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Judith Wilson

Jul 20 2015
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Film: A Wolf at the Door — The Art of Deception

By Judith Wilson

A Wolf at the Door (O Lobão atrás da Porta) is a chilling tale. Inspired by the real-life story of the Beast of Penha and a kidnapping that shocked Brazil in 1960, it is Brazilian writer and director Fernando Coímbra’s examination of the personalities involved and how an act of poor judgment can unleash demons no one knew existed and lead to unimagined consequences.

This isn’t postcard-pretty Rio de Janeiro. Rather, it takes place in the suburbs far from Corcovado and the groomed beaches of Guanabara Bay and begins with a simple flirtation on the platform of a stop on the commuter rail line. Rosa (Leandra Leal) and Bernardo (Milhem Cortaz) quickly end up having a romp in bed, but Rosa wants more than a one-time fling, and things take a peculiar turn after they launch an affair, and she finds out that Bernardo is married. She wants him for herself, and one of her strategies is to seek out his wife Sylvia (Fabiula Nascimento), stage an accidental meeting and use the opportunity to win Sylvia’s friendship and find out the intimate details of Bernardo’s family life.

The lovely Leal’s performance as Rosa is riveting, as she gradually reveals a personality far more complex than a girl looking for a good time and challenges the audience to look beyond her outer beauty and warmth to see the ugliness inside a woman who lacks a moral conscience and has a heart that turns truly frigid when she doesn’t get what she wants.

Cortaz plays Bernardo as a macho, selfish man, who puts himself first and hurts the women in his life while seeming clueless to the damage his irresponsible behavior is causing. Nascimento as the decent, trusting Sylvia shows a range of emotions, ranging from the nagging suspicion that her husband might be having an affair to paralyzing fear when she discovers that her daughter is missing.

This is Coímbra’s first feature film, and he frames the story masterfully with noir elements, beginning with the police’s investigation of the kidnapping as they hear three different versions of the events leading to it, and then going back to the beginning to have Rosa tell her story in detail, slowly revealing a damaged woman who sees herself as the victim in a love triangle and calculates her revenge. Coímbra’s choice of a drab working-class suburb for the setting adds to the sense of desperation and desire to escape that drives Rosa.

The Beast of Penha, Rosa’s counterpart in real life, never expressed any remorse for her actions, and ultimately, it’s that lack of humanity that Coímbra captures, shocking the audience with the reality that evil can appear where we least expect it, and beauty really is only skin deep.

The film (100 minutes) opened at Smith Ranch Road on July 16, 2015. It was released in 2013, screened at the Mill Valley Film Festival in 2014 and has won numerous awards for Coímbra’s direction and Leal as best actress. In addition, it won the Grand Jury Prize at the Miami Film Festival in 2014 and an ABC Cinematography Award in 2015 for best cinematography and best editing. It is unrated, but contains sex, violence and one particularly shocking scene.

It is in Portuguese with English subtitles, and the English title, “A Wolf at the Door,” is something of a misnomer. A more accurate translation is “The Wolf Behind the Door,” and although the difference is subtle, it is a better reflection of the story. Once the wolf is inside, it’s impossible to escape the danger.

Jan 22 2014
Love0

Journey’s End — A Picture of War

By Judith Wilson

The horrors of war are impossible to truly comprehend without experiencing them firsthand, and the toll on men’s psyches is equally difficult to convey to the uninitiated. When R.C. Sherriff wrote the award-winning play “Journey’s End” in 1928, he’d had a taste of the real thing as a soldier in World War I, so he was able to draw on his own wartime memories to tell a compelling story, but he didn’t show the battlefield and attempt to portray combat. Instead, he set the action in a dugout behind the front lines and focused on individual men and the way they coped with the worst ordeal of their lives. In doing so, he created a powerful anti-war message that draws on the human experience and allows the audience to empathize with the characters.

Jim Dunn, director of the Ross Valley Players’ production of “Journey’s End,” first saw the play in London in 2005, and “I was knocked out by it,” he says. He observes that it’s about a war that took place almost a hundred years ago, but has held up over time. “It’s a love story,” he says, explaining that the play looks at the way men lived, how they responded to the circumstances they found themselves in and how they tried to take care of each other. The interaction and relationships are key to the play’s success. Surroundings change, but behavior doesn’t, and that could well be the reason the play stands up so well. Its themes are timeless.

The action takes place in France on two days in 1918, when the troops are expecting German attacks to escalate. A young officer, Second Lieutenant Raleigh, played by Francis Serpa, arrives to take up duties with the company and discovers that his commanding officer, Captain Stanhope is an acquaintance from his hometown. Stanhope bears a weighty burden as a leader forced to send his men into situations where survival is unlikely, and as a consequence, he has become a heavy drinker. David Yen does a fine job of portraying Stanhope, capturing his changing emotions, which range from authoritarian to anger to resignation, as his character evolves and gradually reveals his vulnerability in the face of unrelenting stress.

Rounding out the cast are Tom Hudgens as Lieutenant Osborne, Sean Gunnell as Private Mason, Stephen Dietz as Second Lieutenant Trotter, Ross Berger in the dual roles of Lance Corporal Broughton and a German soldier, Philip Goleman as Second Lieutenant Hibbert, Steve Price as both Captain Hardy and the Colonel and Jeff Taylor as the Sergeant Major. Goleman is notable as a soldier attempting to confront crippling fear, and Berger’s turn as a German soldier shows that anxiety and longing for home are the same for soldiers everywhere, regardless of nationality. This is a strong cast, with every actor displaying a different aspect of the emotional impact of war, but relating to the other actors in often touching ways to create a larger picture.

Designer Ron Krempetz’s set is dingy, with water-stained boards serving as the dugout’s walls, real dirt on the floors and small details, such as a copper bucket under a cot and snapshots from home on the walls. It’s appropriately confining and primitive, but shows that as undesirable as it might be, it’s home for the duration, so the men make the most of it. A small opening to the outside shows the change from day to night and back again, as well as artillery fire from the battlefield nearby lighting up the sky. It serves to underscore the play’s world of contrasts: light vs. dark, silence in contrast to noise, and naiveté as opposed to reality.

Costumes by Michael A. Berg and property design by Maureen Scheuenstuhl, from the vintage Brodie helmets to the teacups on the bunker’s table, add historic elements. The program credits Wally Peterson of Military Antiques & Museum in Petaluma and David White of the College of Marin Drama Department for assistance, and the research and care in getting the details right result in a feeling of authenticity.

The sound design by Stephen Dietz is also effective, with periods of ominous silence punctuating the noises of battle, forcing soldiers who can never be well enough prepared to anticipate what might come next. Before the show and during intermission, wartime music reflects the mood of the era.

Dunn says that he loves military plays, and it shows. His direction, a strong ensemble of actors and attention to detail make “Journey’s End” immediate and riveting. It’s a dark play with little to relieve the tension, but is enlightening nonetheless, with truth in every performance.

“Journey’s End” runs Thursday through Saturday until February 16 at the Marin Art & Garden Center, 30 Sir Francis Drake Blvd., Ross. Thursday performances are at 7:30 p.m., Friday and Saturday shows are at 8 p.m., and Sunday matinees are at 2 p.m. A “Talkback” with the director and actors takes place after the matinee performances on February 2 and 9. Audience members are welcome to participate.

Tickets are $26 general admission, $22 for seniors 61 and over and $13 for children under 18 and students with valid IDs. Thursday night tickets are $13 for children and students and $20 for adults.

To order tickets, go to www.rossvalleyplayers.com or call 415-456-9555, ext. 1.

Aug 05 2013
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Dixie Swim Club — Teammates for Life

By Judith Wilson
Jayme Catalano as Jeri Neal, Pamela Ciochette as Dinah, Stephanie Albergh as Sheree and Hilda L. Roe as Lexie in the Ross Valley Players’ production
of “The Dixie Swim Club.”

The bond between women is often a strong one. It can be so powerful that a community in Japan puts girls together in groups of five when they are young, establishing friendships that last for life, in the belief that the social connection is one of the keys to longevity. That kind of enduring friendship is at the heart of “The Dixie Swim Club,” the current Ross Valley Players production, which explores the theme with mixed results.

The play, by Jessie Jones, Nicholas Hope and Jamie Wooten, opens in 1980, when five women who became friends as members of their college swim team gather for an annual get-together at a cottage in North Carolina’s Outer Banks. They are 44, and the yearly weekends each August have become a permanent fixture on their calendars, giving them a chance to catch up on the changes in their lives, share their ups and downs and give each other moral support. We see four such meetings over the course of 33 years, with the last scene in 2013, when the women are 77.

The first scene shows four friends waiting for a fifth, who has promised a surprise and arrives with a dandy. As they interact, the persona of the various characters becomes evident quickly. The most grounded appears to be Sheree, portrayed by Stephanie Ahlberg, who was captain of their college team and continues to take a leadership role, trying to organize the group as best she can. The needy, seemingly self-absorbed Lexie (Hilda L. Roe) laments one divorce after another, and accident-prone Vernadette (Floriana Alessandria), who makes her customary dash for the bathroom on arrival, takes life’s disappointments in stride with a sigh. Rounding out the group are Jeri Neal (Jayme Catalano), a former nun, and Dinah (Pamela Ciochette), an independent professional woman, who softens as time goes on.

It’s a diverse group, and over the course of their lives, they stick together to help each other share good times, face challenges and accept change. In the early scenes, the issues are less weighty, but as time goes on, the women confront some serious issues, such as aging, failed expectations and loss. The play, however, never really finds a sense of balance. Occasional scenes are almost slapstick, and some very clever lines draw the laughs, but when the comedy is juxtaposed with heavier themes, the play doesn’t know what it wants to be and somehow seems out of sync.

In a character-driven play like “The Dixie Swim Club,” development of the individuals is a crucial element in driving the story forward. We see the most growth in Lexie, who becomes less superficial as she ages and gains depth, realizing that what’s within is more important than one’s outer appearance. Sheree has substance from the beginning, but she is somewhat fixed in her ways, serving the same hors d’oeuvre year after year, until she has a breakthrough moment involving biscuits, which reflect her acceptance of change. Dinah is an interesting character, who as a heavy-drinking, unmarried litigation attorney must have been an anomaly for her generation, and yet the script never goes beyond the surface to give insight into the strength she must have summoned to overcome the obstacles she undoubtedly encountered.

Jeri Neal, in contrast, comes off as a complete airhead who never seems to mature, and Vernadette appears to be something of a ditz, whose family problems concern her—but not too much.

The characters aren’t fully fleshed out, yet the chemistry between the actresses works, and the strength of the story lies in the loyalty and kinship the women feel for each other, with revelations in the final scene showing how much they really do value each other.

All the action takes place in the screened porch of the cottage at the beach, and Ron Krempetz’s set design and Michael Walraven’s construction make it a realistic and effective setting for the character’s interaction, with various doors working to support the action. Sound design by Bruce Vieira takes advantage of popular songs to open scenes with lyrics appropriate for what is to come.

Costumes by Michael A. Berg reflect the personality of each character and change with the times, as do the women’s hairstyles and makeup.

On opening night, director Linda Dunn revealed that “The Dixie Swim Club” was her first experience directing an all-female cast, and she described it as a joy. She expected women to relate to it and said she hoped it would give men insight.

The script is lightweight, and chances are most men won’t perceive the importance of female bonding because it’s not part of their experience. They can, however, sit back, enjoy a few laughs and pay attention to the lyrics of the songs to get a clue.

“The Dixie Swim Club” opened on Friday, July 19, and runs through Sunday, August 18. Performances take place Thursday through Friday. Talk Backs with the director and actors take place after matinée performances on Sunday, August 4, and Sunday, August 11.

Tickets are $26 general admission and $22 for seniors 62 and over and children 18 and under. Thursday night tickets are $20 for all ages.

For information on performance times and to reserve tickets, go to www.rossvalleyplayers.com.

May 24 2013
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“The Sound of Music” — Magic on Mt. Tam

By Judith Wilson

An enthusiastic audience celebrated the opening of the Mountain Play’s 100th season on Sunday, May 19, with a production that fills the hills with the sound of music and provides playgoers with a supremely satisfying experience.

The von Trapp children sing for Maria. (Photo: Robin & Chelsea McNally)

“The Sound of Music,” is one of Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II’s most popular musicals, and the Mountain Play does justice to the Tony-Award-winning Broadway hit, with crowd-pleasing songs, engaging characters and a mountainside setting that makes it easy to get into the spirit of the show, which includes a love story, memorable music and the looming threat of the Nazis as they make inroads into Austria in the late 1930s.

Most members of the audience will be more familiar with the award-winning film from 1965, which starred Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer, than the Broadway show that preceded it, premiering in 1959 with Mary Martin and Theodore Bikel in the lead roles. The Mountain Play, however, follows the stage production more closely and includes less familiar songs that were part of its playlist but didn’t make it into the film, so anyone who hasn’t heard the original soundtrack can expect some surprises.

The show opens with the nuns at the Nonnberg Abbey assembling for evening prayers, but someone is missing. Maria Rainer, portrayed by Heather Buck, is a postulant and a dreamer, who has lingered outdoors to enjoy the evening on the mountain, expressing her appreciation for the alpine environment in the signature song, “The Sound of Music.”

The nuns don’t know what to make of Maria, and so the Mother Abbess decides she needs a change and a chance to reflect on God’s plan for her, so she sends Maria to serve as governess to the seven von Trapp family children, who have lost their mother. Maria is enchanted with the children, and they quickly develop a bond through music, in songs such as ‘Do-Re-Mi” and “My Favorite Things.”

Buck captures Maria’s evolution deftly, as she makes the transformation from being a confused girl who is unsure of herself to woman who is decisive and confident as she takes action to save her family from danger. Meanwhile, Ryan Drummond as Captain Georg von Trapp goes from authoritarian to gentle as he gradually recognizes Maria’s beneficial effect on his children and eventually falls in love with her, while his fiancée Elsa Schraeder, ably played by Mountain Play favorite Susan Zelinsky, observes Maria with a wary eye.

The children are delightful, from Liesl (high-school senior Emily Libresco), the oldest, to Gretl (Elena Gnatek), the youngest. Claire Lentz, 12, has an important role as Brigitta, who never lies and whose perceptions are more astute than those of the adults. Chas Conacher as Rolf Gruber gets cheers from the audience for a heroic gesture, even as he espouses the Nazi party line.

Mother Abbess (Hope Briggs, left) inspires Maria with her advice in “Climb Ev’ry Mountain.” (Photo: Robin and Chelsea McNally)

Hope Briggs as the Mother Abbess is a standout in “Climb Ev’ry Mountain.”

The ensemble of actors and dancers, musical director Deborah Chambliss and a 16-piece orchestra behind the stage, costume design by Patricia Polen and choreography by Dottie Lester-White all contribute to the overall effect.

Whereas film is fixed, every stage production is a different interpretation of the original, with its own characteristics to make it unique. That is demonstrated most obviously in the work of Ken Rowland, whose scenic design captures the time and place with clever revolving sets (with chairs attached) that make quick work of scene changes from the abbey to the von Trapp home to the Katzburg Festival’s concert hall.

Director Jay Manley adds his own special touches—the addition of brothers from a nearby monastery among them— and makes good use of the environment, so Mt. Tamalpais itself becomes part of the show, as Maria and Georg look to it in planning their escape over the mountain to Switzerland.

“The Sound of Music” is based on Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse’s book documenting the real-life von Trapp’s family’s flight from the Nazis, and that aspect of the story takes the production into some serious territory. The menace was real, and beyond the uplifting songs, the story is about the courage of one’s convictions and standing up for what is right. “I will not be heiled,” says Georg, after Leisl’s friend Rolf gives him the Nazi salute.

The Mountain Play’s endurance is a result of the quality of its production values and the loyalty of its supporters, and in its centennial season, “The Sound of Music” shows just how far it has come. It’s another fine chapter in a Marin tradition.

Performances are every Sunday through June 16 and on Saturday, June 8. Tickets range from $20 to $40 general admission, and children under 3 are free. Reserved seating, with cushions, starts at $56.

The free Mountain Play Express run shuttles from Tamalpais High School and the Manzanita parking lot every 15 minutes from 10 a.m. to 12:45 p.m. and takes playgoers back down the mountain after the show.

For more information, go to www.mountainplay.org.

 

May 24 2013
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“All My Sons” — A Moral Dilemma

By Judith Wilson

Family is everything to Joe Keller in “All Our Sons.” It’s the way he defines his place in the world and motivates many of his actions. But money also affects his decisions, and the two aren’t mutually exclusive, so when he takes a risk, everyone feels the repercussions.

Conflicting values and the morality involved are at the heart of Arthur Miller’s “All Our Sons,” the Ross Valley Players’ fifth production of the season, which opened at the Barn Theatre at the Marin Art & Garden Center in Ross on Friday, May 19. The play, set in the 1940s following World War II, captures one family’s unraveling in the course of one long day, as secrets come spilling out, shattering the fragile reality each of its members has built.

As the first act opens, we see a backyard that suggests a comfortable life—roses growing on a fence, a rocking chair on the porch, a basket of apples on the steps. The scene looks pleasant enough, but something is amiss. On one side, a tree—a sapling really—is broken, and we learn that Joe and Kate planted the tree in honor of their son Larry, who disappeared during World War II and whose memory casts a shadow over their lives as words go unspoken.

Bert (Elliot Clyde, left) and Joe (Craig Christiansen) enjoy a lighthearted moment as Chris (Francis Serpa) looks on. (Photo: Robin Jackson)

Joe’s wife, Kate, refuses to believe that Larry is dead, creating a dilemma for the Keller’s surviving son Chris, who is convinced his brother is dead and wants to marry his fiancée, Ann Deever. While Joe and Kate welcome Ann into their home, her presence also makes them uncomfortable, partly because she was engaged to Larry, but also because her father, Steve, is in prison after being convicted of supplying defective airplane parts to the military, resulting in the death of 21 pilots. Joe is the owner of the plant that manufactured the parts and thus Steve’s employer, and although Joe was absolved of any complicity in the case, doubts linger.

The story gets intense when Ann’s brother George (Philip Goleman) arrives for a visit, setting into motion action that leads to an argument and a slip of the tongue that unleashes revelations and culminates in a searing conclusion.

Caroline Altman’s direction, with brisk pacing, makes the production absorbing, as does a strong cast. Craig Christianson, as Joe, brings anger and passion to his role, showing a range of emotions. He undoubtedly believes Larry is dead, but supports Kate’s belief that their son will return, saying that newspaper reports, “Every month, someone shows up out of nowhere.” In contrast, accusations that Steve is a murderer make him angry, and he defends his former employee in an outburst that seems inexplicably excessive.

Kristine Ann Lowry is masterful as Kate, portraying a mother’s anguish as she tries to maintain the status quo, often conveying her feelings in heartfelt facial expressions without saying a word as she insists her son will reappear and at the same tries to protect her husband.

Kate Keller (Kristine Ann Lowry, left) listens to words of advice from Dr. Jim Bayliss (Javier Alarcón). (Photo: Robin Jackson)

Amber Collins Crane, who portrays Ann, manages to convey a kind of innocence mixed with experience as a young woman who possesses a devastating secret. As Chris, Francis Serpa shows the frustration of a man who has experienced war and wants to do the right thing, but is torn between his parents and the woman he loves.

The supporting characters, from Javier Alarcón as Dr. Jim Bayliss, who delivers a message about conflict and comprise, to 10-year-old Elliot Clyde as Bert, who holds a key to the play’s conclusion, deliver performances that round out the story and keep the audience engaged.

Ken Rowland’s set designs, Michael A. Berg’s costumes and an attention to historical detail capture life in America after World War II and place it firmly in time, and yet the play doesn’t seem dated.

Miller wrote “All Our Sons” in 1947, and the story is based on a real-life wartime case in which a manufacturer knowingly shipped faulty airplane parts to the military, causing several pilots to crash and die. The incident is central to the play, which debuted in New York at a time when the memories and trauma of war were still fresh. The themes—family, money, betrayal, conscience—are universal, however and go beyond the limits of time. Miller’s plays tend to be topical, but they work on two levels, both telling a story and reflecting on society, and this time capitalism and its pros and cons are in the spotlight, as well as the meaning of family.

Director Caroline Altman says the play makes her think of shadows, and we can perceive memories of past decisions hanging like shadows over the characters as they struggle to contain their secrets in the face of love and loss. “All Our Sons” is a snapshot of one family’s experience, but the conflict is timeless.

“All Our Sons” runs at the Barn Theatre at the Marin Art & Garden Center, 30 Sir Francis Drake Boulevard, Ross, through June 9. Performances are at 7:30 p.m. on Thursday, 8 p.m. on Friday and Saturday and 2 p.m. on Sunday. Post-show talkbacks with the director and actors take place Sunday, May 26, and Sunday, June 9.

Tickets are $26 general admission and $22 for seniors 62 and over and students 18 and under. To order tickets, call 415-456-9555, ext. 1 or www.rossvalleyplayers.com.

Mar 19 2013
Love0

“Enchanted April” — Ross Valley Players Greet Spring

By Judith Wilson

England in winter with its gray skies and incessant rain can be a dreary place, so when Charlotte Wilton (Avila Reese) spots a tiny newspaper ad offering a castle for rent in Italy for the month of April, she finds the temptation of a respite with wisteria and sunshine irresistible.

Lotty (aka Charlotte) soon convinces Rose Arnott (Tweed Conrad), whose acquaintance she makes at her ladies’ club, to join her, and their plans for a holiday abroad, sans husbands, begin to take shape. The money they’ve squirreled away won’t cover the costs, so they advertise spots for two other ladies to share the expense. The severe Mrs. Graves (Anne Ripley), a widow who hobnobbed with literary notables when she was younger, and Lady Caroline Bramley (Kate Fox Marcom), a young socialite who craves a change of scene, round out the foursome. So, with an intriguing mix of disparate personalities, the sojourn at Castello San Salvatore begins.

“Enchanted April,” the Ross Valley Players production currently running at the Barn Theatre at the Marin Art & Garden Center, is based on the novel “The Enchanted April” by Australian-born British novelist Elizabeth von Arnim. Matthew Barber adapted the book, published in 1922, into the play, which made its Broadway debut in 2003 and went on to become an award winner.

The story reflects Europe of the 1920s, when the established social order was changing, and women in England had won the right to vote and were gaining new rights. Social change also has an individual effect; thus, the action revolves around four women who are unhappy with their lives and are looking for something, even if they don’t know quite know what. “Something has shifted, and I don’t recognize anything anymore,” says Lotty, as she tries to identify the source of her dissatisfaction. Spring, though, is a season for beginnings, and the light and sun of Italy prove to be an antidote to the gloom, as the women begin to blossom and change.

This is a character-driven play, and with Cris Cassell’s direction, the actresses shine, each projecting a distinct personality. Reese gives us a determined, enthusiastic Lotty who seems as though she could accomplish anything, while Conrad portrays Rose with a reserved demeanor punctuated with bursts of emotion that reveal her insecurity and sadness, as she reluctantly goes along for the ride and eventually opens herself to new possibilities.

A perfectly turned-out flapper, Marcom delivers a Lady Caroline who is somewhat aloof yet shows her vulnerability, as she warms up ever so slowly. “San Salvatore is working its magic on all of us. Just at different rates, that’s all,” says Lotty, who perceives, correctly, that Caroline is more than meets the eye.

In a masterful portrayal, Ripley’s Mrs. Graves is stern and demanding at first, laying out rules and stating that “modern language” is not acceptable. Ripley subtly transforms her from a stiff-buttoned up old lady into a complex and interesting woman who becomes increasingly more relaxed in a gentle evolution reflected in her clothing, hair and even her speech.

Although the story focuses on the women, the husbands, Mellersh Wilton (Ron Dailey) and Frederick Arnott (Tom Hudgens), are integral to the plot, and the actors convincingly show the dilemma facing them. Today, their behavior would be considered chauvinistic, but men in the 1920s had grown up in a patriarchal world, so the changing role of women must have been difficult to comprehend. Thus, Mellersh is outraged at Lotty’s temerity when he discovers she plans to go on holiday without him, while Frederick, whose life with Rose seems to be unraveling, doesn’t know how to deal with her intransigence. Both turn in polished performances, with Frederick bringing an unexpected complication to the plot, while Mellersh draws laughs in a revealing slapstick moment.

Ross Berger plays Anthony Wilding, San Salvatore’s owner, and although earnest, he misses the mark, miscast in a role that appears to be intended for someone older, who can convey the experience of a man who has lived through a war and add the sophistication and élan we expect of an eligible bachelor during the Roaring Twenties in Europe.

Rounding out the cast is Maxine Sattizahn as the delightful Italian housekeeper Constanza, whose body language and humor add a light touch to a script filled with little gems. Listen for the word marvelous in Italian as well as English.

Malcolm Rodgers’ sets serve to contrast the dull grayness of Hampstead with sunny San Salvatore, as the characters move from dissatisfaction and uncertainty to clarity and hope. At first glance, “Enchanted April” might seem simple, but in reality it’s a thoughtful play with themes as relevant today as they were almost a century ago.

“Enchanted April” plays through April 15. Tickets are $26 general admission and $22 for seniors 62 and over and students 18 and under. Thursday night tickets are $20 for all ages. For more information or to purchase tickets, go to www.rossvalleyplayers.com or call the box office at 415-456-9555, ext. 1.

Oct 18 2012
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“Xingu” — Back in Time

By Judith Wilson

When Brazilian filmmaker Cao Hamburger set out to make “Xingu” (2012), he aimed to make a movie that was completely different from his previous film, “The Year My Parents Went on Vacation” (2006). Both go back to earlier times and touch on Brazil’s politics, but the resemblance ends there. While the first takes place in urban São Paulo, the second is set in the undeveloped interior of the country and is a true story that shows an emerging environmental sensibility years before such consciousness became mainstream.

The film opens in 1943 with brothers Cláudio (Jão Miguel) and Leonardo (Caio Blat) Villas Bôas smearing dust and dirt from the ground on their clothes so they will fit in with the poor laborers they join in line to apply for jobs. They pass the test, in part by feigning illiteracy, and are assigned to a crew that is charged with building an airstrip in an undeveloped area adjacent to the Xingu River, a tributary of the Amazon, in Mato Grosso state. They recruit a third brother, Orlando (Felipe Camargo), who leaves his office in São Paulo to join them, and they are off on an adventure that proves to be life changing.

The brothers are educated and articulate, and their natural leadership abilities, particularly those of Cláudio, soon come to the fore along with some reasoned risk-taking. As they paddle along the Xingu, they encounter indigenous people who greet them with bows and arrows, but Cláudio insists on approaching them in the spirit of peace and friendship nonetheless, in the belief that he and his men will have to speak with them eventually, and sooner is better than later. It’s a good move. The crew makes friends with the natives, visits their village and proceeds in safety to build the airstrip.

Contact comes with a price, however, and when a crisis strikes the village, the consequences of interaction with the newcomers becomes all too clear. Colonization seems inevitable, but the Villas Bôas brothers come to believe that assimilation, though unavoidable, should proceed slowly, at a time and pace that the indigenous people themselves deem appropriate.

They engage in years of activism on behalf of the natives, confronting moral problems and lobbying politicians as they try to stall further development, and they see their efforts rewarded with the establishment of the Xingu Indigenous Reserve in 1961 and a subsequent Nobel Peace Prize nomination. The largest national park in South America, the reserve encompasses 6.5 million acres of tropical forests and savannahs and continues to protect the lifestyle and culture of 14 different indigenous groups who live there in the traditional way.

The film is in Portuguese with English subtitles, with the addition of Portuguese subtitles when the native people are speaking their own language. The subtitles move quickly, and it would be an improvement if they stayed on the screen a little longer.

Pictures, however, often say more than words, and Hamburger is masterful at showing rather than telling. Close-up shots of native people with painted faces and bodies catch expressions that go from fear to curiosity at the strange sight of white men with facial hair and glasses, and other scenes show details of the culture, including one that involves building a house without the benefits of modern technology. The photography, particularly the panoramic aerial shots, shows the rugged landscape and the vast pristine wilderness that is under threat.

“Xingu” screened at Mill Valley Film Festival 35 and was an award winner at the Berlin International Film Festival. One of the joys of festivals is the opportunity they give viewers to see foreign films on the big screen that otherwise wouldn’t make it into local cinemas. “Xingu” is one of them, and although the film festival is over, it’s likely to be available on DVD or Netflix for home viewers. It’s worth seeking, because in addition to its cinematic merits, it’s a chance for one to see and get some insight into a part of the world that has become the target of demonstrations and the subject of international controversy.

The government of Brazil has approved moving forward with construction of the Belo Monte dam on the lower Xingu River in the state of Pará in northeastern Brazil, and it will be the third largest in the world. The resulting water diversion and other environmental effects are likely to affect others areas in the Xingu River basin, including the reserve upstream. “Xingu” gives us a glimpse of a rich land as it exists now and helps us to understand the lives and ecosystem that are at risk.

 

Oct 07 2012
Love0

Hot on the Trail of a Tropical Treat

By Judith Wilson

Hot on the Trail of a Tropical Treat

By Judith M. Wilson

It was hot, just two days before the first day of summer in the southern hemisphere, and although it was mid-December and well into the countdown to Christmas, chocolate was the last thing on our minds. The tropical temperatures would have made it a gooey mess in our bags, and água-de-coco – coconut water — was far more refreshing in the heat. Besides, Brazil is more famous for bikinis, the slinky rhythm of samba-swaying hips, strong coffee and exotic animals than it is for chocolate, so it really wasn’t a consideration — until the very end of the trip, when we discovered Kopenhagen, a distinctly Brazilian confeitaria despite its European name.
The wait in São Paulo-Guarulhos International Airport was a long one. My travelling companion Armelle and I had killed a fair amount of time indulging in one last snack of Brazilian pastel and fresh juice before our departure and admiring each larger-than-life Papai Noel (Santa Claus) mannequin we encountered. Now, we were down to the stores. We spotted Kopenhagen with its distinctive red storefront and gold lettering and decided that stocking up on some chocolate for the holidays was a good plan.
With unfamiliar choices galore in a crowded shop, it was difficult to choose, but I finally settled on some bars of dark chocolate that were sturdy and would be easy to tuck into the tiny space left in my carry-on. Armelle was a little more daring and declared that we needed a treat. And so she picked a large confection, sight unseen but carefully wrapped in paper, and her selection was probably because she’s French, and the presentation appealed to her Gallic sensibilities. I took note of the name, Nhá Benta Maracujá — maracujá is Portuguese for passion fruit and always gets my attention. It was our last purchase before checking in for our flight to the United States.
By the time we were airborne, it was after 10 p.m., and we were hungry, so somewhere over the interior of Brazil we decided to break out the chocolate. “You do it,” said Armelle, instructing me to split it into two. I carefully unwrapped what turned out to be a conical confection and did the honors, then, after handing over half, I shamelessly started to lick my sticky fingers so as not to lose a single bit.
Now, while it might place below fine chocolate on my index of taste favorites, passion fruit is right up there near the top, so pairing the two flavors struck me as brilliant, a taste sensation to be sure. The chocolate shell was silky milk chocolate, not the dark variety that we usually opt for, and inside, on top of a thin wafer, was a fluffy marshmallow filling delicately flavored with passion fruit. Wow! It had the taste buds tingling. This was one marvelous creation. We both gasped in dismay. We’d bought just one solitary chocolate to share. All we wanted to do was turn around and go back to get more.
Shorty after arriving home, I headed to the computer to find Kopenhagen’s website. After all, we can order just about anything online, right? The word “disponível” appeared next to Nhá Benta Maracujá. Unavailable. My heart sank.
I did eventually find a recipe for something similar on the Internet, but it required passion fruit-flavored gelatin, which seemed to be a mysterious and unattainable item in North America. Experimentation with frozen passion fruit pulp and concentrated juice yielded recipes for a wonderful passion fruit chiffon cake, cookies and delicious ice cream, all of which lend themselves well to pairing with chocolate of any kind, but nothing close to the elusive Nhá Benta Maracujá.
It was more than three years before I returned to Brazil, and the memory lingered. The first thing I did after checking into my hotel in Rio de Janeiro was to seek the location of the nearest Kopenhagen. With a wave of her hand toward the side door, the desk clerk said that the closest shop was down the street, just a couple of blocks from the beach in Copacabana. In fact, Kopenhagen, which Latvian immigrants Anna and David Kopenhagen founded in 1928, has been keeping sweet-toothed Brazilians happy with quality chocolate products for three generations and has 283 shops in 60 cities, so it’s fairly easy to find one.
On my first visit to the store, I learned that Nhá Benta, Kopenhagen’s signature chocolate, comes in several flavors, and although my personal favorite is maracujá, friends on this trip swore by coconut. Tradicional (vanilla), moranga (strawberry), chocolate and canela (cinnamon) are other options. This time, with lots of space in my bag, I returned home with a variety of chocolates for everyone and treated myself to one individual chocolate as well — passion fruit, of course — savoring it with gratitude for Mother Nature’s wisdom in giving us fabulous flavors and the skill of chocolate aficionados in using them creatively.
Finally, for good measure, I visited the local supermarket, Pão de Açucar, to stock up on passion fruit-flavored gelatin. I’ve decided not to try to replicate Nhá Benta though, suspecting that trying to match something that’s already perfect is doomed to disappointment. Instead, a vision of handmade passion fruit marshmallows dipped in rich, dark chocolate has taken shape in my mind, and I might just try making such a confection now that I have the requisite ingredients in my own kitchen. As for the treasured Nhá Benta, I’ll reserve it for another trip to Brazil.