June, 2010

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Anne Frank and Me by StageDoor Youth Theatre Company

Friday, June 25th, 2010

Caroline Slupe & Heather Burgess

“You just have to follow their rules!”

Anyhoo, this production of Anne Frank and Me by the StageDoor Youth Theatre (at the Children’s Dance Foundation) shows – again – why arts education is important.

Generally speaking, the story is about Nicole Burns, a modern teenager. Nicole really couldn’t care less about Anne Frank, World War II, or the Holocaust. That is, until she has a sudden, cyclonic Wonderful Wizard of Oz experience and gets time-travel transported to Nazi-occupied Paris. And becomes a Jewish daughter in a Jewish family, reminiscent of Anne Frank.

Emily Donahue, Heather Burgess, & Susan Cook

Directed by Charla Cochran, the cast ranges in age from about ten (I guess) to adult. Remembering back, wasn’t that one of the coolest things about being involved with theatre? Though you spend most of your time in school with people in your same grade, isn’t it a blast to be around older kids and adults? And you’re all working on the same project and towards the same goal on essentially equal footing. Isn’t this the best way to learn how to be part of a group? And how to interact? And to feel around for boundaries and social norms? Drama is a good team sport for kids who won’t ever be football players.

Theatre is also a great education. Maybe I’m too experienced for StageDoor to shock me much when re-confronted with the horrors of World War II, but ages 10-18 is when you first start to notice that history even happened. Not that I really believed that it impacted my life then – other than getting passing grades. I would’ve been like Nicole, not really noticing or caring that people had lived before me, or might live on after I go. Teenagerdom = solipsism.

But there’s still lots to learn, well into adulthood. From my perspective, this play didn’t particularly increase any specific sympathies about Anne Frank or the Holocaust. But I kept thinking about the existence of the grand and terrible forces that can work against you and affect your life. In the middle of the twentieth century, it might have been the violent racism of the German Nazis. In 2010, maybe it’s global economic instability caused by avarice, overspeculation, and a lack of regulation. I’m a little fish. From my perspective, it might as well be the weather. But even if you’re entirely blameless, bad weather sure can ruin your day. Goodness knows, there’s no umbrella big enough to save you from the Nazis.

Finally, it’s one thing to read the Diary of Anne Frank. It’s another thing entirely to be forced to think about how you might act in similar circumstances. And to act it out on a stage in a way that involves the audience. If that’s not a good education – and something you just can’t get from a normal high-school class – I don’t know what is. I can’t imagine that anybody involved with this performance will forget their special relationship to 1940s Paris anytime soon.

Thanks again to StageDoor Youth Theatre and Children’s Dance Foundation. You can listen to a WBHM piece about the performance at this link. Also, check out other related links to a good article and video on a different performance by students at Adrian High School up in Michigan.

Posted in Birmingham, Theatre | Comments Off

Little Shop of Horrors (& Sanspointe Practice)

Friday, June 18th, 2010

“Believe it, baby. It talks.”

The Magic City Actors Theatre is currently putting on a very good performance of Little Shop of Horrors. And it made me figure out that I don’t know how to categorize a musical (or an opera, for that matter) on this blog. It obviously fits in my “Birmingham” section. And it’s obviously “Theatre”. But can it also be “Music”? Or do I have to reserve the category for things that are just music? Then there’s my troublesome “Dance” category. More on that in a minute.

There are different levels of music in theatre. When the Park Players did Much Ado About Nothing, there was some singing. And some dancing. But I wouldn’t have classified it as “Music” or “Dance”. But Little Shop of Horrors is a more straightforward musical. So it was mostly singing, though there was some speaking. And it had a five-piece orchestra. So it has to count as “Music”, right?

Here’s the philosophical question: How much music can a play have before it becomes a musical? Two songs? Four? Half and half? Or does it have to be mostly music? I don’t know.

And then, what if I broaden my definition of music? I have absolutely no doubt that a charismatic, powerful, and persuasive speaking voice has strong musical and melodic overtones. Actors know that. When I watched auditions, I was forced to admit to being surprised at how essential a good voice is for an actor. I’d think some study of singing – even if you’re not a “singer” – would be very helpful. Even, perhaps, if you’re in some other career where you talk to people during part of your day. It can’t hurt.

This Little Shop of Horrors cast offers several examples, but most notably, Kyle Holman as the dentist boyfriend is instantly brilliant and hilarious from the moment he appears onstage. He also shines as several other smaller characters. At least some part of his charisma comes from his vocal inflection and talent. Direct from his bio: Kyle “is a full time Voice Actor and has been featured in numerous radio and TV commercials and video games . . . .” Also, any production of Little Shop has to give the plant a personality, and one of the ways is to give it a big, memorable voice.

The Audrey II plant also has to move – which leads me to my next point. Yes, they do some actual choreography and dancing in Little Shop of Horrors, but a big part of the plant’s character and personality comes from the puppetry and planning of its movement. Making the mouth sync with the voice is part of the magic. It’s also got to feel sinister. This trick falls to Seymour (Edward “Dane” Peterson) when Audrey II is just a little bud, then to an actor/dancer inside the Audrey II (Dallas Taylor) once it gets bigger.

All of the other characters likewise have a distinct personality in their movement. You could “mute” the whole show, watch it in pantomime, and I think it would still be pretty entertaining. It’s got to be difficult for a seasoned performer/dancer to fill Seymour with such a sweet, nerdy clumsiness. Audrey (Tawny Stephens) has a prissy, feminine, and gentle movement and a wiggly, staccato walk that I’d really like to teach to all my future girlfriends. The urchins (Shekinah Lampkin, Cristi Strickland, and Ashley Guin) – spectacular as a group – are full of loose, streetwise attitude. Finally, the dentist moves in a way that you know he’s both unpredictable and full of menace. Chaotic evil.

So here’s my trouble. Since it’s got so much important, expressive movement, does this performance of Little Shop of Horrors qualify as “Dance”? I don’t know.

So I’ll tie it into something else. I got invited the other day to come watch Alabama School for the Fine Arts graduate Margi Cole work through some choreography with the Sanspointe Dance Company. She established a few ground rules for the dancers and then let ‘em pretty much improvise their own movement, subject to editing and tinkering. But even for something that’s pure dance, a lot of the fun comes from watching and discovering the character of a dancer – as expressed through their movement.

In other words, I think I could tell something about each dancer’s personality by watching them move. Especially considering they created a lot of their own motion. But I think you can still tell a lot about a dancer, even in something highly stylized like ballet. Isn’t that the whole point of dance? Expression – literally? So when Sanspointe dancers move, they’re moving to express personality or emotion of some sort. And when the Little Shop actors move, they’re also moving to express personality or emotion of some sort. And when I’m doing the pimp roll down Fifth Avenue, the point is expression.

So why isn’t everything “Dance”? It is, isn’t it? Or – to flip it around – why isn’t dance an essential skill to learn (or to teach our children), once you start to think of it as expressing personality and emotion through movement? It’s very important both to be able to move in a way that is an accurate reflection of yourself and also to be able to accurately read others’ movement. I might put that up there with essential life skills. At the very least, actors should study a little dance – and dancers could probably benefit from studying a little theatre.

So that’s that – everything’s dance. And music. And art. But we gotta draw lines somewhere.

Thanks to Natalie Valentine and the Magic City Actors Theatre for putting on a “Birmingham”, “Music”, “Theatre” experience and to the Sanspointe Dance Company for giving me a “Birmingham”, “Dance” experience.

Posted in Birmingham, Dance, Music, Theatre | Comments Off

Shakespeare’s R & J by Theatre Downtown

Friday, June 4th, 2010

Roger Ebert: “It is more exciting to wonder if you are about to be kissed than it is to be kissed.”

This theory gains new credibility with the current Theatre Downtown production of Shakespeare’s R&J. The play is a re-write of Romeo and Juliet using only four young, male actors. Everybody knows, of course, that theatres in Shakespeare’s day always cross-dressed men to play the female parts. But this kind of casting takes on a special relevance in 2010. There’s no cross-dressing here – only the audience’s suspension of disbelief. Walking into this performance carries an atmosphere of tension and excitement. You can’t help but wonder whether the boys will kiss. And whether the Alabama Bureau of Investigation will bust in and raid the place.

Former Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court, Earl Warren: “Everything I did in my life that was worthwhile I caught hell for.”

Being an artist requires courage. There’s a certain amount of bravery in telling your parents or friends that you want to be an actor, musician, or painter. (Or: “Mom & Dad, I’m gay….”) It’s bold for a company to choose an all-male Romeo and Juliet in Alabama – possibly the reddest of red states. It takes some guts to put yourself so out there as a writer, actor, or artist. I can only imagine the conversation: I’m going to cast you as Juliet, are you okay with that? But how else does a guy ever get to say, “Parting is such sweet sorrow”? Opening up and embracing vulnerability makes a person stronger.

Eugene O’Neill: “One should either be sad or joyful. Contentment is a warm sty for eaters and sleepers.”

Director J.J. Marrs asks all four actors to play multiple roles. Each actor maybe had a “best” role. Michael Walters is a thoughtful, but masculine Romeo. Trevor Clay is tender and feminine as Juliet, downplays beautifully, and creates one of the best Juliet suicides I’ve seen. Cody Royce Moore plays a particularly good Friar, but is also a contagiously energetic Mercutio. Finally, Brett Matthew Blaylock throws himself wholeheartedly into a lot of silly laughs as Juliet’s Nurse. The production takes full advantage of the cast’s youthful vigor, raw nerves, and undiluted energy.

Why is theater better than the movies? Because of the real dramatic tension. It happens right in front of you. For example, there’s a bunch of choreographed roughhousing in this play. At intermission, the whole front row talked about how we kept expecting an actor to land in our laps. Or worried that one of the props would topple over. But this isn’t a bug – it’s a feature. Because it’s happening right in front of you, it triggers a different part of your brain. You’re involved in a way that you can’t be when you just watch a movie. The kissing isn’t take twenty-three, either. And there’s always the real possibility that someone will mess up.

Thanks to Billy Ray Brewton and Theatre Downtown for the invitation. If there are any show photographs or PR pictures in the works, let me know and I’ll put them up.