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Red Mountain Theatre Company Presents Cabaret

Wednesday, September 22nd, 2010

“You mustn’t ever ask me questions.  If I want to tell you anything, I will.”

All I know is that any event involving fishnet stockings is instantly better:

It’s also instantly better when the dancers come out before the show and stretch – precociously – in the front of the house.  Or help to condiment your bratwurst before the show.  (Sunday evening at Red Mountain Theatre Company included a drink and light dinner, accessorized by the sultry Kit Kat dancers – a great touch.)  Outrageously distracting and a great way to skip everything out of the frame.  It’s hard to take notes with all those provocative girls hovering around.  I’m just glad I wasn’t on a first date.  I can’t imagine this sort of mischief happening over at the Alabama Ballet.  Two groups that are two different kinds of sexy.

“This is totally crazy – that’s why I thought you might go for it!”

The thing about Cabaret is that, when you look a little closer, the dancers are revealed to be a little more tired, more haggard, and more destitute.  Either that, or more menacing, ominous, and corrupt; the dancers are always watching from the sidelines in a sinister and threatening way.  As so often happens, something that looks amazing at first turns out to have more than a few chinks in the armor.  Things are never what they seem, and these characters get more faded and drained as the performance continues.  After a while, even the fishnets can’t cover it up.  This transformation reminds me of that “Ooh La La” song in Rushmore (by Faces):

Poor old Granddad,
I laughed at all his words
I thought he was a bitter man
He spoke of women’s ways
They’ll trap you then they’ll use you
Before you even know
For love is blind and you’re far too kind
Don’t ever let it show

The can-can’s such a pretty show
Will steal your heart away
But backstage back on earth again
The dressing rooms are grey
They come on strong and it ain’t too long
‘Fore they make you feel a man
But love is blind and you soon will find
You’re just a boy again

When you want her lips, you get her cheek
Makes you wonder where you are
If you want some more then she’s fast asleep
Leaves you twinkling with the stars…

I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was younger
I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was stronger

The Emcee (DaWoyne Alexander) may be one of my favorite characters in all of theatre.  He does a great job of being infectiously fun and worryingly malevolent all at once.  Sally Bowles (Ashley Wieronski) has a similar divide.  We’re asked to both like her yet realize exactly how much trouble she’s going to be.  Wieronski has a talented singing voice and has an excellent, careless, Daisy Buchanan moment, slinging her gin all over the floor while she talks.  On the other hand, Herr Schultz (Jesse Bates) had no menace in him at all and I can confidently single him out as tender, sweet, and practically perfect.  The American writer, Cliff (Joel Walker), does well at the tough job of playing likeable, but not quite memorable – a wallflower in the flamboyant world of the Kit Kat club.

It’s fun to turn around to check out the audience during a show and find them pretty much all smiles.  There’ s not much of a bigger compliment I could give.  Everyone’s already happy and awaiting their chance to grow those smiles even bigger.  A full house of satisfied customers.

Thank you to Nicole Smith and Red Mountain Theatre Company for letting me in to see a great show.

Posted in Birmingham, Dance, Music, 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.

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Spring Dances by Southern Danceworks

Wednesday, May 26th, 2010

As proof that art is open to interpretation, one man in the audience behind me at the Southern Danceworks performance (Spring Dances) commented at halftime how much he preferred the first piece (Quips and Cranks) to the second (Make Like a Tree).  That was just moments after I wrote down that I preferred the second to the first.

I am just one guy.  And I fully admit that I know next-to-nothing about dance.  But I am trying my best to try.  Because I recognize that when it’s good, it can be extremely worthwhile.

Maybe I only thought I preferred the second because I was so drawn in by the excellent and engaging live music of the first piece (by violinist Karen Bentley Pollick and percussionist John Scalici).  Attention dance world: Live music makes everything better.  It would be true even if the music hadn’t been excellent.  Hire struggling piano players.  Amateur guitarists.  Surely there are plenty of musicians who are competent, would work cheapish or free, and would love an opportunity to collaborate with a bunch of dancers.  Any dance performance I’ve seen with live music has been preferable to just about any with canned music.  I’d have to guess, too, that the dancers like it better.

For me, the same pattern held true after intermission.  I’d say I enjoyed the fourth piece (Distinct Destiny With an Open Fist) more than the third piece (Quixotic).  But my hunch is that the man behind me would’ve preferred the third to the fourth.  Who can tell?

The point is that I’m no expert.  I’m just a dude with a keyboard.  I enjoy getting out to see stuff.  And I’m not too shy to write about it.  Everybody else’s thoughts are just as important as mine.  I love hearing the wide range of opinions.  And at the same time, I’m always amazed that these same people, with all these varied opinions, all seem to intuitively know when they’ve seen something amazing.

What I miss is having somebody else to discuss these shows with.  Sometimes this just means taking a friend with me.  But sometimes it means running into a friend in another venue, mentioning Southern Danceworks, and having that person say, “Yeah, I saw them too.”  Or talking to someone else who had a similar wow experience about Susanna Phillips at Opera Birmingham.  Which is the kind of moment that – repeated over time – takes a limited, personal experience and alchemizes it into culture.

Think about that.  No one knows my music.  But if a thousand people included it in a conversation next month, I’d become culture.  For years, The Mountain Goats were under the radar, but now they’re culture.  (Kind-of.)  Bo Bice 2004?  Limited.  Bo Bice 2006?  Culture.  So You Think You Can Dance?  Culture.

Which is one reason I push for bigger, fuller audiences.  For goodness sakes, if you’ve got a good product, don’t be afraid to give away tickets.  Especially if you know you’re going to have empty seats.  Don’t play to an empty room.  One of my favorite books is Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer and a good quote from it is: “What’s the point of giving an extremely subtle performance if basically no one is watching?”  It’s not enough for an arts organization to get grants and find corporate sponsors without spending equal time cultivating its audience.  The audience – culture – is the whole point.  What would the point be of failing to gather a crowd for Svetlana Zakharova?

Back to this performance… I thought the dancers did very well (Gauen Alexander, David Bauser, Jon Caspian, Lisa Gibbs, Jordan Mercer, Chinatsu Owada, Mary Margaret Scalici, and Roger Van Fleteren) and deserve praise for clearly working their toes off, though the choreography in these four pieces rarely singled out any dancer in particular.

Thanks to Gauen Alexander and the rest of the Southern Danceworks crew for the invitation.

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Primary Subject by Sanspointe Dance Company

Monday, May 17th, 2010

On Thursday night, I went to see the Sanspointe Dance Company for the third time.  This performance was “Primary Subject” and featured six new pieces.  My favorites were “Measuring the Marigolds” (choreographed by Taryn Lavery and performed by Shellie Chambers, Noel Pollard, and Anna Walker) and “I made something for you” (created and performed by Rhea Speights and Justin Wallace).

I have a theory that all art can be analyzed as an amalgam of three things: an idea, execution of that idea, and charisma/personality.  But these things don’t interact with any easy mathematical precision.  If there’s a genius idea, you might not really need much execution or charm.  Similarly, a mediocre idea might can be turned into something worth seeing just through brilliant execution and high-wattage charisma.  If a girl’s got enough charisma, I might could watch her just stand there for half-an-hour.  But when you’ve got all three, you’ve got yourself a winner.

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.

I’ve said a lot that I love to see and hear dancers panting, sweating, and out-of-breath.  The cozy quarters of the Children’s Dance Foundation are ideal for that.  Being this close to your performers lets you see how thoroughly they’re enjoying themselves and the simple and intrinsic joy of movement.

Likewise, the choreography for Sanspointe can be gleefully fun.  I’ve laughed out loud at all three of the shows.  Which I assume is unusual for dance.  Maybe I’ve just got bad manners.  Or maybe I’m the only one who thinks it’s all so funny.  But I can’t help but think that the Sanspointe choreographers had humor in mind when they created certain moves or certain dances.

I’m sure there are as many different choreography styles as there are people.  Accordingly, the Sanspointe playfulness comes in many different flavors.  It might be spending several minutes between pieces preparing an aerial swing for “Deluge” – establishing the dramatic arc and tension for the audience – and then, after the music starts, refusing for the first few minutes to let the performer touch it in any meaningful way.  Or the good-natured act of putting a swing onstage in the first place.  It might be cursing the dancers with an “evil” hand in “Mind Over Me” – like Evil Dead 2 – to pass around and react to.  It might be making me focus on the dancers’ blue socks/shoes in “Measuring the Marigolds”.  And, of course, the obvious and laugh-out-loud humor of vibraphonist-dancer interaction in “I made something for you”.  Rhea Speights – a possible nominee for coolest person in town.

Also, some of the ideas were clear and good.  There was a place in “There was Morning and Evening, Another Day” where there was one dancer onstage with three chairs and I could follow the artistic idea of “How many ways can one dancer move with three chairs?”  Or in “Deluge”: “How can a dancer play with a swing – without swinging?”  Or in “I made something for you” when I grasped the idea, “What if the dancer interrupts and brats up the musician?”  These are themes – and an audience needs one to be able to follow along.  When it’s not going well, it’s usually because I don’t understand what’s happening, why it’s happening, and why I don’t get it.

As long as Sanspointe follows the general format of idea (give your audience a theme), execution (provide a few flashy, “hook-y”, or interesting moves), and personality (look like you’re having fun in a way that remembers and engages the audience), I’m always open to seeing modern dance.  It only starts to lose me when there’s a bunch of dance-y dance happening without an obvious or coherent idea involved.  Or if there’s movement that starts to look similar, but without repeating anything in a way that provides a coherent theme.  Or if the dancers look bored or flat.  As an aside, I may be uncivilized, but I have an easier time appreciating dance that’s backed by a strong, organized beat (mum (or Star Dot Star?)) over something more noisy and dissonant (Kronos Quartet).  When they’ve got the good mojo going, there’s nothing stopping me from recommending Sanspointe shows to just about anybody.

Thank you very much to Shellie Chambers and the women of Sanspointe for inviting me and for striving to create new and cool art.

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Thoroughly Modern Millie by Samford School of the Arts

Monday, May 3rd, 2010

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 Thoroughly Modern Millie by the Samford University School of the Arts, I’ve got several little things to say, rather than aiming for one big one.

(1) The performance was sponsored in honor of Jesse Bates – who directed me for at least one play back when I was in high school.  I vividly remember being about 16 and on stage rehearsing a monologue.   I hadn’t learned my lines (or at least I wasn’t confident I knew them) and I squabbled with Mr. Bates about it until he made me hurl my script across the room.  Whatever the argument, I’m sure he was right.  He’s also probably at least partly responsible for this blog, so thanks from me too, Mr. Bates.

(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 Theatre UAB are already in writing, but I think there may be a competition brewing.  How about getting these two groups together for a competitive-ish Festival of Ten-Minute Plays next fall?

(3) Speaking of getting more than you expected, there seems to be a lot of talent at Samford.  All of the performers in principal roles were at least good.  Chelsea Reynolds (as Millie Dillmount) deserves praise if just for being on stage almost every minute of every scene and keeping all that energy going the right direction.  Maggie Taylor (as Dorothy Brown) has a great voice and conveys a lot of subtle charm through mannerisms, squeaks, and gasps.  Hannah Seymour channels some Kristen Chenoweth in putting together an over-the-top and completely memorable Mrs. Meers (“So sad to be arr arone in the world….”).  Finally, Jordan Bondurant (as Jimmy Smith) might have been my favorite cast member.  Props to Mark Castle as Director.

(4) There were numerous photogenic moments.  That is, times when the actors (and/or chorus), lighting, costuming, and set all came together to blend into a pretty picture.  I wish directors would take note of these moments in advance, plan for them, and have someone intentionally take pictures – completely posed and not during a rehearsal – before the first performance.  Then make them available to the public.  This kind of photograph might be a great way to both sell and remember the show.

(5) The program also credits Roger Van Fleteren of the Alabama Ballet as guest choreographer.  A good choice, as I assume he’s responsible for what might have been my favorite moment of the night.  There’s a great duet between Maggie Taylor and Harrison Chambers (as Trevor Graydon) which I think was “Ah! Sweet Mystery of Life/Falling in Love with Someone”.  I’ve got almost no dance background, but I think – in the space of about two minutes – Roger combined several diverse styles and elements of dance.  I counted at least a tango, a lift, and a cool swingaround-of-some-sort, but I’m sure there were more.  I don’t know if these two had much (or any) dance experience before this, but now they definitely do.  Bravo.

(6) Another favorite was the idea of using the small, lowered screen – normally for opera subtitles – to translate the fake chinese spoken by actors Cody Hayes and Steven Rice for the audience.  These translations were so funny that the audience started laughing at first sight of the screen getting lowered.

(7) I couldn’t help but think it would’ve been cool for Shara Lewis (as Muzzy) to perform her songs as a burlesque fan dancer, but maybe that’d be a little much for a Samford production.  In that same vein, I got a kick out of a bunch of college kids doing the drinking and jail scenes.

(8) I’m not sure how they did it, but I wasn’t expecting as full of a crowd on Saturday night.  And a mess of students, I think.  I wonder how this show was advertised and sold.  If I got a birthday wish (Wednesday!), I’d make sure we all did whatever possible (even give ‘em away) to make sure there weren’t ever empty seats.

(9) All shows are definitely better with live music.  But, as I’ve said before, adding microphones doesn’t necessarily improve a show unless they’re flawless and don’t distract.  Why not just sing and speak louder?

(10) For more information, check out this article written by Tully Taylor (great name!) in The Samford Crimson.

Thanks to Lisa Gibbs and the Samford School of the Arts for letting me do a piece on their show.

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

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