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The Leeds Arts Council Presents Oliver!

Friday, July 23rd, 2010

“Consider yourself – one of the family!”

This is community theatre at its most enthusiastic and rockwellian.  If you visited Leeds, Alabama, you’d be in a place that Charles Dickens probably would’ve never guessed that his London-centric novel, Oliver Twist, would’ve been turned into a musical and performed.  “Located one block past Regions Bank the last building on the left next to Carl Ann’s Florist.”  Yep, really.  I can only hope that Carl Ann likes kids.  And has a tight grip on any wallet or handkerchief.

I sometimes complain that there isn’t much community feel in Birmingham.  Even though one of my friends suggested that we’re “the biggest small town in America.”  And of course you can generate this kind of feeling from personal involvement in various different groups or organizations.  But I don’t know if you can find much “we’re all in this together” kind of spirit generally.

And I often wish I had a more cohesive family as well.  All the way up through my grandparents, we’re about as independent as you can get.  We like space.  Yes, I admit that I like mine a lot of the time.  I’ve had several running conversations with friends about how much distance we like in relationships – everybody’s got a different taste for it.  For example, I think my parents were supportive of my talents and the things I wanted to do, but I absolutely can’t contemplate my Mom and/or Dad acting with me in musical theatre.

So I couldn’t help but notice that the cast of Oliver! – as produced by the Leeds Arts Council – was a family affair.  There were five members of one family: Emily Lunsford (Bet), Lucy Lunsford (Charley Bates/Boy), Joseph Lunsford (Boy), Margarita Lunsford (Mrs. Bedwin), and Michael Lunsford (Mr. Sowerberry).  Direct from Emily: “Most of my family have been acting together since 2000 and it has been such fun!”

Holy cow, I can’t even seriously begin to imagine.

But I’ll admit to being more than a little jealous.  My family was always more “check in with me once a month, okay, or maybe we can talk next year sometime?”  As long as everyone was off somewhere happily doing their own thing, everything was fine.  As a little kid, I’m sure I would have loved acting with my parents.  Somewhere along the way, being onstage with them would’ve become about as uncool as anything gets.  But add a pinch of maturity, an ounce of wisdom, a dash of experience, and those moments would become priceless.

Also related in the cast: Wendy Riley (Mrs. Sowerberry) and Grace Riley (the World’s Cutest “Boy”).  And Caitlin Cartwright (Rose Seller/Old Lady/Ensemble) and Rachel Cartwright (Milk Maid/Seller/Ensemble).  I bet they’ll hold this forever.

With all the kids in the cast, you just know there were parents running around in all kinds of other helpful ways.  It looks like at least two different fathers of young cast members acted as Stage Manger (Rick Beiswenger, Alec Beiswenger’s Dad, and Gary Chapman, Sadee Chapman’s Dad).  As Emily puts it, many moms and dads contributed as “child wranglers” with Barbie Baldone (good name!) credited as the head Parent Wrangler (and the Mama of a well-cast Oliver: Gabe Baldone).

So it’s definitely a family.  The thing about theatre is – so I hear – that, even if you weren’t family going in, you are coming out.  Seeing this kind of warm and charismatic performance makes me want to be involved – and isn’t that the point?

Thanks to Sandi Nicholson, Regina Arnold, and the Leeds Arts Council for not locking the door when they heard I might be visiting.  “Please Sir, I want some more.”

The Sound of Music by Red Mountain Theatre Company

Monday, July 19th, 2010

“Oh, of course you sing.  Everybody sings!”

I don’t exactly know why, but I’m usually pretty tough on lead actors.  If a show has a main character (or two), I’m maybe a little unforgiving.  Maybe it’s just because those shoes can be awfully big to fill.  It’s an important job.  Some soar, some flop.  But “pretty good” just won’t do when you gotta be Stanley Kowalski.

The Sound of Music offers some of theatre’s biggest shoes to fill.  Everybody’s seen the movie.  Plus, Julie Andrews.  I mean really – Julie Flippin’ Andrews.  There’s pretty much no girl hotter than Mary Poppins, is there?  Or does saying that make me weird?

Kristen Bowden Sharp and the children - how can you not smile watching someone jump on the bed?

Kristen Bowden Sharp & Children - How can you not smile watching someone jump on the bed?

In the Red Mountain Theatre Company’s production of The Sound of Music, there’s no danger of me talking bad about Kristen Bowden Sharp.  (Especially since I think I might’ve sat next to her Daddy…)  I already complimented her as “attentive and attractive” in an earlier piece.  It’s always fun to see the same actor in different roles because you get to see which personality parts change and which parts don’t.  The great voice is still there.  Plus, she brought a innate grace, elegance, and sweetness to each role.  If you’d asked me beforehand, I mightn’t have thought those qualities would’ve worked for a Maria that I normally think of as childlike, insouciant, and guileless.  But they did.  If you’re stuck with casting actors who are just like the original, more-famous version, it gets a bit creepy – like only dating people who look suspiciously like your ex.

As a complete digression, I keep wondering if the name “Maria Rainer” – The Sound of Music’s lead character – has anything to do with the poet, Rainer Maria Rilke?  I truly have no idea.  Any help?

Back to the “tough on leads” thing, I’ve often thought that it might be hard to find truly masculine leading men for theatre.  Especially for musical theatre?  George Dvorsky, as Captain von Trapp, works.  He’s stoic and military at first.  Then you get to watch as he becomes more warm, expressive, and personable.  His first smile of the evening is truly lovely.  But he’s always a significantly male and paternal presence.  Maybe it helps that he’s about a foot taller than this Maria, but she looks like she’s happily tipping straight back when it’s time to be kissed.

Even with all the talent of these leads and the cuteness of the von Trapp children, I gotta say that “Sixteen Going on Seventeen” stole the show.  When I take seven pages of notes, I can tell I like a performance.  Or sometimes if I’m too engaged in the show to take any.  But here are my verbatim notes on this song: “Sixteen on 17 – Easily one of the most adorable things I’ve seen on stage.  Liesl is great.  Good dance, good expressions – minus the lifts, out of character.  Deliciously awkward.  Really great.  He’s good too.  Rolf???  *expressive, expressive*  If you can’t shake your head CUTE, you have no business in theatre.

Liesl is Katie Wesler – a fellow Shades Valley alumni – and she’s terrific.  Pretty, expressive, and she sings, dances, acts, and interacts.  Even her pink dress was excellent.  And Rolf’s performance (Collin Janich) is worth noting and provides a strong foundation.  Their number was great and reflected the wavering confidence and awkwardness of being thiser-teen going on thater-teen.  She’s great the rest of the show, too.

The von Trapp children are precocious and cute and they all have at least one moment.  A nice feature of the Red Mountain Theatre Company blog is a chance to read about these kids.

Finally, the show was at the Virginia Samford Theatre and I asked at halftime whether I could switch my seat and try out the balcony.  When I take someone new to the VST, they often ask “Who gets to sit up there?” or “What’s up there?”  It must be a common question.  And now I know.  It’s the Charles D. McCrary Patrons’ Balcony.  It’s every bit as chilly as I’d heard.  They keep the spotlights up there.  It’s only one row of seats.  But the chairs are much larger and softer than the cramped seats in the main theatre.  It’s really a whole different perspective and it’s different to be able to see right down into the orchestra pit.  You’re at about eye level with the rest of the lights.  And it’s cool to see all the pink and yellow tape all over the stage – completely invisible from the ground level.  If they could talk, I wonder what stories those tape marks would tell.  Almost makes me want to sell my truck and donate a couple thousand dollars.

Thanks to Nicole Smith, the Red Mountain Theatre Company, and Kim Dean Davenport (I think…) for admitting me.  This show was great in almost every way.  I still wish they’d prominently feature some photographs or video on the RMTC website.

The Park Players Present Noises Off

Friday, July 9th, 2010

“That’s farce.  That’s theatre.  That’s life.”

Back in January, I was invited to observe auditions for the Park Players production of  Noises OffOnce again, it was terrific fun to see how it all came together.  They do a very good job.  One of the best parts of live theatre is that you never know how it’s going to go.  You can’t know where the laughs will come from.  And it’s very difficult to anticipate in advance the moments and the casting that’ll work.

You can’t even anticipate how it’ll look.  For example, the Set & Lighting Designer (Connor McVey) has put the famous connecting staircase on the right of the stage.  For those of you familiar with the movie version (and other versions, see here and here), it’s usually on the left.  But I found at least one link to another on the right.

Which brings up a cool thing about plays.  How much can you futz around with a script?  I’d never seen the stairs on the right before, but it doesn’t mean it’s wrong.  Likewise, I remember seeing at least one staged version with a big picture window right in the middle of the set.  With the glass I often get to see the offstage (onstage?) characters.  Without it, I’m allowed to use my imagination when I’m listening to out-of-view characters.  It works both ways.

Which reinforces yet another cool thing.  In Noises Off, one major point is that, in the theatre, there’s always at least as much action taking place off-stage as on-stage.  Actors with love triangles, marital problems, money troubles, side projects, you name it.  This is true of any play, I assume.  But if you’re in the audience, you’re unlikely to be much concerned about who any particular actress is in love with.  (Unless they’ve got E! Birmingham or something…)

Essentially in Noises Off, we’ve got <1> real people who have <2> lives as actors becoming <3> characters in a play who are acting as <4> characters in another play.  It’s all very mathematical, really.  A hall of mirrors.  Wheels within wheels.  Billions and billions.  Look at the three pictures: they’re caricatured characters, then charactered actors, then just actors.  Say cheese.

As a general rule, this play provides a big picture window that lets you in on the secret world of offstage action.  But it raised some further metaphysical and philosophical issues.  I wondered throughout: Do the members of the Park Players have any love triangles?  Marital problems?  Money troubles?  Side projects?  While we’re seeing Garry (Cris Morriss) chase Frederick (David Coker) around with an ax onstage, does one of the actors secretly wish they could do the same to anybody else onstage?  To the Director?  To me?  A hall of mirrors.  Wheels within wheels.

When Belinda (Amanda Kramer) knows scandalous information about Dotty (Beth Ashton) in the play, does she also know anything in real life?  Who knows what about whom?  Does it come out onstage?  Off?  And you know that Tim (Steven Ross) and Poppy (Rebecca Yeager) – working as behind-the-scenes crew in the play – may have had at least some hand in crewing the set in real life.  In fact there are always a mess of behind-the-scenes workers adding additional pizazz to the kaleidoscope.  Maybe they’re the ones chasing each other around with flowers or an ax?

Though there’s plenty of great, hilarious action onstage in this play, I also couldn’t help but think that there’s a whole other level of interaction and inside jokes that happen just beyond the audience’s view.  Right through where that big picture window might’ve been.  It’s fun to dream that maybe sometime in the later acts when Brooke (Hannah Wilkerson) runs offstage that she and Selsdon (Jesse Bates) have some sort of touchdown high-five fist-bump handshake they do, just to pass a little time before one of them has to scramble back onstage.  Or maybe other actors share some kind of casually choreographed moment or just a silly look just outside the lights.

A hall of mirrors.  Wheels within wheels.  No matter really, because it’s silly fun and you should see it.  It’s a good time whether or not you take an ounce of time to ponder it.

Thanks to Director Clay Boyce and the Park Players for offering me a chance to see the show.  Finally, did anyone know that there’s a Noises Off study guide?

Anne Frank and Me by StageDoor Youth Theatre Company

Friday, June 25th, 2010

Caroline Slupe & Heather Burgess

“You just have to follow their rules!”

(Well, actually, no you don’t.)

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.

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.