To all of the theatres who produce plays that run longer than 90 minutes, please be advised: Your play is not so special that it does not require an intermission. Your play is not so good as to live beyond the limits of bladder and stomach. Your play is not so fabulous that old men do not need to pee, and young women do not need to snack during its brilliance. If your play requires an intermission, please give it one. Especially if serving alcohol during the show.

That being said…  Three Pianos at American Repertory theatre is a play about three men in and out of German composer Schubert’s time experiencing a “Schubertiade.” What’s that? You don’t know what a Schubertiade is? Brief internet sleuthing tells me that indeed, this is a real word and not something the playwrights or A.R.T. made up to support the premise of this loosely strewn together play that explores . . . that delves into . . .

Well, I am not sure what to tell you about this play. I know that I was chastised by an audience member when I shared that I try not to read anything about the play prior to arriving at the theatre. I let the theatre itself – the program and the performance – influence my experience of the art. Did I receive the email from Diane Paulus with a lengthy guide to the play? No. Shouldn’t you read as much as you can about her brilliant vision for this play within the A.R. T. season? No. Haven’t you studied Schubert prior to coming so that you could recognize the musicians’ tampering with his work? Nope nopetty No.

I may never have attended a Schubertiade, but I have perhaps been accidentally involved in more than a few Shakesperiades – which I suppose would be intense conversations on the meaning of life centered on Shakespeare’s text.  This I know: “The play’s the thing / Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the King.” The play is the thing that must move the audience. The play. Not the marketing, nor the blog, nor the email from the Artistic Director about her vision.

Three Pianos may have been more moving in its original incarnation at the New York Theatre Workshop, but that is not the production I am privy to review. This production seemed like a college play complete with trite ruminations from young men about love, adolescent hissy fits while drinking into a stupor, and design tricks that are straight out of an Introduction to Guerrilla Theatre textbook.  If neon lights shined on the audience and me one more time, I was quite certain that I would go blind. If yet another A.R.T. employee poured a glass of wine for the drunken man next to me, I was going to puke myself.  There was a lot of technical fluff on top of a play that was supposed to be about Three Pianos.

I’ve heard that the performances were moving in New York. In Boston, I could rarely hear them or understand them.  These playwright-producer-dramaturges were not adding enough “-actor” to their depiction and I found their performances flat—when I could hear or understand them.  The structure of the play itself was baffling or perhaps missing. I was once taught that the worst defense for poor play structure is, “But that’s the way it really happened!”  This whole play seems to be a series of moments that might have really happened, but they didn’t happen to me that night in the dark theatre. Actually, they didn’t happen to me that night in the neon-office-lighting-on-the-audience-to-make-a-point theatre.

I understood where this play was trying to go, and if I were to now regurgitate the marketing to you, I would tell you that this play is a drunken romp of youth centered on quintessential questions about the nature of love, life and death. That is what the play is supposed to be about, and I actually do think it is worth your time to go, drink a lot of red wine, and decide if get any of that out of this production.

-Mary ElizaBeth Peters

As the final curtain fell, the house lights rose, and I began my way out of the Loeb Drama Center, my ears couldn’t help but hone into the conversation happening behind me. A woman remarked to her theatergoing companion, “Well, I give it an A for effort.” In the moment, I couldn’t help but focus on the tactlessness of such a statement while still inside the theater. However, upon further thought, I have to agree with the tactless stranger. The credit for this A undoubtedly goes to the cast of consummate professionals who brought this work to life at the American Repertory Theater. As adept as they were, though, their talent alone could not save this haphazard production.

For the purposes of full disclosure, I absolutely did read Stephen Sondheim’s open letter to The New York Times regarding the “blasphemous” treatment of Porgy and Bess by this creative team, and I entered the theater very tentatively the evening of this performance. I am not an aficionado of Porgy in its original form, but many of the changes preview interviews were indicating made me uncomfortable. I am pleased to be able to report that the hype is incredibly disproportionate to the actual changes, and that during previews taking place before I saw the show, Diane Paulus restored the show’s original ending, opting for Bess to not return as Porgy sets off in search of her.

Audra McDonald was absolutely resplendent as Bess, commanding the audience’s attention whenever she took to the stage. Her acting was impeccable—she really brought a tender depth to the character making every intention crystal clear. Likewise, Norm Lewis as the lame beggar Porgy (New! Improved! With a cane!) was a delight. The journeys these two characters take together are deftly executed by their actors, and deepened by the wonderful on-stage chemistry the two share.

The rest of the cast was nothing to shake a stick at, either. Nikki Renée Daniels, as Clara, set the tone for the entire show with her beautiful and fresh rendition of the signature “Summertime” while holding a real live baby (Special kudos are owed here—the infant didn’t make a peep). Mariah, played by NaTasha Yvette Williams, brought a maternal tenderness to each of her scenes and songs. David Alan Grier as the “happy dust”-peddling Sportin’ Life brought a seedy finesse to the character, he really makes the audience see the allure Bess sees in him. Phillip Boykin’s Crown did leave something to be desired, though. His acting was decidedly more “opera” than “theatre,” and not quite up to par with his peers on stage. The ensemble, as they gathered to gamble, picnic, or hunker down for a storm, was in top shape vocally, though when they were executing Ronald K. Brown’s distracting choreography, their ability to aid the storytelling was lessened.

Diane Paulus’ unfocused direction really was the iceberg in this Titanic situation (I’m not joking—the scenery actually tips up at one point, causing this reviewer to go to the only logical place he could: Yeston and Stone’s musical Titanic). There were so many moments I sat in my seat thinking, “Wow, what a wonderful opportunity to create some sexy dramatic tension,” yet the dramatic tension’s invitation to this dinner party clearly got lost in the mail.

The new book scenes contributed by playwright Susan Lori-Parks added between the songs simply serve to halt the flow of the show instead of helping it move forward. The dialect in the book scenes is noticeably different from the dialect in the lyrics of the songs, and the two do anything but play nicely together on stage. It was very jarring to see the characters begin singing in “demeaning 1930s black people talk” and then, by contrast, appear 300 times more articulate when speaking to one another, only to switch back when they began singing again. On the topic of music, William David Brohn & Christopher Jahnke’s orchestrations were played beautifully by the 18-member pit band led by conductor Sheilah Walker.

The real star of the production team is Christopher Akerlind, for his beautiful lighting design. It is an inside joke among my friends that when I am searching for something nice to say about a production, I will immediately default to “Well, the lighting was good.” In this case, however, I am incredibly earnest in this statement. His beautiful use of horizontal-facing lights to create shadow plays on Riccardo Hernandez’s towering set was very effective, as was the lighting effects to create a full-fledged hurricane at the pinnacle of the second act (I was more afraid of the rain on the stage of the Loeb than I was of Tropical Storm Irene).

Overall, I keep coming back to the “A for effort” statement. Temporarily removing my “critic” hat (and what a fabulous little number it is, too), seeing a production of this reimagined American classic with such an impeccable cast was amazing. With some tweaks to the work itself and some serious direction doctoring before it hits Broadway in December, it’s possible this becomes one of the roles that defines McDonald’s career as an actor. The opportunity to see her play this role should not be missed.

Audra McDonald and Norm Lewis share an intimate moment at “Bess” and “Porgy”.

I will admit, I’ve had a lot of trouble deconstructing my thoughts on this piece. I struggle to be the one to speak against the popular opinion, notably those in awe of the use of technology in this supposedly progressive piece.  But does that really make something new and unique? Does it make something with an obtuse plot, poor sound quality, and what in essence is remote control cars a major step forward for opera?

I’ve been battling these questions in my mind ever since I saw Tod Machover’s work, and I keep going back to what my companion’s response to the opera was. Upon leaving the theater he said “The visual effects were really cool, but I have no idea what happened on stage. Was that supposed to affect me in some way?” I also have thought of what I’ve told my peers and coworkers about the show. “I liked watching it, but I wouldn’t recommend you see it.”

Now, what has made me think that? Well, the music for one. Being an opera and classical music enthusiast, I thought it was beautiful. The modern composition was flawless and was so well written for singing I was floored. Tod Machover ingeniously put together a score that was not muddled, or too avant guarde, and the singers performed it with an ease and grace that I haven’t heard in modern music ever.

The plot is where Robert Pinsky and Randy Weiner jumped the shark. I read the synopsis before walking into the theater, so I knew what was coming and the background of each scene, but without that prior knowledge, I would have no idea what was happening. The characters were just shells, there was no back story other than a 30 second image montage for each character at the very beginning of the piece called the “download” and it did not give any insight to their thoughts or feelings on themselves or the world. This piece was supposed to be about death, evolution, technology and the path to immortality but none of that came through. The only striking human moment was when ” the miseries” – a large hoard of ragged people flopped around the empty stage for one scene.

The singing was wonderful with James Maddalena, Emily Albrink and Sara Heaton standing out the most. I question the use of counter-tenor Douglas Dodson as “The United Way”. Why not have a woman instead? The jaunting look and sound of his voice paired with his physical presence was distracting and there didn’t seem to be a reason for him being a man. The Orchestra, headed bu Gil Rose, worked perfectly with the music and the singers and I truly applaud the musicianship of the whole piece. The use of lighting and multi-media and robotic set pieces,created by Peter Torpey, Ben Bloomberg and Matt Checkowski was powerful to see. I did expect the robots themselves to have electronic voices, but was disappointed to find that their singing was just from the human singers backstage in a sound booth with a microphone.

The directing suffered from a bad script and a lackluster story, but I don’t know what one can do with a piece that has so little bulk to it. It all comes back to the writing itself. It’s so lack-luster compared to the story they were trying to tell that even the entire opera isn’t worthwhile. I hate that I feel so strongly about it, because of all the good that’s involved. But no amount of high flying technology or musicality can overcome a badly written, though imaginative story.

The Operabots. Photo by: Jonathan Williams.

The ART continues it’s Greek Fest with it’s stunning premiere musical theater piece “Prometheus Bound.” The first three words that come to mind when leaving the theater are FANTASTIC, SEXY, and ROCKIN’! This show was a great representation of new trends in the theater and exemplified a-typical direction and bringing the theater to the people. Go see it…

The biggest props go out to Diane Paulus. She is the brains behind this production and her direction was stellar. She brought together the masterminds – writer Steven Sater (of Spring Awakening fame) & composer Serj Tankian (lead singer and songwriter for System of a Down) and put them to work on this telling Greek myth. Their work together created something exciting for any kind of audience member as could be seen by the completely different types of people in attendance.

The myth itself focuses on Prometheus who stole fire for the human race from the Olympian gods and was withholding a prophecy from Zeus himself about his downfall. Because of his crimes against a tyrannical dictator, he was sentenced to be bound for eternity with a crow eating his liver every day just to wake up the next morning with a new organ to be eaten again. This project is also paired with Amnesty International who dedicate each performance to a different prisoner of modern-day oppressors. It’s a perfect combination of political activism and outrageous theater.

The cast was superb, and I’d be wrong to not point out that they are very easy on the eyes…

Gavin Creel as a shirtless Prometheus is sexy, haunting and has a rock voice to go with his great acting skills while being tied with chains to every corner and ceiling in the theater at once. Uzo Aduba as Io was gorgeous and captivating and projected a great Tracy Chapman to the extreme. She opened the show and closed it with The Titan, Prometheus that set the tone for the whole evening. The Daughters of the Ocean were a perfect rock trio. Celina Carvajal, Ashley Flanagan and Jo Lampert came out of no where with great blending in tone and action and always kept the right attitude for the space and distinction from the other players. I just wish they each had a little solo time to really let us here their beauty. Michael Cunio as Oceanos was unquestionably the hottest player in the room. Clad in leather including a black studded dorsal fin, his crooning, attitude and looks kept my attention the whole evening. Gabe Ebert as Hephaistos was not very convincing, but his turn as the coked out Hermes rocked the room. Lea Delaria was the least memorable from the group. Her scat in the trio “Time of Conclusion” was great, but the rest of the time just came off as stereotypical angry lesbian when she could have been so much more for the role of Force – this productions version of Zeus.

Emily Rebholz’ costume design was right on the money. It’s got to be hard to create looks for gods and goddesses and make each costume fit into the hard rock edge of the shows music, but her stylings were hardcore and awesome. Kevin Adams’ lighting was a little par for the course. It fit into the club feel of the room well, but I wanted the lights to really shine on the players more as they didn’t stand out enough against the black of the theater space and the black of the costumes that most players had on.

The biggest applause goes out to the band. They nailed their performance and kept the room rollin throughout the night to the point where the “groupies” (other actors in street clothes scattered in the audience) weren’t even needed to keep the hype alive in the room.

In conclusion, this show = amazing. Run…don’t walk…to buy your ticket.

Michael Cunio and Gavin Creel. Photo by: Marcus Stern.

The set appeared to me as it could be the inside of any army tent seemingly in the middle east. Overturned chairs and tables of a mess hall with a coke machine in the corner and blood on the floor. The lights coming through the thin walls of the tent and more videos of peoples heads projected on the  roof. It was an interesting design and I was intrigued to see how it played out in the play’s new adaptation.

Historically, a Greek tragedy has a very unique form. Mostly, an audience member comes into a show with a prior knowledge of background story and with an idea how the show will end. There is no action that takes place on the stage for the audience to see, just the characters telling us what they’ve just done out of our periphery and remarking on how it will affect their lives. The most special aspect of these plays comes from the use of a chorus- a body of players who remark on what the main characters have done and how an audience should respond to it. This production’s use of  chorus is what made this piece different than any other Greek tragedy I’ve ever seen. Instead of live action, the chorus were different videos of regular people who spoke about their own experiences with the war today and how it affects them and their view of the world. It was a great use of multi-media, but half-way through the show they changed. They first started talking about themselves in real life, but when the action of the play got more and more agitated they began talking about Ajax as a real figure they looked up to and how his trials and errors affected them. It was very strange to see them go back and forth between real life and the play and confused me and my companion as to what they were talking about and how they mattered at all. Unfortunately, I feel like the production missed a great and powerful opportunity to utilize the multi-media aspect of the chorus to further enhance the production, and instead worked against the theme of the production.  It isn’t the first time I’ve noticed that the incorporation of multi-media elements sometimes falls flat in A.R.T. productions.

Fortunately, there were some great acting moments to counteract the confusing chorus. Linda Powell as Tecmessa did a wonderful job as Ajax’s companion. It seemed to take her a little while to warm up, but made up for it through being actively present in every instant she was on stage. I believed all the turmoil she was going through and prayed with her for a better ending. Ron Cephas Jones as Odysseus was superb and honest, though his voice was hard to hear at times. Nathan Darrow as Teucer was genius and won me over for the best actor on the stage, while Remo Airaldi as the Chorus Leader annoyed me with all his statements and seemed like a low life that had too much to say. The show’s title character played by Brent Harris was a little unnerving, not because of the things his character did, but as my companion put it “he just yelled at us the whole time.” I must say, I agree with that statement and wish he had given a more nuanced performance, as a title player.  I also need to give a shout out to Kaaron Briscoe as Athena who reminded me of Condaleezza Rice in the trenches of an unjust war. Kudos to you!

All in all, the show was just “alright” for me. I expected there to be more comparison to the times and wars we’re living in today, but apart from the set (complete with gutted animals) and costumes (army fatigues)  all by David Zinn, nothing stood out as reminiscent to anything in the middle east today. This might be because the translation by Charles Connaghan was very close to the original while Sarah Benson’s directing idea only related to today. They didn’t correlate with each other and ended up making a confusing mash up of Greek Tragedy meets the war on terrorism.

Mesafint Goldfeld and Brent Harris. Photo by: Michael Lutch.

At the commencement of the production, the audience is exposed to a playful delivery of exposition through a film.  The use of this convention is both an appealing and attention grabbing way to get through the nitty gritty of the plotline.  Then begins the haunting melancholy of Daniel Jenkins’s Max.  This juxtaposition of joy and despair prevails throughout the production.

One of the strengths of the piece is in its lightning fast transitions.  The action seamlessly flows through each characters struggle to find meaning in their lives in the turbulent period following World War I.   Effortlessly, the audience is transported from Max’s borderline catatonia of the 1950’s to the Belle Epoch, where life was good and no one was unhappy, to the bloody, inert trenches.  Throughout, nothing is really what it appears to be.

Upon learning of Stephen Schwartz’s role as producer, the existentialist tone of the piece is not surprising.  All four primary characters seek to define their existence, to determine what their purpose is for living.  We watch as they muddle through the bitter intoxication of grief, and try to piece together what is left of their lives.  Max does this most literally, becoming engrossed in his creation of a book of collages.  When asked why he does collages, Max responds “why do we do anything?” He then philosophically reveals that, to him, creating collages is a way to gain control that has thusly eluded him, to manipulate the people and events of his life and have some effect over his destiny.

One aspect that the plotline lacks is the lack of development of characters’ relationships.  This, however, is true to the philosophy of the piece.  Each character is merely a pawn, being manipulated by some unknown entity.  When a relationship works, we do not know why- it just fits.

Jim Bauer’s music is positively breathtaking, drawing inspiration from elements as diverse as an oompa band, classic country and rock music’s concept album era. Most notable are the pulsing, primal palpitations of the percussion.  It is the one consistent element, a driving force for a story that spans many decades and several wars. Simply put, it is one of the most hauntingly beautiful musicals I have ever heard.

If you are looking for shallow, more traditional holiday fare, then look elsewhere.  However, if you are looking for a theatrical experience that you will be thinking about for days to come, then see A.R.T.’s “The Blue Flower”.  Through this awe-inspiring, thought provoking production, audience members cannot help but leave contemplating their own existence, as well as the complexities of the human condition.  After all, “the greatest mystery of all is reality.”

Stunning and disturbing visuals.

The American Repertory Theater’s spring festival, America: Boom, Bust and Baseball, presented it’s second offering at the Loeb Drama Center this week.  Falling under the label “Bust”, Clifford Odet’s Paradise Lost is a pithy tale of loss in the wake of the Great Depression which has some startling, and at times disturbing similarities to our current economic climate.

I’m used to the A.R.T. offering cutting edge, rapturous opuses, going just a little bit farther than other playhouses in Boston to give the audience something more, but this production of Paradise Lost, directed by Daniel Fish,  gave 3.5 long hours of dull dialog and confusing, shaky staging.  It was hard to really focus on any one character or story because it felt like the author just dumped a bucket of story lines on the floor and left the director to try to piece it together lyrically in a way that makes sense, and that keeps the audience engaged.

Fifteen minutes into an extremely dense and nonsensical opening act, both of the people sitting to my right were fast asleep.  They left after the first of two intermissions, along with about six other people around me.  I can’t really say that I blamed them- I could barely keep my eyes open myself.  I’m glad that I stuck it out though, because while the first act did drag considerably, the actors did help to liven up the story in the second and third acts, just barely keeping my attention.

There just wasn’t anything going on in the piece that I cared about.  The characters were underdeveloped and there were far too many to keep track of, though they all seemed to live in the same house even though that fact was unclear and didn’t ever get around to being explained.  As the story unraveled and we collected more tidbits about the characters and how they are related, I was less engaged and more annoyed that I had invested my mind into characters that I didn’t care about, respect, or understand.  On the heels of the spectacularly character driven Gatz, Paradise Lost was especially disappointing.

Despite my obvious criticism of the play choice, and the lack of what I consider to be a firm directorial standpoint, the actors and actresses worked their hardest to give their character’s life, some succeeding better than others.  I enjoyed the sharp tongue and good timing of Michael Rudko in his portrayal of Mr. Pike the furnace man, and T. Ryder Smith was very good as both the demonic Mr. May and younger son Julie (though it was sort of difficult for me to buy that he was the younger brother, he looks like he’s about twice the age of Hale Appleman who played his older brother, Ben).  Ryder had the great instincts of a veteran performer which made him extremely interesting to watch, even after the character’s personal tragedies limited his range of motion in the third act.  Sally Wingert also had some very nice moments as Clara, family matriarch.  In fact, she best embodied the physical and emotional characteristics of the time period.

Another thing that I found both puzzling and ultimately distracting, was the choice to include modern clothing and technology into the show.  While I understand that the audience was meant to see the parallel between the late 1930’s and today, I think we could have figured it out on our own without the Casio keyboard, the POD storage unit,  and the Enron t-shirt.

I wanted a lot more from Paradise Lost than I got.  The show did live up to its claim that it was a “bust”, though unfortunately I do not think it was in the way it was intended to.

Interesting projections made us see the cast in a different light- literally.

If you’re looking for one-of-a-kind theatrical experiences, the American Repertory Theatre is always happy to oblige.  I have had the pleasure of dozens of evenings at A.R.T.’s Loeb Drama Center, but never have I attended a production as epic as Elevator Repair Service’s Gatz.  This gargantuan six-hour piece is more than a word-for-word reading of one of America’s most beloved novels; it is a reexamination of what modern theatre can be for an audience.  Throughout the evening, the entire text of “The Great Gatsby” is read from cover to cover and no alternate or supplementary text is added. The company takes its time in allowing the story to develop organically. In four distinct acts, the audience is swept with a wave of nostalgia for the days when theatre was a whole day commitment and intermissions are long enough to have dinner and regroup.  From start to finish, Gatz is the longest theatrical performance I have ever seen, and Elevator Repair Service must be commended for their engaging, glamorous, treatment of Salinger’s greatest work.

Elevator Repair Service is a theater ensemble that builds original shows around a broad range of subject matter including literary, dramatic, and cinematic forms.  In Gatz, Scott Shepherd takes on the enormous responsibility of lead player.  Framed in the context of a cheap and grimy office, Shepherd picks up a copy of “The Great Gatsby” and starts to read it aloud to pass the time.  At first the distinction is clear- Shepherd is reading the book as anyone might, in simple monotone; he is a colorless drone in a dreary office.  But somehow, seamlessly, Shepherd becomes Nick, the novel’s protagonist.  Shepherd’s coworkers step up to assume the other characters in the story, first in pantomime, but then in earnest and to much delight of the audience.  The duality of office worker and novel character is like a fun mystery game.  Gary Wilmes is the first to join Shepherd in his indulgence as Tom.  He is charismatic and lecherous, bonding his “office persona” swiftly into his character treatment.  Wilmes re-imagines the character of Tom for Gatz.  Less the bumbling oafish man who cannot control his temper, and more an American “Joe” trying to do right in his life- it was actually a refreshing look at the character, and mirrored Jim Fletcher’s unique take on Gatsby- a less confident, more unfortunate reading of the novel’s namesake.  In fact, all the characters take on more realistic interpretations of the novel’s big and impassioned characters.  Jordan (Susie Sokol) is more vulnerable, less self-assured than I imagined her to be, Daisy (Victoria Vazquez) is a little less ruthless.  I appreciate how Elevator Repair Service breathed “human” life into the characters.  (I also noticed the actors playing Gatsby and Henry Gatz, his father, have the same last name- I am not sure if this is coincidence or if they are in fact father and son, but it is really fantastic to imagine that they are- it ads even more layers to their on-stage relationship!)

My only criticism of this production is that the rich universe created in the first half of the reading doesn’t quite manifest itself as well in the second half. I believe the audience is meant to understand that as Shepherd embodies the character of Nick more and more completely, the vestiges of the office fade away leaving him completely immersed in Gatsby’s world.  Unfortunately, this didn’t work for me as well as I might have hoped.  I kept waiting for small reminders that this space was still an office, that the book was still an escape from the reality of a stolid existence, but they never came. If fact, towards the end of the play the audience was being addressed directly as if we had been there all the time despite the fact that the fourth wall remained fairly in-tact for the earlier part of the show.  I would have loved to see the office metaphor being taken further into the second part of the play because there is something so satisfying about the combination of the novelist’s voice and the actor’s treatment existing right up against one another.  I missed it towards the end.

The ensemble is spectacular.  The huge amount of preparation for Gatz is nothing short of a miracle.  Shepherd has committed the entire book to memory, and the rest of the ensemble have taken their characters to heart in a deep way not often reached in modern theatre.  The six hours flew by, I could not believe it.  The only thing more intimidating than being an actor in a show of that length has to be being an audience member!  But it just isn’t an issue with this production.  If the length of the piece is a fear keeping you from attending, I implore you to forget about it and buy tickets.  You will be amazed at how quickly the time goes.  I suggest you take advantage of one of the A.R.T.’s dining options, or run across the street to The Upper Crust for a slice, because the break goes by quickly and the excellent A.R.T. staff is diligent about keeping the show running on time.

Shepherd reads. Photo: Mark Barton

William Shakespeare would have rolled over in his grave if he had heard last night’s performance of Best Of Both Worlds at the A.R.T.- but only to get his ear closer to the magnificent sound! In the true spirit of the long dead king of writers, Randy Weiner, Diedre Murray and Diane Paulus have re-imagined The Winter’s Tale for a modern era- touching the audience like never before.  Mellow jazz, smooth R & B, passionate gospel and playful hip-hop combine and intertwine to imbue a centuries old story with new spirit.

Gone is the familiar, painful to follow text and predictable action.  The cast fills the stage with color and sound and vitality to rival the flashiest of Broadway shows.  Just as King Chamberlin’s Men would have, the company of players of Best of Both Worlds, arrive on a bare set- in a purple Cadillac no less- and instantly transform it into their playing space. Cleavant Derricks, as our narrator, sets the scene for the audience, and his tongue is planted firmly in his cheek as he introduces two R&B “Kings”, Ezekiel (Gregg Baker) and Maurice (Darius de Haas) whose pride and stubbornness lead to extremely dramatic circumstances for Ezekiel’s beloved wife Serena (Jeannette Bayardelle), his children Mamillius (Sebastien Lucien) and Rain (Brianna Horne), and the entire kingdom of lives they touch along the way.  It is Shakespeare undone and redone again (you should see the exit pursued by a bear!)

The axiom and essence of The Winters Tale live on in this neoteric, musical treatment.  Baker as Ezekiel is mesmerizing.  It is almost impossible to take your eyes off of him when he’s singing.  With a voice that floats to the very top row of seats, his emotions are palpable- from rage to anguish. De Hass is the perfect counterpoint as Maurice, his voice so warm and supple that there was not one person breathing in the entire auditorium when he hit his high notes.  All this vocal power was matched by Bayardelle’s Serena and Mary Bond Davis’ portrayal of Violetta, Queen Mother of Ezekiel.  Bayardelle garnered the loudest applause of the night after her heart-rending plea for mercy at the end of act one.  She was as beautiful and ethereal as any queen I could conjure.  Davis as Violetta had the vocal power to rival the entire ensemble, and as the company’s matriarch she filled her roll with a grace and dignity that has been unmatched by any single female I have seen perform this season.  A strong ensemble of players round out the rest of the extraordinary cast.  Nikkieli DeMone’s powerful celebration of love in the second act was a crowd pleaser, and Horne and Lawrence Stallings (as Tariq) deliver a sensational ballad- but the real show stopper came from Lucien, whose solo tribute to his mother is so beautiful that it brought the audience to tears.  He was sophisticated and mature enough to hold his own in a cast of exceptional talent.

I was so moved to be a part of this night of theatre.  Looking around the packed house, their was an even more pronounced rainbow of faces in the crowd- and that is an exciting feeling for someone who sees an average of three shows a week, often with the same, stuffy, blue-haired set.  I felt privileged to get to share this event with a crowd that isn’t necessarily your typical A.R.T. patron.  The feeling in the air was arresting- a current of excitement that revived and rejuvenated the entire audience.  The night flew by- and there was no need for the company to illicit a standing ovation at the curtain, the audience was already standing, clapping, shouting, and in some cases, singing along.  It just felt good.  The A.R.T. has made its name by offering us unconventional theatrical productions, and Best of Both Worlds is more than just a feather in the A.R.T cap, it’s a crowning jewel. Bravo, Bravo!

Jeannette Bayardelle and Sebastian Lucien. Photo: Marcus Stern.

A marriage proposal. Photo: Marcus Stern.

“Are there going to be hula hoops?”

That was my companion’s hopeful, sotto voce inquiry as we were politely shuffled into the Loeb Drama Center on Wednesday evening.  I was pleased to tell him that I wasn’t sure what this production of Aurélia’s Oratorio had in store for us, but I knew it was going to be one of a kind.  I was devastated when I missed the first visit of Aurélia Thierrée and Jaime Martinez, the dramatic duo that breathed life into this piece earlier in the season, so when I heard that the drama-come-dance-production-come-circus-act was returning to the A.R.T., I was very pleased.

We didn’t see any hula hoops, but the variety and complexity of fantastical acrobatics was so impressive, believe me, you hardly missed them.  Conceptualized by Thierrée, along with her mother, Victoria Thierrée Chaplin, youngest daughter of famed actor-magician Charlie Chaplin, Aurélia’s Oratorio went beyond the world of reality into a fantastic world where nothing is as it seems.  With hardly a word spoken throughout, the movements and unique musical arrangements (Chaplin teamed up with Paolo Barucchi for the sound design, it was brilliant) told a complex story that was different for each audience member, but left everyone utterly speechless.  There are a fantastic variety of topics I could cover throughout the production- from the acrobatic work (wow!), to the beautiful dancing and costumes, but I am going to focus on what I found to be the most mesmerizing aspect of the production, the puppetry work.

Perhaps you might not know that I specialized in puppetry while doing my master’s degree work at Emerson, but since my very first class there (hoping to quell a life-long unreasonable fear of marionettes) I was hooked on the variety and intricacies in the world of puppetry.  Aurélia’s Oratorio used several facets of the puppetry world- shadow show, large scale-multiple operated puppets, Punch and Judy style hand puppets, and even “found object puppetry”.  Curtains, coats, scarves, and bells all took on human forms and transformed the audience’s view more magically than a cast of humans ever could.  Even the curtains themselves became puppets in an intricate mating dance that produced an adorable “baby curtain” later in the production (I’m not kidding, a few audience members even said, “awww”.) A stand-out puppetry scene was done as a dream sequence where layers of fabric, cardboard, glitter and gauze created a dream world where Aurélia was simultaneously frightened and comforted into sleep.  The puppetry work was seamless- each puppeteer was fully hidden and completely invested.  It felt exciting and at the same time eerie and surreal to see these huge creations of fabric come to life and interact with the characters on stage.

Another brilliant and exciting bit of puppetry work came later in the show, when Aurélia was kidnapped and attacked by an obsessed flock of hand puppets.  The puppeteers were really at their best here, totally obscured and yet able to portray an ominous evil that was truly unnerving (and made me doubt if I really was over my puppet phobia!)

The production, which runs for another week and a half, is appropriate for all ages, but don’t let that sway you into thinking it is a kid’s show.  The multi-layering of the piece makes it even more appropriate for adults, and I recommend it for any family looking for a way to dodge the ominous humidity that has been creeping over Beantown, of late.

This show is a great end cap for a fantastic season at the A.R.T.  Fall brings The Donkey Show, the kick off to a season of Shakespeare- I’m really looking forward to it!

Shadow Puppet Dream Sequence