Joe Cillo

 

HYDE PARK ON HUDSON, now playing at Landmark’s Embarcadero and Clay

Cinemas in San Francisco and elsewhere in the Bay Area, is a charmingly intimate look

at President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s life at his home in Hyde Park, New York.

 

The film focuses on Roosevelt’s erotic relationship with his cousin Daisy Suckley,

which only became public knowledge decades later when her letters (and some of his)

were discovered under her deathbed. Roosevelt is played, with a touch lighter than

air, by the great Bill Murray; Laura Linney’s Daisy is a wallflower at first flattered by

Roosevelt’s attention and then angered by its limits. Both are completely believable and

very affecting.

 

The other focus is on the weekend in June 1939 when the King of England, George

VI, and his wife Queen Elizabeth (later the Queen Mother), came to Hyde Park and

were famously treated to an informal (for them) hot dog picnic. They are presented (by

Samuel West and Olivia Colman) quite differently from the way we saw them in The

King’s Speech.

 

Olivia Williams is astonishing as Eleanor Roosevelt. She has her look, her manner,

her physical presence, even her gait, to the life. The screenwriter Richard Nelson gave

Eleanor almost nothing to do, which was a miscalculation. In her occasional few seconds

of action Williams gives the best performance in the film. Also excellent in brief roles

are Elizabeth Marvel as Roosevelt’s secretary Missy LeHand, and Elizabeth Wilson as

his gorgon of a mother. The costumes and production design are true to the period and

beautifully enhance the presentation.

 

The main interest of the film is the insight it gives into President Roosevelt’s life, and

by extension into his work. Nelson (who adapted his BBC radio play for this film), and

Murray too, succeed admirably by their restraint. Some reviewers have criticized the

film for not giving a rounded view of FDR, larger than life (as he could be) and booming

out an inspirational message. But Roosevelt was a hugely complicated man, and Hyde

Park on Hudson is not a biopic. A lot of the value of the film is precisely that it shows

him in a way we are not familiar with – quiet, lonely, exasperated by the tensions in

his household, needing intimacy but also moved as much by his own nature as by his

circumstances toward extreme reserve in his emotional life. By keeping most of the

action centered on small things, and by deliberately underplaying this publicly expansive

figure, Nelson and Murray give us a better look at Roosevelt than most of us have ever

seen before.

 

In particular, the film shows a lot about how Roosevelt’s paralysis affected his life.

We see him in his wheelchair, being carried when necessary, moving with difficulty

by clinging to the side of his desk. During his lifetime the press scrupulously avoided

showing any of this – there are only eight seconds of film in existence that show

him (after polio) walking (with a brace and a strong man to lean on), and only two

photographs (both taken by Suckley) showing him in a wheelchair. The film helps us

understand this part of his life in a way difficult to access otherwise.

 

The visit of the royal couple was not just a colorful episode, but a historically important

event. In June 1939 war in Europe was recognized as inevitable, and Britain urgently

needed American help to survive. But Roosevelt was constrained by the isolationist

views of Congress and the electorate, and couldn’t give the help he wanted to. Not

only were Americans determined not to repeat the experience of World War I, a lot of

them (especially the Irish) were actively hostile to Britain. The Mayor of Chicago said

publicly that if he ever met the King he would punch him in the nose. The real point

of the hot dog picnic was to humanize the British royals in American eyes and make

them appear friendly and approachable, so it would become easier to help them. And

Roosevelt did after this manage a lot of back door help (Lend-Lease, the Destroyers for

Bases program) before Hitler solved that problem by declaring war on the United States

after Pearl Harbor.

 

In keeping with the private focus of the film, close attention is given here to the

personal relationship between the King and the President, which developed into a

strategically important one. It is handled here with great sensitivity and insight.

One false note is the character of the Queen, who is shown here shrewishly hectoring

the King about his stammer and comparing him unflatteringly to his brother (the former

Edward VIII).

This is quite inconsistent with the historical record and all that is known about their

relationship, and it mars the film’s effectiveness.

 

But on the whole, and in almost all its parts, Hyde Park on Hudson is a superbly

crafted and beautifully presented look at a moment in time and an aspect of the life and

personality of one of America’s most important and compelling historical figures.

 

Lincoln

Directed by Steven Spielberg

 

 

This movie has been hyped and promoted far out of proportion to its merit.  Even Lincoln scholars have gotten on the bandwagon heaping praise on this mythologizing propaganda.  At first I was puzzled by this.  I couldn’t understand why so many scholars would throw their support behind this film in the public way that they have.  Are they just afraid to set themselves against something that is so popular and has so much money behind it?  But after thinking about it for a few days, I realized that the scholars are actually the problem.  Steven Spielberg consulted them and probably followed their advice.  He didn’t make this up out of his head, and he didn’t do all the research himself.  The community of Lincoln scholars is largely beholden to this idealized, honorific, and in many ways, false conception of Lincoln that the film presents.  This film is a correct reflection of the way Lincoln is perceived and reconstructed in mainstream American society, and this in turn derives from the scholarly community that has created and perpetuated this Myth.  This Lincoln could have come out of Leave It to Beaver.   He’s a genial, storytelling, wholesome, fatherly figure.  Everyone says Daniel Day-Lewis plays him so well.  I don’t get it.  He’s nothing like I imagine Lincoln to be.  Lincoln was depressive.  Melancholy.  He was forbidding and aloof.  He was indecisive on the one hand, and stubborn on the other.  He had human compassion and a crude sense of humor.  He was a very astute politician, he had a talent for making deals, and an appetite for power.  Psychologically, he was very complex and hard to gauge.  He did tell stories, but his stories tended to be earthy, if not vulgar.  They served the purpose of entertaining people and making himself the amused center of their attention.  At the same time, they served a defensive function in that they enabled Lincoln to conceal himself.  Lincoln the story teller remained an elusive, private, enigmatic man.  The film implies that the story telling was didactic, that he told parables like Jesus to teach people moral lessons.  He might have done that.  He won some court cases that way, but for the most part Lincoln the story teller was a man hungry for attention and approval.  He was a politician looking for support and good will.  This movie simplifies him and turns him into a warm, friendly cupcake.  It is an apology, an attempt to elevate him, beatify him.  It’s a feel good movie, to make Americans feel good about themselves, about America, about the Civil War, and about Lincoln.  It starts out with soldiers quoting the Gettysburg Address back to Lincoln, as if the common soldiers were fighting out of a sense of idealism and dedication to the cause of liberty and freedom.  Then there is a shot of Lincoln raising an American flag, and a scene with him and his wife, Mary, in private having an intimate conversation like a married couple that is getting along well and has good communication.  It’s a lot of nonsense.  The biggest lie of all is the portrayal of Lincoln’s marriage and of Mary Lincoln.  This is an attempt to rehabilitate Mary Lincoln from the corrupt, mentally ill woman she was, who was the bane of Lincoln’s life, and make her appear to be some strong, influential participant in his decision-making and private deliberation.  Sally Field is completely unconvincing as Mary Lincoln.  This is a very contrived, incredible role that has nothing to do with the real Mary Lincoln.  There was one scene that felt real and that was when Lincoln and Mary had a screaming argument over their son, Robert’s, enlistment in the Union Army.  They even have Lincoln slapping Robert in the face at one point — a very unlikely scene that illustrates how far afield they are of Lincoln’s true character.  In a couple of places the word ‘fuck’ is used as a curse word.  This is an anachronism.  ‘Fuck’ did not become widespread as a curse word in American English until the late 19th or early 20th century.  They can get away with it, of course, because not too many Americans know this and they don’t teach it in school.  The rest of the movie was manipulative, annoyingly distorted, and mendacious.  The predominant content of the movie is actually the drama surrounding the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution, which abolished slavery, rather than about Lincoln himself.  This is also a rather simplified, sanitized, honorific reconstruction.  I thought the acting was rather poor in general.  Everyone was overplaying and the characters and scenes seemed simplified and cartoonish.  This whole movie is just annoying from beginning to end.  And it is rather dull, I have to say.  I found myself waiting for it to end.  I couldn’t get interested in anything they were doing.  They have taken an extraordinary time and an incredibly interesting person and turned them into something mundane and ordinary.  If you haven’t seen it, don’t go.  Watch Ken Burns Civil War series instead.

If you want to learn about Abraham Lincoln for real, take a look at Edgar Lee Masters, Lincoln the Man.  It was originally published in 1931 and the U.S. Congress actually tried to ban it.  That speaks well for it right there.  Of the many biographies of Lincoln, which tend to be redundant and hagiographic, Masters is my favorite, because it falls well outside this mainstream tradition.  Most biographies of Lincoln deal overwhelmingly with the last five to ten years of his life, and they focus on his policies and actions as President rather than his personality or his character.  Masters has his flaws, like they all do, but it strikes me as more realistic and it takes more interest in Lincoln as a person.  C. A. Tripp’s The Intimate World of Abraham Lincoln (2006) details Lincoln’s affinity for same-sex relationships.  My paper, “Was Abraham Lincoln Gay?” (2010) Journal of Homosexuality 57:1124-1157, draws heavily on Tripp, and examines Lincoln’s private life and the 19th century sexual culture in which he grew up and lived.  Lincoln and Booth:  More Light on the Conspiracy (2003) by Donald Winkler, is a fascinating study of the assassination of Lincoln and John Wilkes Booth’s relationship to the Confederacy’s intelligence network.  David Donald’s Lincoln is informative and probably accurate in its facts, although it tends to fall into this apologetic, mythologizing tradition, and is heavily weighted toward the last four or five years of Lincoln’s life as President.  One of the best books you can read on this subject is Lincoln in American Memory (1995) by Merrill D. Peterson.  This is an excellent study of the growth and evolution of the Lincoln Myth in American culture, which this present film perpetuates and promotes.  Peterson explains how Lincoln was transformed from this ineffective, indecisive, much hated, vilified president that he was into this godlike icon of American goodness.  It is important to understand this because it enables one to see why it is well-nigh impossible today to get a balanced, “realistic” understanding of Abraham Lincoln.  One’s position on Lincoln will be heavily influenced by one’s take on American history since Lincoln, and where one stands socially and politically in contemporary society.  There is no such thing as “objectivity” when it comes to Lincoln.  He has become almost a religious myth.  It is an annoying myth to me.  It is a false myth that embodies a saccharine view of American society and its history, that is conservative, self-congratulatory, glosses over unsavory developments, and is sometimes invoked to justify highly offensive policies, like the expansion of executive power and the abrogation of basic constitutional liberties.  This film falls squarely in that mythological tradition, and I think was subtly crafted to resonate with some of the recent overreaches of executive power in the conduct of warfare and the bypassing of due process.  I’m not going to make the case in detail, because I would have to watch the film several more times, and I am loathe to put myself through that.  But I remember having that feeling several times as I watched it that I was being bamboozled and that it was really referring to our time, rather than being an honest historical piece.

Steven Spielberg has made a film that he knew would make people feel good and that they would be willing to pay money to see, not something that would disturb them and make them question everything they had been taught about Abraham Lincoln and American history.  He has succeeded very well and will undoubtedly be well rewarded for it.  But count me as a NO!  I am not taken in by it.

Hendrix 70 Live at Woodstock

Directed by Michael Wadleigh and Bob Smeaton

 

This was a one-time showing of Jimi Hendrix’s concert at Woodstock in August of 1969 at the Embarcadero Center Cinema in San Francisco, December 4, 2012. We arrived a few minutes late and the film was already in progress. It was my fault. Sorry. We missed some of the introductory interviews with fellow band members and promoters that explained how Jimi Hendrix was recruited to play at Woodstock, but we didn’t miss any of the concert, which was mesmerizing. Jimi Hendrix had a powerful physical charisma that naturally drew everyone’s eyes toward him. But, of course, it was his guitar playing and his singing that kept people spellbound. I love the way he sings a song. He had a natural feel for how to use his voice to let the song speak through him. He was casual, yet precise. His sound is chaos. It is the sound of a battlefield. It is agonized. There are screeches and sirens, explosions and clamor, bombs going off. It can be relentless and tries to crush you. And yet it can subside into captivating, soul searching lyricism. His voice rides above this tumult smooth and steady. He doesn’t scream or shout. He sings even though underneath there is a seething cauldron.

Someone who knew him once told me that Jimi Hendrix cared about three things: music, drugs, and sex — not necessarily in that order. In my case, I would say it is the arts, ideas, and sex. The order depends on circumstance and inspiration. But I have a natural affinity for Jimi Hendrix. Rock and roll guys tend to be relaxed and easy going, but underneath there is a driving sexual energy that is combative, defiant, and even reckless. The music helps to channel it and give it some structure, but in Hendrix’s case the disorder and recklessness is right on the surface. The chaos is palpable to the point of being overwhelming.

The concert included many of his standard favorites like Fire, Foxy Lady, and Red House, but my personal favorite was his version of the Star Spangled Banner which then morphed into Purple Haze. His version of the Star Spangled Banner is a different view of America than they play at NFL football games. His version is harsh, abrasive, and violent. When the rockets red glare and the bombs burst in air, you can actually hear the rockets blaring and the bombs exploding. It is not a sanitized, romanticized America that makes you stand and put your hand on your heart. It is the violent, rapacious America of slavery, the extermination of the Indians, the pillaging and despoiling of the natural environment, the unnecessary wars, the millions incarcerated, the violence between the sexes, the fear of walking the streets at night, crumbling schools, declining wages, the disillusioned and angry. It is all there in Hendrix’s Star Spangled Banner. I remember being taken with it the first time I heard it around age 16 or 17. I remember many people being offended by it. Hendrix’s Star Spangled Banner is America with the gloves off. He then segues into Purple Haze, which is another of my all time favorites. Missing from the show was All Along the Watchtower, which I was hoping he would do. Altogether it was a magnificent concert, and I am so glad I was able to see it. If it comes around again or they put it out on DVD, by all means try to catch it. Very unfortunate his early death.

Chasing Ice

Directed by Jeff Orlowski

 

 

This is a film about making a film, rather than the film that should have been made.  I think a good opportunity was missed.  This film should have been about the melting ice, the retreating glaciers, and the implications this has for the world.  Instead it was a self indulgent portrayal of James Balog, the photographer in charge of the mission, the suffering hero, and the trials and tribulations of making a film in the harsh conditions of the Arctic.

What is good in the film is the spectacular photography of the glaciers, ice formations, and seascapes in the frozen worlds of Iceland, Greenland, and Alaska.  The film visually documents the dramatic retreat of the glaciers, which is accelerating with the warming of the Earth.  They placed 25 cameras set to continually photograph numerous glaciers throughout the Arctic creating a time-lapse record of the ice melt and retreat of the glaciers that is undeniable.  There is powerful footage of a massive calving from the Colombia glacier in Alaska the size of Manhattan.  One cannot help but be awed by the visual beauty and obvious, alarming decline of these unbelievably massive glaciers.

The film falls short in establishing the significance of its own report.  So what if the glaciers are melting?  Let them melt.  Who cares?  The film does not deal with this.  It does not spell out the implications of all of this melting ice for climate, the oceans, and human societies.  There is brief, passing mention that 150 million people will be affected by a sea level rise of one foot, but who, or how, and over what period of time is not described.

The problem is that too much time is spent on James Balog and the gory details of how the film was made.  All of this should be relegated to minor footnotes.   Frankly, I don’t find James Balog particularly interesting, nor his wife, his kids, his knee, nor all the different problems he had getting his cameras to work under the inhospitable conditions of the glaciers.  He is much too grandiose and masochistic for my taste.  Tramping through ice water in his bare feet to get the best shot.  Gimme a break!  He thinks he is going to save the world through his self sacrifice.  But carbon dioxide is at 391 parts per million and it is still climbing.  That is about 30% more than the maximum over the last 800,000 years.  The Earth is in for some rough sailing ahead and there is nothing we can do about it.  The only question is how extreme the catastrophe will be and how quickly it will rain down upon us.  Balog claims he wants to inform people and get the message out about global warming;  he should do that and get himself out of the way.

Much of the film is preoccupied with the petty troubles of the expedition and establishing what a great photographer James Balog is and his dedication to the project and how much he is prepared to suffer and punish his body to accomplish this noble challenge.  But the issues this film should be dealing with are far bigger than James Balog, his life, or any of the difficulties in making the film.  The dirty laundry of how the film was made should be kept well in the background.  His photographic work is stunning and incomparable.  He really is the Ansel Adams of the Arctic.  If he would put his work in the forefront instead of himself, I would go see anything he does.

This film offers some magnificent views of the glaciers of Greenland, Iceland, and Alaska, and it establishes without question that what is going on is well outside the boundaries of normal fluctuation.  Maybe the filmmakers thought that simply showing the glaciers and documenting the severity of their melting would be too boring, and therefore they felt they needed this human interest aspect to draw people in and hold their interest.  Actually it is the other way around.  I found myself getting impatient watching them figure out the best way to mount a camera on the side of a mountain.  I want to see the pictures they took with that camera once they finally got it to work.  So the film is worth seeing, but it gets a little tiresome and falls far short of its potential.

 

PRIDE & PREJUDICE

Reviewed by Jeffrey R Smith of the San Francisco Bay Area Theatre Critics Circle

The Encinal Drama Department, never one to back away from a challenge, has successfully taken on Jane Austen’s PRIDE & PREJUDICE.

In a theatrical context, there exists a continuum of risk taking ranging from informed confidence, to ungrounded hubris and on to reckless abandon.

Director Gene Kahane may have hugged the shore of hubris on this one, but at the same time he signaled his unflagging trust and confidence in the cast and crew.

As they set sail across the proscenium, he obviously set the yardarm high, proclaiming that success would be their only port of call.

Imagine the odds of an amateur production company taking on a major opus—which required five hour-long episodes when performed for public television—and compressing it into a two act play that would not exceed the attention span of a high school audience nor be reduced to a dramatic narrative.

An adequate plot synopsis of the play alone is over 1200 words, and such a summary is so skeletal that it provides for little character development.

As is a director’s prerogative, MR Kahane rightfully pared the script down to the essentials, leaving enough meat on the bones so that his earnest troupe had plenty of opportunity to showcase their thespian talents.

As the curtain rises . . . wait . . . what curtain?

The set design was so expansively spacious—yet intimate with the audience—that the need for a curtain was obviated.

As the Klieg Lights came up, we were greeted by the tempered strains of violin music provided by Marquise Robinson, first violin and concert master of the Encinal Drama Department.

What? Is this FIDDLER ON THE ROOF?

By coincidence the play parallels TEVYE THE DAIRYMAN by Sholem Aleichem.

In Aleichem’s tale, Tevye, the father is trying to marry his daughters into advantaged positions within Anatevka; in Austen’s book it is the over-reaching, meddling, manipulating mother—MRS Bennet—who is the match-maker of Longbourn.

Just as our planet has two poles, the true north pole and the magnetic north pole, so too does this excellent production.

One pole, consistent with Jane Austin’s original intent, is Elizabeth Bennet, perhaps the true pole.

Elizabeth is the protagonist, the second eldest of the Bennet brood; twenty years old, with character, confidence, intelligence and willfulness cantilevered well beyond her easily measured years.

But alas Lizzy is saddled with the proclivity to judge on first impression.

She reinforces her opinions, engaging in confirmational psychology, sifting through a conflicting body of evidence discarding all that argues against her conceits and embracing all that supports her predilections.

Hence Elizabeth single handedly accounts for the “prejudice” of the title.

Kinga Vasicek is simply stunning as Elizabeth Bennet.

Like an overzealous district attorney she argues with biased passion, unsubstantiated conviction, blanket condemnation and compulsion.

When she finishes dressing down Mister Darcy, the jury i.e. the audience is ready to drag Darcy to either the pillory, the confession booth or to the scaffold.

Miss Kinga’s persuasive and powerfully delivered misguided indictments are augmented by her stern and roiled countenance; one wonders how does she get her face to flush and the veins to standout on her temples when expresses stage anger and mock ire?

Miss Kinga’s role as Elizabeth afforded her opportunities to square off with, dress-down and dismantle nearly every character in the play; by the final curtain the audience is convinced that Miss Kinga’s next stop should be Berkeley’s Boalt Hall.

One also wonders if the character Miss Kinga unleashes could ever be able to shelve her contentiousness for the sake of a domestic tranquility with Mister Darcy.

In the absence of an epilogue, we will never know the answer.

The other pole, perhaps the magnetic pole—although to set the record straight, no one is confirming nor denying allegations of up-staging—is the tremendous performance of Tina Burgdorf as Mrs. Bennet.

Miss Burgdorf’s character—perhaps based loosely on Austen’s Mrs. Bennet—is absolutely a riot; every development in the Bennet family fortunes becomes a melodrama catapulting Burgdorf’s Mrs. Bennet on a soaring, hyperbolic emotional arc.

True Austen’s matriarchal Mrs. Bennet is frivolous, excitable and narrow-minded, and her manners and unbridled social climbing are an embarrassment to Jane and Elizabeth but Burgdorf exaggerates these minor character flaws into hilarious parodies reminiscent of Saturday Night Live comedy sketches.

As the stage adage has it, “there are no small roles in theatre.”

Great acting and a willingness to run with a character—indeed hijack a character—succeeded in inflating Miss Burgdorf’s Mrs. Bennet into a Macy’s Parade Float; she elevated a romantic gothic novel into highly enjoyable modern entertainment.

Almost as ballast for the unmoored Mrs. Bennet, Zachary Bailey plays Mr. Bennet; a character described as a patriarchal gentleman commanding a sarcastic and cynical sense of humor that he uses to irritate and neutralize his wife.

Given our Mrs. Bennet, can we fault Mr. Bennet if he prefers to withdraw from the never-ending marriage concerns of the women around him rather than offer up constructive help?

True to his character, Zachary delivers his well measured lines with low modulation and steady inflection as if to avoid igniting his highly volatile wife; in this respect Burgdorf and Bailey are a perfect pairing for the stage.

Beatriz Algranti plays the pivotal role of Jane Bennet, the catalyst that breaks the Bennet family out of its provincial doldrums and lurches it forward into the vagaries of matrimonial dice rolls.

As is revealed later into the play Darcy tried to scotch Bingley’s plan to marry Jane because he observed “no reciprocal interest in Jane” for Bingley.

Here may lie a glitch in the script.

Contrary to Darcy’s observations, Miss Algranti’s radiant, effulgent and sustained smile for Bingley—as played by Chase Lee—dismantles Darcy’s credibility as a witness.

Miss Algranti’s Jane is a veritably beacon of luminous infatuation; every time she is within eyeshot of Mr. Bingley she radiates romantic love.

Chase Lee is the love smitten, handsome counterpart to Miss Algranti’s Jane; to his acting credit Mr. Lee achieves a certain blissful obliviousness that only Eros and young love can perpetrate on the uninitiated.

Austen’s Jane is arguably the most beautiful young lady in Netherfield; her character—which Miss Algranti has captured with precision—contrasts sharply with Elizabeth’s; Jane is sweetly demure.

Jane too is prejudiced; only she strains to see only the good in others.

Another Klieg Light in this show is Lizzy Duncan; she superbly plays Lydia Bennet, the youngest and most wayward of the Bennet sisters.

Miss Duncan is arguably the best piece of casting in the entire play.

Her character Lydia, is barely 16, is frivolous and headstrong; she enjoys socializing, especially flirting with the officers of the local militia.

Miss Duncan, possibly coasting on the elfin enchantment of her twinkling eyes, signals her character’s casual disregard for the strictures of convention and . . . ahem . . . the moral code of her society.

Lizzy’s blithe smile, lithe gait and insouciant expression collectively signal the audience that her Lydia is devoid of any inkling of remorse for the disgrace she causes her Victorian family.

As Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mario Jimenez is the master of ambiguity and transformation.

Faithfully portraying Mr. Darcy’s initial arrogance, contemptus mundi and haughty pride, Mario deludes the audience in to believing every accusation and invective launched by rush-to-judgment Elizabeth and the perfidious Mr. Wickham.

Mr. Darcy’s aloof decorum, dislike of dancing and small talk, and exacting rectitude are understandably construed as excessive pride.

Darcy makes a poor impression on strangers—particularly Elizabeth—yet he is respected by those who know him well.

Mr. Jimenez’s acting provides for a certain transparency that reveals to his audience that Darcy has more than one dimension and that the true Mr. Darcy is in fact a noble being.

As Darcy and Elizabeth are forced to be in each other’s company, Mr. Jimenez begins to effuse a certain romantic glow, signaling an expanding romantic interest in the naively and forgivably prejudiced Elizabeth.

Ryan Borashan is delightful as the nefarious Mr. Wickham, pouring his perfidious venom into the eager ear of Elizabeth.

Wickham was a childhood friend of Mr. Darcy and now, as an officer in the militia, he is superficially charming and smarmy; just as Elizabeth is wrong about Darcy so too does she misjudge Wickham.

For all the wrong reasons Wickham and Lizzy form an erroneous alliance.

Mr. Borashan’s Wickham displays a convincing, yet duplicitous, charm that earns him the privilege of running off with the bright-eyed Lydia and marrying her.

Again, no epilogue informs us on the outcome of that union.

Several frosty characters, like large monolithic hailstones, litter Netherfield Park and its environs; chiefly amongst them are Caroline Bingley and Lady Catherine.

Caroline Bingley is played with cryogenic frigidity by Caroline Campbell.

Miss Bingley is the snobbish sister of Charles Bingley—Charles, along with Mary and Kitty Bennet all suffered a horrific accident when the director’s hedge trimmers, which he used to hew down the prolix script, went amuck excising poor Charles, Mary and Kitty from the play entirely; they are now known as the desaparecidos.

Miss Bingley has a dowry of twenty thousand pounds and harbors hopelessly misplaced romantic intentions for Mr. Darcy; she is viciously jealous of Darcy’s growing attachment to Elizabeth and is disdainful and rude to Elizabeth.

Miss Campbell is so convincing when performing the condescending snobbishness and vile jealously of the rich, that we eagerly await tax increases for anyone who earns more than we do.

Even more chilling is Cienna Johnson’s portrayal of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

We learned that several people in the orchestra section had frost bitten toes due to their proximity to the set and Miss Johnson.

As Miss Johnson veritably hissed her threatening lines to Elizabeth, one could imagine icy vapors billowing with her every vituperation.

Lady Catherine, as personified by Miss Johnson, reinforces stereotypes of the wealthy leisure class and those with inherited social standing.

Thanks to Miss Johnson’s glacial performance, we are now psychologically prepared to boost taxes on inheritances and tax the daylights out of the trust funds of haughty, domineering dowagers like Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her ilk.

Rarely when actors are double cast do they appear on stage simultaneously as both characters, but Assistant Director Tait Adams breaks that taboo; she played both Mr. and Mrs. Gardner at once.

While Mrs. Gardner was three-dimensional, poor Mr. Gardner was merely two-dimensional, was always forced about by his wife and never spoke without Mrs. Gardner speaking first.

Tait Adams exuded a degree of stage confidence rarely evidenced in amateur productions; her delivery was well chiseled and clearly articulated.

There were several times that the quality of the acting in this play was indistinguishable from professional stage acting—certainly Miss Vasicek’s heated denouncements and Miss Burgdorf’s high blown histrionics—Miss Adams indisputably reached that plane.

Necessity or resourcefulness placed Laura Gomez in the androgynous role of Mr. Collins: an obsequious boot-licker to his employer: her haughty highness the Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Miss Gomez ably transmitted Mr. Collins’ exaggerated sense of self-important and even more vividly Mr. Collins’ pedantic nature—Miss Gomez should consider public education someday.

Supporting actors of this thoroughly enjoyable production included Linnea Arneson, Jess Vicman, Skye Chandler, Megan Jones, Gabe Lima, Brad Barna and Alexandra Barajas.

While this reviewer approached the marquee with a certain amount of misplaced trepidation, he was delighted by the creative spontaneity and vitality of the show.

You may have missed Hendrix at Monterey, Janis at the Fillmore West, Bob at Newport, the Stones at Altamont, hopefully you did not miss a superlative PRIDE & PREJUDICE at Encinal nor will you miss the upcoming DINING ROOM and HAIR, THE MUSICAL.

A Late Quartet

Directed by Yaron Zilberman

 

 

This is the story of a classical string quartet in crisis due to the illness and departure of its cellist and senior member, Peter Mitchell (Christopher Walken).  It is a powerful, moving story, but I doubt that it will have a wide audience.  The audience for this film is devotees of classical music, students in music conservatories, and fusty old conservatives with very conventional ideas about music, sex, and relationships.

It is a film for mature audiences.  When I say “mature audience” I don’t mean that it has sexual content and is therefore not suitable for young people.  On the contrary, I think sexual content is especially appropriate for young people because they are most curious and preoccupied with sexual feelings and issues, and should therefore be taking every opportunity to learn about it in any way they can.  “Mature audience,” for me, means an audience that has lived long enough to grasp the complexities and layers of personal relationships that have continued over a long period of time.  “Mature” means having perspective, being able to see the context in which passions and longings are played out, understanding the limitations and trade-offs, and ambivalences that are inevitable in human relations.  Being able to see that things change and evolve, and what is true today, may not be true tomorrow, and what was true yesterday may no longer be true today however much we might wish it to be.  It means being able to face up to what we are as people defined by what we have done or not done, rather than by what we have wished or strived for.  Young people can grasp these things intellectually, but they don’t know, and can’t know, what it feels like and looks like to a much older person.  That is just the nature of being younger or older.  That is the meaning of “maturity.”   So when I say that this film is for a mature audience, this is what I am talking about.  The issues are mature and the themes are mature.  I don’t mean to say that young people should not see it.  They absolutely should, because it will help them understand older people.  But the issues of the film are not their issues, with the exception of the sexual affairs between the younger girls and the older men, which the film treats very badly, trivializing them, and dismissing them in a rather callous, nonsensical fashion.

I like the subject matter, and the film is very well made, but I have a number of problems with the script.  The female characters are not well drawn, and I think, given short shrift.  The most promising character in the whole film, Alexandra (Imogen Poots), is turned into a confused, spineless, simpering jellyfish.  Juliette, (Catherine Keener) the violist and wife of the second violinist, Robert (Philip Seymour Hoffman), and the mother of Alexandra, is not fleshed out at all.  She becomes a very conventional and inadequate housewife and mother whose only asset seems to be her role as violist in the quartet.  She fails as a wife and she fails as a mother, and is rather problematic throughout the saga.  She seems to want to keep everything the way it has been, but she is not very effective in anything she attempts and we do not see who she is in any depth.

Although sex plays a major role in the story line, the film upholds very conventional middle class attitudes toward sex and relationships, which have nothing to offer but disappointment, defeat, and failure, and you’re supposed to just live with that.  Robert, the second violinist, whose dissatisfaction with his role in the quartet and his marriage is one of the dynamic forces in the film, ends up being defeated in all his attempts to shake things up and alter his position vis-a-vis the others in the group.  He starts an affair with a young flamenco dancer (Liraz Charhi) that gets nipped in the bud by his wife after their first night together, and the very appealing girl is rudely dismissed.  He should have fought harder for her, but he was a total wimp and caved in to his wife with hardly a protest.  The incident did prompt them to hash out some of the issues in their marriage, which are of long standing, as such things usually are, but they don’t really get anywhere.  Juliette takes the typical attitude of the American middle class woman and is prepared to trash the whole marriage because her husband fucked a young dancer one time.  It’s so idiotic.  I’ve seen people blow up twenty year marriages, sell houses, move long distances, fight bitterly over kids and money, all on account of a little bit of outside fucking.  Americans are crazy.  So while the film panders to conventional attitudes, it fails to offer anything constructive or insightful.  It doesn’t raise any questions.  It just proffers pat answers that it takes for granted.

Similarly with the affair between Daniel (Mark Ivanir), the first violinist, and Alexandra, the daughter of Robert and Juliette.  Daniel and Alexandra have probably known each other since she was born.  The first question you have to ask yourself is why this affair even happened?  As the film presents it — which I don’t quite believe — Robert recommends Alexandra to Daniel for violin lessons.  Daniel treats her like a child and belittles her.  He tells her she is not ready to tackle Beethoven’s Opus 131.  I suspect that is something music students often hear from their teachers, that certain pieces are beyond their understanding and they should wait until they are older or more mature before they tackle them.  What a lot of quatch!  So what if you make mistakes?  So what if you don’t understand it fully?  Go ahead and plunge into it, if you feel a strong urge beckoning you!  Defy them!  I mean it!  Of course you’ll play it better when you’re fifty.  You better hope you will.  But you have to start where you are, when you feel the desire and enthusiasm to tackle the challenging new project.  If you wait for a bunch of old people to bless you and tell you you’re ready, you’ll never do anything.  She should have ripped the music book in half and stormed out.  Instead she seduces him.  She is the aggressor and the initiator of the affair.  She seemed to be seeking his approval, and she wasn’t getting it through her violin playing, so she had another way of getting it that she knew would work for sure.  OK, so once you get him, what do you do with him?  Here the film reaches its low point of nonsense.  The affair is quickly discovered by the others in the group, in particular, by her parents, and they go into apoplexy.  Why?  Why is it so objectionable to them?  The film treats their disapproval as something self evident and unproblematic.  But the affair is quite natural and almost predictable.  Robert, in the most dramatic moment of the film –, and very much out of character for a string quartet — punches Daniel in the face and knocks him off his chair during rehearsal — a punch that will probably be applauded by every second violinist around the world.  But it is total nonsense.   Robert becomes a ridiculous figure, flailing about violently, out of control, completely helpless and totally ineffective.   Alexandra stands up very admirably to her mother, but then turns around and inexplicably dismisses Daniel and ends the affair that she just started, although Daniel is firm in his resolve to continue with it in the face of all the opposition — the only one in the film with any real character.  But this makes Alexandra look like a weak, confused, immature idiot.  This is why I think this film treats the women with pronounced hostility.  All of the sexual affairs — which are initiated by the young women — are quickly and definitively crushed, but for no good reason.  The film is simply hostile to sexual relationships that don’t fit into the mold of conventional middle class marriage.  This gives the film an atmosphere of mundane conservatism.  It is very ordinary.  Nothing like Beethoven.

I should probably say something about the Beethoven Quartet Opus 131 in C# minor that plays a thematic role in the film.   The choice of this particular quartet as a centerweight to this film is very appropriate because of the broad emotional range found throughout the quartet from anguish, contention, and turmoil, to relaxed, airy, lighthearted fun, as well as some enigmatic aspects that are difficult to penetrate.  This quartet is rather unusual.  It is in seven movements instead of the usual four, and Beethoven wanted them played without the usual pauses between the movements.  So it makes for a rather long, continuous piece that is demanding for both performers and audience.  Beethoven expected people to have long attention spans.  He should have lived in America for a while.  The piece is somber and anguished.  The first movement is painful.  It is a fugue that stabs at your heart.  The second and fifth movements are much more upbeat, especially the fifth movement, which is essentially a scherzo.   It is somewhat repetitious, but vigorous and lively.  The second movement is bright and almost lilting.  The third and sixth movements are very short and seem to serve as introductions to the longer, more substantial movements that follow.  The sixth movement is a somber, mournful dirge that segues into the vigorous final movement.  The fourth movement is quite long, nearly fifteen minutes.  I found it difficult to relate to.  I couldn’t seem to get a fix on it, emotionally.  There seems to be a longing that is not well defined.  The anguish is there, but it is subdued, almost below the surface, threatening to break through in points but never quite taking over.  Some of the good cheer fleetingly appears and then vanishes just as suddenly.  I don’t get it, and I think it is the heart of the quartet.  It seems to be the center of gravity of the whole piece.  The last movement is rough, contentious, and full of struggle and drama.  This quartet is a mature piece that challenges both the listener and the performer.  It is very fitting to the issues besetting this group of people.

The film has a lot to say about music and performance that will be of keen interest to musicians.  I found it to be very touching and moving.  It could have been a great movie if it had not taken such a conventional, mediocre attitude toward the story line.  At the end of the film the cellist is replaced by a new member, who has worked with the group before, and is judged to be a good fit that will maintain the established character of the group.  So everything stays the way it was.  The quartet continues on playing the same music with the same character and style.  The sexual affairs with the young girls are ended.  The marriage seems to be limping along as it had before.  Everything ends up pretty close to the way it was at the beginning.  Only the cellist is replaced.  And that is supposed to be a happy, harmonious ending.  What a crock!  It makes a mockery of the whole film.  What was all the contention and struggle about if we end up with essentially the same quartet, playing in the same style, in the same personal relationships?  Does the mere presence of a stable cellist subdue all the conflict and dissatisfaction that was afflicting this group from long before this movie started?  This film should be titled “The Triumph of Conservatism and Conventionality in Classical Music and in Life.”

This quartet should have broken up like the Beatles.  I thought about that as I was watching it.  The married couple should have separated or divorced.  The daughter should have moved in with the first violinist.  The second violinist should have left, founded his own quartet and been very successful, and the flamenco dancer should have gotten pregnant with the second violinist’s child.  Now that would have been a good movie.

The Shelton Theater presents……

THE RAINMAKER

By

Richard Nash

Directed by Julie Dimas-Lockfeld

Starring Amanda Gerard-Shelton & Matt Shelton

Magic is believing in yourself.

If you can do that, you can make anything happen.

Goethe

Part of the mission of the Shelton Theater is “to communicate what it means to be human in the world” and Richard Nash’s classic play does just that.  “This poetic story has touched us with its quirky nature and courage to embrace the unknown,” says Director Julie Dimas-Lockfeld.  “It only takes a sliver of hope…to step into the grandeur of a larger and even more real perspective.”

 

Lockfeld worked with actors who have studied at The Shelton Studios.  Together, they created a moving tale of hope, love and beauty “The story for me becomes a romance between the elements of earth and sky – caring and dreaming,” says Lockfeld.  “The heart of the story is about opening up our closed minds and valuing what is right here. Funny thing is that what is here is so much more than what we imagined.”

 

For those of you who do not know the story of The Rainmaker, it is set in rural depression America during a drought that is destroying livestock, crops and hope.  Lizzie (Amanda Gerard-Shelton) is farmer H.C (Phillip Estrin)’s only daughter.  She is single, lonely and as big a source of worry to her father and two brothers as the lack of rain.

 

Noah, her older brother sees her for what she really is, a plan, quiet girl whose prospects diminish with each passing year, but her father sees the beauty that is beneath the surface: her goodness, her honesty and her compassion for others.  He loves her and wants her to find love and companionship, security and comfort.  The younger brother, Jim (John Kiernan) is a bit of a lush and a dreamer and does not realize that while he squanders money and time womanizing and drinking, his family needs him at home to help with the farm.

 

Into this quagmire of starving cattle, failing crops, spinsterhood and frustration comes Starbuck (Matt Shelton) a con man whose real name is Smith.  Shelton has created a character so charming and charismatic that his chicanery only adds to his appeal.  He burst into the kitchen and his appeal mesmerizes both the audience and the family on stage.  “I woke up this morning and I said to the world, this world is going at it all wrong” he says.  The family is so hungry for hope that Starbuck manages to convince H.C. and Jim to give him $100 to make it rain.  Both Lizzie and Noah doubt the rainmaker, but he reassures them: “Maybe God whispered a special word in my ear.”  He goes on to say, “Faith is believing you see white when your eyes tell you black.”

 

This is an ensemble piece and all the actors support one another beautifully, but it is Amanda Gerard-Shelton’s professionally accurate and sensitive performance that carries the play.  We not only hear her need in her speech, we see it in her eyes and her every movement.  She is lonely and she has accepted that all those hopes she once had will never come true.   “I’m sick and tired of being me,” she tells Starbuck and she goes out to the tack room where he is sleeping to find out if there can ever be something more in life for her.   Starbuck convinces her that beauty begins in the mind.  Sometimes, he says, it is a good thing to ignore what seems real, and believe that life is the way you want it to be.

 

When the brothers realize their spinster sister has spent the night with a crazy man they hardly know, they are scandalized. But H.C, knows the importance of love even if it is only for a moment.  He tells Noah,” You are so full or what right you can’t see what’s good.”

 

And indeed that is the point of this play.  We so often let our minds get in the way of our hearts that we keep ourselves from living the lives we could have if we but reached for the stars.

 

The set designed by Steve Coleman is a perfect replica of the time and place.  It sustains the mood of the play and yet looks as if it were plucked out of an American farmhouse from long ago.   Lockfeld uses the magic strains of the violin and artistic lighting to bring the audience into the world they see on stage.

 

The first thing we see is Lizzie in her bunk bed sleeping and we know that she is the fulcrum of the story.  “I just thought that this story is actually more of a fable. It’s more like elements in the psyche and I had the idea to style the production as a storybook tale. I wanted the experience of the actors to be real and personal and we keep working to grow that truth of experience in our work,” said Lockfeld. “Then maybe our modern sophistication and political correctness could be suspended a bit and we could enjoy the old fashioned family love, living close to the land, keeping faith in your heart qualities of The Rainmaker.”

 

The story, sentimental as it is, touches on important truths that transcend generations.  Only we can live our lives and only we can make those lives magic.  Lizzie says to Starbuck, “Maybe if you’d keep company with the world…if you saw it real.”

But the truth is that if we can believe in miracles, they will comfort us. As T. S. Elliot once said, “Mankind cannot stand too much reality.”

 

This is a beautiful production, understated and real.  It lasts an hour and 35 minutes without intermission and in that short space of time, you will be transported into a charming world where thinking makes it so.

Where there is great love
There are always miracles.
 Willa Cather

IF YOU GO….

WHERE: The Shelton Theater, 533 Sutter, San Francisco

WHEN: Now through December 22, 2012,

Fridays and Saturdays, 8 PM

TICKETS: $38 GENERAL ADMISSION

WWW SHELTONTHEATER.ORG

1 800 838 3006

 

 

 

 

 

The weekend beginning Friday, November 16 through Sunday the 18^th , the Fall Fringe of Marin presents its final weekend of two programs of new, original one act plays under the auspices of the Dominican University Players  in Meadowlands Hall on its San Rafael campus.

Program One plays on Saturday, November 17.   It opens with Shirley King’s Hollywood Confidential, directed by Robin Schild. It is a stylized spy spoof, complete with dark glasses and trench coats.   Set to a James Bond soundtrack, Gloria (Gigi Benson), and Duckman (Monty Paulson) enter, guns drawn.  The timing, especially in the opening choreography is spot on. Things get rocky when Duckman, believing he is a superhero out to save the day, reveals his outfit beneath his coat, dons headgear and flippers.  His partner is not amused.

Mysterious Ways , a solo performance, follows.  It was written by George Dykstra, who also plays a bereaved widower who cannot let his wife go.  He celebrates their anniversary the same way every year.  He speaks to her as though she’s in the other room, and goes into long expository remembrances of things past until, tragically, he realizes, again, she’s gone forever.  A phone call from his grown daughter brings him back to reality.  Dykstra gives a well-shaded, deep, but clichéd, insight into this common life passage.

A brief scene change and we are surprised to see a man locked in a bathroom, sitting on a toilet.  He watches through the glass pane and listens to his deluded wife in the next room rehearsing her TV meteorologist audition routine.  This is Martin A. David’s self-directed absurdist comedy, Minerva and Melrose.  Throughout the play,  Minerva (Lauren Arrow),  an adroit malapropist, spouts them constantly (“Pinochle” for “pinnicle”, etc.)  as she ponders her career options, deciding on this one then that, each time believing she will be a instant star.  Melrose , played by Jon Zax, exuding a kindof Harpo Marx vibe, encourages her, but utters snide comic asides as he fiddles with toilet paper.   She has an accident; Melrose unlocks himself from the bathroom, finally freeing himself from his indulgent, demanding wife.  Arrow, a beautiful, big woman who moves with grace, has been seen in several Fringe plays over the years.

Don Samson’s The Game, follows.  Directed by Carol Eggers, it features a young married couple.  Tom, played by Fringe favorite Rick Roitinger, with impeccable timing, and Marion (a believable Emily Soleil) have been invited by friends to join them at a Swingers party.   Tom seems willing to try it, do something different, but Emily hesitates.  They banter, argue, and speculate about it and its eventual outcome.    Emily turns the tables on him which changes Tom’s mind.

How Salt & Pepper Got Put into Shaker is a delightful, costumed, animated bit from playwright Annette Lust’s Pantry Tales series. Directed and choreographed by Pamela Rand the play is an informative piece, narrated by the French Cook (Charles Grant in a perfect French accent).   Originally, salt and pepper were served in small bowls with silver spoons.  But Salt (Terri Barker), in white, and Pepper (Cynthia Sims ), in black, argue and fight about which of them is the most important to enhance foods and please diners, scattering their grains all over the place, making a mess.  This upsets Cook, who decides, in order to avoid this, they must be put into separate shakers.  A nice touch was the court-jester-like jingly hats.

Writer and director, Michael Ferguson’s thoughtful, though didactic at times, Sharp Edges tells the story of a budding relationship between a subdued Melanie (Jennifer Cedar-Kraft ) and an insistent Daniel (David Louis Klein).  Though they seemed to have a lot in common, they’ve parted ways.  When they run into each other during an intermission at a symphony concert, they discuss their differences.   Daniel is honest about his sexual needs and how he sees women, while Melanie, who’s had a troubled life and suffered rape, wants understanding and companionship.

Program One ends with the fast-paced, funny, Sunday Sundays written and skillfully directed by Peter Hsieh, about a group of friends who play croquet together every Sunday.   But, this time, someone forgot to bring the balls.  The piece opens with the four Archie (Jason Hurtado), Nate (Michael Lee Lund), Wade (Everado Leon), and Krista (Elizabeth Curtis), frozen in various croquet playing positions, mallets raised at odd angles.  Angry over the missing balls, they begin to fight, advancing downstage swinging mallets, arguing and blaming, in Shakespearean English.  The scene is rewound, back to frozen statues, starting over.  This happens several times, each time the players advance and speak various dialects: Southern, then hyper-tragic drama.  The funniest were the robot and zombie croquet player zombies.  Excellent choreography.

Some Mime Troupe and Clown Conservatory regulars opened Program Two with the slap-stick, clown piece, Get a Date Show, written by Stacy Lapin & Pamela Rand, with the collaboration of Joan Mankin, and directed by Clown Conservatory founder Paoli Lacy.  Based on popular TV date shows of the ‘70s,- except that this one appears intended for single seniors-  it features an Emcee, Johnny J. Johnson (an acrobatic Ross Travis); contestants, Joan “The Champ” Longjump (Joan Mankin), Gladys Ruffelshire (Pamela Rand); and the lucky date Arthur  (Pickle Family Circus alum Randy Craig).  White-haired Arthur is wheelchair-bound, assisted by his comely attendant, Kay (Tristan Cunningham).  Background music is provided by the Ukulele Musician, Myron Seth Isaacs.  Contestant questions trended towards elder-sex, and contestants judged by physical prowess.  Who won a date with Arthur?  The play was enhanced with a slide show by Rachel Cohen.

Second on the program is On With the Wind in which seniors at a elder facility gather to watch a video of “Gone With the Wind” (the “G” on the cover was missing, hence the reference to “On-“).  It was written and directed by Carol Sheldon, with a lively cast: Loreen (Kathy Holly), Twyla (Roberta Maloy), Lawrence (Michael Collins), Beverly (Donna Andrews); and Floramae (Floralynn Isaacson), dressed as a character in the film.  As they watch, they  talk about the film, its characters, plot, and quote from it; they discuss each others’ outfits, past relationships, embarrassing issues of growing older, and elder sex.  However it never gets maudlin and is quite funny.   Twlya’s droll remarks keeps the repartee from getting smarmy and piteous.

Arrangements  by Clare J. Baker, directed by Gina Pandiani is a comedy about making after-death arrangements.  It takes place in the funeral director Mr. Ashley’s office (reliable Charles Grant).  He can’t decide if his saucy, exotic client,  Reddi Witherspoon, played by  spunky Terri Barker, is flirting with him or what.  She appears to be rolling in dough and wants to be cremated.  There are many allusions to ashes- including  his name- and puns throughout.

One Time at the Zoo, a lively romp, written & directed by William O. Chessman III with choreography by Susan Amacker, is the perfect apré-intermission play.  The Beasleys- Pamela (Susan Amacker), and Gerald ( Michael A. O’Brien),  and daughter Victoria (wonderful 7^th grade actor Melissa Schepers)- visit the zoo.   Victoria teases and taunts the chimp (Ken Sollazzo, thankfully not in a gorilla suit).   Mom and Dad try to give her a lesson in evolution; how close a relation chimps are to humans.  She isn’t listening.  When Dad gets too close to the cage, the chimp goes to work on him and somehow they change places.   Amacker’s choreography works to both Sollazzo’s and O’Brien’s advantage.  To see Dad’s melt-down from a staid, composed man is priceless.

G. Randy Kasten wrote and directed Supplementing, a drama dealing with infidelity.   Husband and wife actors Diane and David Rodrigues play married couple Mindy and Pete.  When Mindy keeps arriving home from work later and later each night, Pete has his suspicions.  Mindy is concerned with her looks, and aging, afraid she’s losing her attractiveness.  The short play is seen in several separate scenes.  In each, the actors wear different clothes to depict the passage of time.  And Pete is always on the couch drinking.   It is difficult to portray a drunk. Even tippler Richard Burton said he had to get sober before he could play one.  In the final scene, Pete delivers a believable drunken monologue to himself in the mirror.

Shaw, written and directed by Ollie Mae Trost Welch, has Shaw (Kevin Copps as G.B Shaw) walking haltingly with a cane, talking to himself about  God.  This is a well-known Shavian trope.  Shaw was an admitted and proud atheist.  However, after his death at 93, people specfulated about what he would say if he met God, and plays have been written about it.  In this one,  Shaw and God (played by Jerrund Bojeste) debate His existence and, where, exactly is Shaw now? Heaven?  Hell? Purgatory? Shaw asks God to prove his existence by making him (Shaw), the age he felt happiest.  It’s difficult for anyone to emulate G.B. Shaw, but Copps pulls it off, even with a slight Irish accent.  How does one play God? He could be anything, or anyone, even a she.  With his matter-of-fact delivery, Bojeste in his pony-tail, beard, embroidered vest, slacks, and loafers?  Sure he could be God.  Why not?

This thought-provoking play is followed by the hilarious mystery farce, The Trouble at Table 23, written by Charley Lerrigo and directed by Amy Crumpacker.   Bill (Manik Bahl) wants milk for his coffee.  He’s staying in a hotel, visits the dining room and asks the receptionist, known only as “Actor” played dead-pan by Jean Davis, who gives him trouble, but no milk; then a waitress, again played by Actor, this time in an ill-fitting wig, also gives him a hard time, but no milk.  She disappears.  A body turns up.   It’s discovered he’s a thief (John Ferreira).  Then, of course, a trench-coated detective, again played by Actor, who pins the murder on Bill.  Man!  All the dude wanted was milk for his coffee!  The audience laughed throughout at the absurdity of it all.  Poor Bill.

She Has a Plan, by George Freek, directed by Jim Colgan, ends Program Two.  A married couple played by Ayelette Robinson as Martina Hoople, and George Doerr as Henry Hoople, visit a marriage counselor, Ms. Pennyworth (Cynthia Sims).   Martina wants Henry, who really appears to be a weak, ineffectual man- much credit to Doerr’s acting- to be more manly, stand up for himself, and not be such a wimp.   Marina and Pennyworth have devised a plan, unknown to Henry, which involves Bert, Martina’s big, beefy ex-,  perfectly rendered by Simon Patton.

Visit www.Fringofmarin for directions and information.

 

 

 

IN DEFENSE OF BIRQAS

By Lynn Ruth Miller

A woman’s face is her work of fiction.

Oscar Wilde

I have reached the age when looking in the mirror has become a nightmare.  Either I see my mother or a woman who looks ready for a plot.  If the night before has been particularly grueling, I don’t see much at all.

 

I find that it takes a lot of work these days to get my face ready for public viewing.  I am not talking about going to a formal dance or meeting a dignitary.  I am saying that before I dare leave the house, I have a time consuming, discouraging and ego damaging routine I must follow before I dare greet the outside world.

 

As soon as I wake up, I drink 12 ounces of warm water to hydrate my skin.  I use a special facial sponge to wipe the sleep from my eyes and remove the rivulets of sand that have lodged in the wrinkles on my face and dripped down the folds of my neck.

 

I haul out a magnifying mirror and work on the white heads, uneven bumps and enlarged pores that spring up as if by magic during the night. Then I address the lush new growth of hair in my lip, my chin and hanging from my nostrils.

 

I apply a light moisturizing lotion to try to plump up the sagging pouches around my eyes and under my chin.  I pat the skin dry and hope those gaping pores close.

 

They don’t.

 

I apply a mild sun screen to the entire region of flesh above my collar bone.  It is impossible to separate my jawbone from my clavicle.  They have coagulated into a soft mass of unidentifiable epidermis. I have not seen my neck in fifteen years.   I slather on moisturizer and hope it sinks into all the right places.

 

It doesn’t.

 

My skin has developed so many colors that I cannot decide if it is a plaid or a print. Both peaches and cream are but a memory.  I apply a foundation that is the color of what it once was when it glowed with the blush of youth.  This was so many years ago that I am not sure I have chosen the right shade.  The one I am using is a tad darker than bleached cotton but not so dark that I look like an immigrant.

 

It is now time to do my eyes.  The first challenge is locating them.  They are wedged between the folds of my eyelids and the puffed gray pillows around what is left of my eyelashes.  I rub a bit of oil on the lids and then a tad of eye shadow to match my outfit.    I need to be careful because if I am wearing a vivid combination of color, my eyes will look like Bozo’s.

 

I am now ready for THE BIG CHALLENGE.  I must use a pencil and draw a line right above my eye lashes and directly under my eye.  This can take anywhere from twenty minutes to several hours depending on how many times I jam the pencil into my cornea or dislodge my contact lens.

 

Each morning my cheeks sag a few inches closer to my collar bone. I need to redefine them with rouge.  The trick is to add just enough tint so I don’t look dead.

 

I look in the mirror to see if there has been any improvement.

 

There hasn’t.

 

I so envy the women of the Middle East.  They wake, drape themselves in a burqa and go out on the town.  Oh, I know they are subservient and need to shut up and take it.  But the truth is that with a face like mine, no one is going to want to give it to me anyway unless I cover it up.  There is a huge advantage to draping yourself in a filmy bit of fabric and leaving your appearance to the imagination.  I could probably pass for a real looker unless it’s a windy day.

While you’re saving your face;

You’re losing your ass.

Lyndon Johnson

FOODIES! THE MUSICAL

By Morris Bobrow

Starring David Goodwin, Kim Larsen, Sara Hauter, Deborah Russo

 

Statistics show that of those who contract

The habit of eating, very few survive. 

George Bernard Shaw

 

Everybody does it….we all look forward to breakfast lunch and dinner….and unless we are anorexic, we indulge in all three, every day.  But in the Bay Area, eating and the food experience have been elevated to a pretentious and elaborate ritual. Morris Bobrow pokes fun at it all in this new, delightful and all too real spoof about what advertising, heath addicts and the medical community have managed to do to our eating habits. 

 

The show opens with a full cast presentation “I Like to Eat” (and who doesn’t?) and works its way through pompous waiters, falling in love with the food truck guy and trying to keep it kosher.  Who cannot see themselves and blush when the cast is so excited about a new place to eat that they simply cannot choose. “OMG” they sing, and that is exactly what we say when we find a new and different restaurant. 

 

We all have been put off by the pompous waiter who not only gives you dining suggestions but tells you his life story.  We have been smothered in the friendly restaurant atmosphere where you meet everyone involved in creating your meal.  Who can forget Deborah Russo ‘s brilliant smile when she announces, ”I’m your dishwasher!”?  It is almost too real to be funny.   

 

The hour is filled with many memorable moments, but unforgettable is the song, “Taking the Waters” that discusses the different types of water we drink these days in the same lingo that wine connoisseurs evaluate wine (and that in itself is about as affected as you can get.)  Gone the days when you could walk up to a counter and ask for a cup of coffee.  Now you have so many choices and so many decisions, it is almost easier to forget the whole thing and buy a tea bag. 

 

All the habits we have adopted, the hang ups that guide us, the foolishness in the name of health we read about and hear about every day are lampooned in this tuneful, energetic, beautifully paced little musical.  We smile; we tap our feet; and we love every minute of this performance because each person in the audience has experienced the frustration of worrying about what the food we are eating ate, and the humiliation of cooking a wonderful meal that no one likes.  It has happened to all of us, but in FOODIES: THE MUSICAL, we don’t throw pots and pans at one another, we laugh.

 

Don’t miss this opportunity for a  unique, laugh-filled hour filled with unforgettable tunes by the very talented Morris Bobrow, composer of “Shopping! The  Musical!” And “Party of 2-The Mating Musical.”  The cast work together as a team and yet each one shines in his own way. The music is hummable and never detracts from the movement on stage.  The show is as marvelous to watch as it is to hear.  It doesn’t get much better than that.     

 

Where: The Shelton Theater, 533 Sutter (at Powell), 433-3040
When: Preview performances Sept. 28-29, Oct. 5; show runs Fridays and Saturdays from Oct. 6-Nov. 17
Cost: $30 for previews; $34 general (purchase via Brown Paper Tickets)

 

To eat is a necessity, but to eat intelligently is an art.
François de La Rochefoucauld