“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.
As proof that art is open to interpretation, one man in the audience behind me at the
On Thursday night, I went to see the
There are several things that Sanspointe does very well. When they’re at their best, the Sanspointe dancers look like they’re having a good time and effectively convey this to the audience. Even professional dancers often don’t do this well and can end up looking bored or disengaged. For whatever reason, the Sanspointe dancers almost always make it look like fun.
Occasionally, I can’t stick to just one theme. I’ve got show notes, memories, and impressions, but they can’t point me in one direction. So, for the performance of
(2) The program for Millie says “This is one of our largest productions in the last 10 years” – and I believe it. I think it’s been almost ten full years since I saw a play produced by Samford. So I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect. But this Millie had lavish sets, lots of costume changes, and a live orchestra. Whatever I was expecting, I got more – and that’s the way to do it. My views on