Still (when I back away from ownership) I can see these alternate views have a validity. In the end, I tend to find such an encounter fascinating.

Indeed, I keep hearing the line from a favorite classic film, “The Philadelphia Story”, when a struggling novelist discovers his novel on the shelf of a wealthy acquaintance and says, startled, “You are a man of unexpected depth!” There’s something both satisfying and scary in having your work disentangled by someone with a different sense of what it looks like.

I had a professor in college, Dr. Sy Kahn, who made everyone taking his reader’s theater course buy his poetry chapbook. His contention was that, when students read pieces from that book they would have someone who could advise them on what the poems actually meant. As someone raised around the words of Shakespeare, I found this deeply disturbing. When you consider all the ways in which any Shakespearean line can be read, and has been read and interpreted over the last 400 years or so, that would not be possible if everyone had instructions on what to think about what they were going to say from the Bard himself. Most certainly, that openness to interpretation is what keeps his work, Elizabethan as it is, fresh and alive.

So, this is my point. My students are looking for guidance – looking for someone to start them on the processing of an art form (particularly in this rather surreal play) they are not used to. If I give them one piece of the puzzle, and the creative team from the production gives them an alternate one, it may seem confusing but in essence it underscores the very root of art itself: that no two people will necessarily see or hear it the same way.

Which is why theater, or writing, is a living thing. Guidance can be useful, but it is not to be taken as handing down the great tablets – the single expected understanding – if a work is serious, poetic and aspiring to depth. Of course, the meanings in a French farce (for example) are far simpler, but true art can be absorbed many ways. That’s what makes it possible to attend many different productions of a classic and never see quite the same thing twice. Or why a playwright and a critic may encounter completely different elements which catch and inspire them at a particular time.

As for my students, they were frustrated at not being told a single answer, but they’ve been in my IB Theory of Knowledge class, so they’ve learned (annoying though it might be) that there’s always more than one way to view almost anything. They are gradually learning to find their own way, based on that theory, in the world of theater, and that is actually quite exciting.

What. What? If you’re confused… so am I

So, as I wrote last week, when my print editor – the person responsible for the features sections of three papers which have carried my work for years – was let go, I was given to understand that all the critiquing associated with those papers was going online. My new editor, who was described to me as my “new, online editor” works from a paper owned by the same company, but located at the other end of the 710 freeway. Personal interaction would have an electronic distance, but then it was all electronic anyway.

Okay, I wrote about it, but felt that this was just one more adaptation one was to make in the modern world. I’ve gotten kinda good at adaptation.

Then I opened Friday’s Pasadena Star-News and saw, in print, two of my reviews (and one by another critic – usually of opera – whom I have known for many years). Okay…

I’ll be frank. I have no idea what’s happening. Did the critiques appear in print because of hue and cry? Did they simply have extra room? Or, was the information I was handed by those supposedly “in the know” (who were very close to, if not on top of, the decision-making) not particularly accurate.

So, apparently certain random reviews of mine will make it into print. Yay, I guess. In any case, they’ll all be here, including the ones that don’t appear anywhere else.

And the personal state of flux continues. On the other hand, I did see 8 shows in 10 days, and with the exception of those I must wait to publish so they can appear online at the papers first, they’re all up. Stay tuned for the installment of “had to be elsewhere first” material which will appear on Thursday.

As for the rest, it’s just wait and see and wait.

“Kiss Me Kate” at Pasadena Playhouse: an old friend, a new spin

Wayne Brady and Merle Dandridge star in

Wayne Brady and Merle Dandridge star in “Kiss Me Kate” at the Pasadena Playhouse [photo: Earl Gibson III]

The story of “Kiss Me Kate” has always been worthy of note. The first winner of a Tony for Best Musical, it was the surprise come-back victory for Cole Porter, and his most successful creation in a lifetime of writing songs for the theater. Now at the Pasadena Playhouse, and inspired by famed 1930s productions adapting familiar shows to an African American cast, director Sheldon Epps has taken this backstage musical in a similar direction.

For the most part, this offers up a freshness, making a wittily familiar favorite something one can see through a new lens. Still, there is some unevenness to tighten up before it has all of the impact one could wish.

The essential story looks at a theater company about to start their out-of-town try-out of a new musical version of Shakespeare’s “The Taming of the Shrew.” The director, producer and star is a famed and rather pompous actor named Fred who has recruited the equally famous wife he divorced a year before to play Katherine, the female lead. Thus the edgy relationship between their characters onstage is reflected in an equal edginess offstage, with comic results. Meanwhile the secondary female, playing Bianca, hangs all over Fred while stringing along her longtime partner, whose gambling habit is about to get everyone in trouble.

Beginning with the blues/gospel styling of the iconic “Another Op’nin’, Another Show,” the audience knows this production is going to be challenging its expectations. Jenelle Lynn Randall, as the leading lady’s dresser, grabs attention from the very first note. Merle Dandridge, as the obstinate Katherine, lives up to the romantic yet commanding part of the spurned lover ready for change, and sings the great “So In Love” from deep in her soul.

(l-r) Jay Donnell, Eric B. Anthony, Joanna A. Jones and Terrance Spencer  [Photo: Earl Gibson III]

(l-r) Jay Donnell, Eric B. Anthony, Joanna A. Jones and Terrance Spencer [Photo: Earl Gibson III]


Joanna A. Jones makes a deliciously wicked Bianca, delighted in her own sexuality, while, as her partner, Terrance Spencer’s gee-whiz charm and muscular dancing make that couple’s moments on stage among the most entertaining. Also impressive as a dancer is Rogelio Douglas, Jr., whose “Too Darned Hot” with Randall provides the steamiest moment. Indeed, the entire company – ensemble most definitely included – puts their whole heart and soul into this undertaking with attractive results.

A special nod goes to John Iacovelli for a set which evokes period without becoming boxy, and to David K. Mickelsen for the colorful costumes which evoke the quasi-period feel and the color of old style Broadway musicals. These two help to keep the show in its own era: as a self-styled “American Negro Theater” production in the 1940s.

There are a couple of issues, however. The much-touted star, Wayne Brady, makes that central figure of the producer/actor/director extremely human, but almost too human, too sensitive. The character needs to be, at least when “on,” more of a figure of ego, capturing the stage with an almost larger-than-life quality. That would make his more human, more fragile private moments stand out. Here it all blends, which dilutes the energy of the piece – a situation not aided by a singing voice occasionally on the edge of flatness.

Also, though Jeffrey Polk’s choreography is lively and sometimes impressively athletic, its overt sexuality sometimes seems out of keeping with the time period portrayed. As example, why would an actress’ dresser strip down, mid-show, on opening night, in an alley?

Still, it is fun to see “Kiss Me Kate” again, and fascinating to see how small shifts here and there create a new underlying theme to the piece. And, of course, one more chance to hear that silly song, “Brush Up Your Shakespeare” is never amiss. Also, the opening of this production signals the unveiling of the new carpet and especially the new seats in the theater. That in itself is worthy of celebration.

What: “Kiss Me Kate” When: Through October 12, 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: $57 – $145 Info: (626) 356-7529 or http://www.PasadenaPlayhouse.org

Shifts in My Newspaper World

I have waited to mention it, except to those press reps I contact in the process of doing my job as a theater critic, but now may be the time.

The Los Angeles Newspaper Group has decided to take all theatrical criticism online – at least for the papers I have written for over the past 30+ years (The Whittier Daily News, The San Gabriel Valley Tribune and – for the longest of all – The Pasadena Star-News). They let go my longtime print editor, Catherine Gaugh, as a part of the deal, and reinstated a policy from roughly 25 years ago that anything which cannot be seen on opening day, or at least opening weekend, is too old to be news.

I have already run into a few stalwart, old school newspaper subscribers who are flummoxed by this, but I have to be of two minds about the change. On the one hand, first, it does mean they will continue to run theatrical criticism at all, which – given the shrinking space in the actual printed paper – is a good thing. Second, I can still remember the days when my first editors would panic over the idea of being beaten to the printed review by the Times, so in some ways this is a return to an old standard of competition.

On the other hand, it does make me glad to have this alternate venue for publishing the critiquing I do, as people constantly ask me what I think about productions at theaters I have habitually frequented. If I can’t make it in the papers’ narrow time frame (and sometimes nobody else at the paper does either, due to time or space restraints), I can at least write it here. In this modern era, when some critics actually hold on to reviews until they can print, say, two which speak to opposite ends of a point they’re trying to make, timeliness has a different impact than it once did. I may see something in the second week perhaps, or midway through the week after opening (as I will be doing this week with two theater companies), and will still have a place to offer my response to what I have seen.

After all, I started this blog site on the urging of my son and others who were convinced that the newspapers I grew up experiencing were an albatross as a genre, and would eventually disappear. Apparently we are one step further along that road. I admit that makes me sad.

So, go read the work at the papers’ websites when you can. If it is at their sites, it will be more timely, as I now cannot publish anything in this space which was sent there first until three days after they put it up. (I currently have two waiting for that time to pass.) But if you can’t find it there, I’m right here waiting.

It’s an odd thing, the push into the electronic and post-electronic age: convenient for those who feel comfortable in this new world, frustrating for those – including some of my most faithful readers – who don’t. Well, then, there’s nothing to be done. Let’s pull up our socks and go to the theater. That art form, at least, as it arises from flesh and blood and the passions of the heart, is about as tangible as it gets.

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