I ventured out to San Geronimo in West Marin today to catch the San Francisco Mime Troupe‘s preview of their new production 2012: The Musical. I could call this show #331/2 or #34… I’ll go with #34.

To my surprise, this was quite literally a preview, and came to an abrupt stop about 3/4 of the way into the story. I will respect the Mime Troupe’s creativity and confidentiality, and not offer public comment, where they don’t officially open until July 4. In the journalistic world, it is considered offensive to offer reviews before a show officially opens to the wider world.

I enjoyed the experience of this show, with the strong community flair at the San Geronimo Valley Community Center, and the Mime Troupe’s tight attention to detail and social commentary. The audience modeled three Hs: happy, hearty and hippie. I look forward to seeing …the rest of the story … at some point this summer.

Last night’s show (#33) has vaulted to the top of my list of top shows for the year. I don’t like to make lists of favorites in a business that should value collaboration more than competition. In this case, I am sure that I’ll remember this production throughout the rest of this year. I knew it would be memorable from the start, where Anna Deavere Smith has such a strong and distinguished reputation for her documentary theatre work. This was the first time I had seen her perform live, after being familiar with her film and television work for a long time – going all the way back to the movie Dave in 1993. Because of this long knowledge, I found the show initially to be a slighly cathartic experience reminiscent of the first time I saw childhood favorite musician Carly Simon perform live in Boston in 2005. (I soon settled down.) I was also rewarded with a front row seat to the performance, a likely happy byproduct of identifying myself as an under 30 theatergoer. I remember a similar arrangement when I saw The Lieutenant of Inishmore at Berkeley Rep just over two years ago. I’d chosen this particular night to attend the show as Berkeley Rep was hosting its monthly “30 Below” post-show party in the courtyard following their performance. This led to an intriguing photograph of their wall projection as I left for the evening…

It goes without saying that Smith doesn’t let anyone down easy, in the basic sense of the term. What intrigued me was how Smith became the conduit for each individual voice to come through. She interviewed between 10 and 20 people for the project – I’m not sure if everyone she spoke with was included in the show. Following the initial “recruitment” process, Smith reviewed any tapes, notes, etc that she made in the interviews. It was clear that she soon followed this with a meticulous physical and vocal training to embody any and/or all characteristics of the subject. In the final product, this method created a haunting vitality and lucid directness to each character – coupled with the knowledge that everyone is a real person. No fiction and no fooling. Smith also poignantly included at least two individuals and celebrities, Ann Richards and Joel Siegel, who have since died from cancer complications. She added a family touch, including her aunt in Baltimore in one segment. All of the interviews structured themselves around some minor to major health care issue that had affected the subject or continued to challenge them.

The theatrics of the piece were never lost and always present. Smith carefully moved from one subject to the next, signifying a transition with a brief jazz interlude and sometimes a costume change. As I noted above, her vocal shifts were striking, ranging from the deep inflictions of Harvard minister Peter Gomes (whom I met once and didn’t know had recently died until Googling him just now…) to the twanged inflictions of an Oklahoma/heartland truck driver. Sometimes Smith engaged other media to tell the story, as with two instances when onstage video cameras swung into action (while she faced away from the house), instead of her projecting directly to the audience. She inventively used props throughout the show, including real, fresh, food, and offered a complimentary beer to the couple sitting next to me as part of one story.

Clearly I could go on about this show in further detail. What I most appreciated is its total freshness and topicality: the stories stayed vivid in my mind as I sailed back over the Richmond Bridge home to Marin at 11pm last night… and will continue to linger. It demonstrates a true power of theatre and social change that I always embrace, using stories and artistic media to tie directly to the present moment.

I returned to Marin Theatre Company (MTC) last night for their season closer and my 32nd seen show for this year, Tiny Alice, by Edward Albee. Albee is notorious for exerting strong control over productions of his material, and I’m sure this show was no exception to that rule. In fact, this script may be where his desire for artistic management began, right here in San Francisco. The dramaturgical notes revealed extensive details about an ACT production of the play which made extensive cuts and revisions, to the great ire of Albee. Tiny Alice has also not been seen here in the Bay Area since that production in 1975. As a consequence, ACT did not produce an Albee script again until the mid 2000’s, and Tiny Alice gained a certain cult status, seemingly becoming an “untouchable” of the theatre world. This was not the case for MTC’s artistic director Jasson Minnadakis, who described an “obsession” (I thought that was a surprisingly strong word choice) with this script over a 20 year period. He claimed to be waiting for the perfect combination of cast, crew and theatrical setting to stage it himself. And for the most part, the team at MTC has succeeded with this revival. Last night’s audience, about a 3/4 full house, seemed to be thoroughly devouring the material, with two people standing up in their seats at the end and several local theatre industry folk visible to me within the audience.

The play is constructed like an elaborate jigsaw puzzle, and just when you think the material is all set in its perfect picture, someone (Albee) shakes it up again. This quality was particularly apparent in the first scene, a confusing and seemingly nonsensical interaction between two supporting characters. The second scene began to lay out the storyline, introducing the main character, a lay brother named Julian. We never truly find out why he has been summoned to “Miss” Alice’s home, a wealthy benefactor of his church. But various circumstances, some instigated by Alice and some not, combine to ensure that Julian remains in the house for quite some time. Supernatural elements gain prominence and symbolism, whether it is a fire that reveals itself through an onstage house model or an increased blurring of lines between reality and religious potency.

The play is presented in three acts, and while I was riveted and compelled for most of the production, there were several later instances where I felt the writing could have been tighter. In particular, the climax of the play goes on far too long and might have been more intriguing if it was presented in a “quieter” – and more intense – form. The third act on the whole seemed to repeat itself (from act 2) and not really advance the story.

Characterizations were suitably and memorably layered among the five person local cast. Actors Carrie Paff and Andrew Hurteau sharply etched the leading roles of Alice and Julian, with Hurteau in particular adding clear range to his performance within the initial character arc. Among the three supporting players, Mark Anderson Phillips stood out with an impish portrayal of Alice’s butler, who may have more to offer than it seems.

I can’t forget about the incredible set design, easily the best use of the MTC Lieberman Stage that I have ever seen. The set opened and closed as the story progressed, to denote different areas of Alice’s home. The model of the house (which can be seen here on MTC’s site) was extraordinarily large and vivid. Use of original music to transition between scenes added an evocative Masterpiece Theatre-ish flair to the story that I appreciated.

With this show, more than ever, MTC continues its manifesto of “Provocative Plays by Passionate Playwrights“.

I spent most of the month of May on intensive wilderness retreats, one focused on wilderness living and survival, the other on contemplative Buddhist meditation practice.

Of course, both were light years away from the theatre world.

Now I am settling back into my regular arts-centric Bay Area life and noticing with interest how the sensation feels very different. It doesn’t exactly feel like a chore to go back to theatre work and theatre going, but it does feel like a sharp turn. I didn’t exactly feel this effect when going in to the retreat mode.

I’d be curious if this process affects others who may go away from the industry for a while. It’s almost indescribable, I’m sure the moment will pass, but at present it feels like it (going back into my theatre life) has a very tangible physical effort. I see how I and others get wrapped up in the routine and certain ways of life, and returning to those same processes after time away makes it take on differing qualities than before.

I’ll have to check in to this felt sense next week and see what it feels like then.

Show #30 saw me return to Ross Valley Players, my former neighborhood theatre and a longtime stalwart of the North Bay theatre community. The company claims to be the oldest continually operating theatre west of the Mississippi River. They have a dedicated and consistent output of productions, spanning the range from classics to crowd pleasers to more offbeat dramas. This production falls somewhere in between the dramatic and crowd pleasing, where RABBIT HOLE has become a familiar title. The publicity for this show strikes the right note, acknowledging the film and Pulitzer Prize, but not dwelling on it. If they did, there would be large shoes to fill.

It was appealing to see this drama taken back to reality after the high-voltage Hollywood adaptation from this past holiday season. Nicole Kidman, Aaron Eckhart and Dianne Wiest had the leading roles in that production. Here at RVP, the main pair was refreshingly local and backed up by equally venerable talent. As is natural with the first preview, the production is still finding its footing, especially now transitioning to incorporating the role of the audience. A few scenes seemed to be in the process of finding their pacing, as I’m sure the humor and pathos balancing act will also adjust.

I took notice of technical elements in this show more than I have in previous visits to RVP. The costume choices seemed especially splashy and thoughtfully chosen. Lighting was literally spot on in points and did a considerate job of delineating specific areas of the stage. Sound transitions were appropriately somber yet melodious. That same sound became muffled by frequent audience applause after each scene, which is an occasional situation based on the crowd that I have never been able to understand. Direction was thoughtful, with just enough emphasis placed on the emotionality of the story without it becoming overly maudlin. As I overheard one audience member say at the end, “I’m glad they had humor“. Local actress Floriana Alessandria provided most of the comic touches as the lead character’s sister.

This piece is very much a slice of life play. Its themes of loss and the process of understanding life show the reasons why it has been admired by many audiences since its premiere in 2006.

This may be my fastest turnaround yet for a show commentary, but I am trying to keep the pace as I see two more shows tonight and tomorrow before going on hiatus for a while.

My 29th show seen this year was Two Sisters and a Piano, currently receiving a Bay Area premiere at my “hometown” theatre, Alternative Theatre Ensemble. The play is directed by my friend and local mentor Ann Brebner, and is just settling in to its run, due to continue through May 29.
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The playwright, Nilo Cruz, became well known for his Pulitzer Prize winning Anna in the Tropics, which I saw in its UK/European premiere at the Hampstead Theatre in London in 2004. I will always remember that evening, as it was when I met my favorite British actress Diana Rigg, who just happened to be in the audience supporting her daughter, Rachael Stirling, performing in the leading role. I remember that I wrote about that experience in my (still online) former primary blog, so I will quote from it (in an entry written on November 27, 2004) here:

Am still on a high from meeting Diana Rigg this evening. She is by far my favorite British actress and getting to meet her in person, even though it was just a brief conversation, is the icing on the cake for the whole experience here. Her daughter Rachel Stirling had a starring role in the second show I saw today called Anna and the Tropics and she clearly inherited her mother’s strong stage presence, easily rising above the material that was already dramatically rich. Earlier today I’d had a feeling that Diana might attend the performance…was surprised that turned out to be correct! She was sitting just two rows ahead of me in the theatre and I recognized her instantly, although the rest of the people sitting nearby were either being blissfully ignorant or courteous of her, so I followed their example even though I really wanted to say something of admiration as I walked out for the intermission right behind her. Once the show ended it became a “now or never” moment. I went out again only a few feet behind her but then she sat down in the foyer, probably to wait to congratulate her daughter. So I went ahead but was thinking “should I or shouldn’t I?”, having heard via the Avengers.TV forum that she sometimes prefers privacy over recognition. But once I saw an older woman go up to cordially greet her and Diana receiving her very warmly, that sealed it. I went back over to her table and kept it simple, saying “your daughter was excellent. I love your work.” (That’s all there is to say, really.) She seemed genuinely appreciative, giving me a warm smile and saying “thank you” in a friendly theatrical tone to me that gave a sense of her stage experience even through voice. It was enough to send me running to the bus stop (and I could have gone on down the street home) with a huge smile.
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Back to San Rafael in 2011…

Two Sisters and a Piano is a local reunion of sorts, as three of the four actors (Jeanette Harrison – company co-founder, Dawn Scott, and Matt Jones; bios all here) appeared in Alter’s fall production of Intimate Apparel by Lynn Nottage, also directed by Ann Brebner. This time, a wide and spacious performance location at 888 Fourth Street serves the story well. I was reminded thematically of Sonia Flew which I saw at the very beginning of this year and felt that the two titles might function well as companion pieces or a double bill.

Harrison and Scott deliver passionate and complimentary, well nuanced performances as two sisters under house arrest in 1991 Cuba. The world is changing around them, as the Soviet Union disintegrates and other uprisings occur on a global scale. (There are clear parallels to the events of today’s modern times…) In spite of this, the sisters are only able to decipher outside events through the views from their rooftop garden. They are offered tantalizing opportunities to see what’s going on around them – primarily through a shifty military man, but also through a piano tuner man who both interact with them. The confinement and mental insecurity of being under arrest is well conveyed through staging and the contrasting feelings of optimism and desperation.

The use of music in several scenes as transitions and enhancements gives the play a cinematic and sweeping quality. In the audience, I felt myself pausing for contemplation at these moments, whether the characters were doing something on stage or the scene was changing. It gave a real sense of the passage of time and what can be done to the story. The play does not conclude on quite the optimistic note that I expected – which is fine, even refreshing. The story is not tied up neatly and it is up to the audience to ultimately make the final determinations. At the same time, there is a feeling of a real slice of life, getting an authentic sense of what the period offered and how it may link to today. There is a haunting, thoughtful quality to the story that lingered in my mind walking out of the theatre.

It can be hard at times to think critically about a show where I/you/anyone knows members of the cast. That thought returned to my mind last night when back at the College of Marin (COM) for their season closer. In this case, I know two members of the cast who happened to have the two leading roles. I also know the stage manager and set designer. I’m sure this dual relationship can be a conundrum for professional critics, when and if they know anyone involved with a production.

In this case, my pre-existing connection didn’t really bother my opinion of the show. It may have unconsciously enhanced my impressions, where I was especially pleased to see my friends in leading parts. I also noticed how the play, set in a London flat, was an appropriate choice for Royal Wedding Day. (I was also sporting my London “MIND THE GAP” t-shirt during the day.) I see upon looking up background of the play that the original 1965 production featured Derek Jacobi, Maggie Smith and Albert Finney in leading roles.

I appreciated how the show plays with theatrical convention, opening in complete darkness and then bringing on the lights only after a few minutes of dialogue. It presents a skillful acting and staging challenge in that the lights are supposed to be out, onstage, so the actors have to perform as if they can’t see anyone else. This works to their advantage when another character enters halfway through the play and proceeds to steal the focus of the plot away to her. The plight of the main character becomes especially notable, or even reputable, when his deception and double crossing emerges later in the show.

I often notice how COM chooses to spotlight local non-college age actors alongside their student performers. This was true again in this show. In particular, the role of “Miss Furnival” offered actress Marilyn Hughes several opportunities to carry the plot and be appreciated. It might have been interesting to see the dramaturgy work for this show and how we look at “historical” 1960’s London now in the present day. I’m fully aware that the past becomes glamorized, while the reality may be more mundane. In some ways, director Jeffrey Bihr’s staging played off that knowledge… the audience could see some of what went on, on and offstage, light and dark, but wasn’t completely told the whole story.

I saw two shows in quick succession last week, and was distracted from writing them up by a family visit. I would have seen a third show a few days later, but had to cancel that plan when my car developed technical problems and I had to stay local within Marin.

Show #21 took me, my mom, and many theatre friends to the 142 Throckmorton Theatre in Mill Valley. Nigel Richards, a friend of a friend, recently visited Marin from his home base in London, England. My good friend (and his close friend) Molly Noble produced the event. I’d helped Molly a little bit with the pre-show publicity, and was somewhat uncertain how strongly attended the evening would be. 142 Throckmorton offers a very wide range of performances and subjects (comedy, theatre, music…) on any given week. This performance could have gotten lost in the shuffle, but thankfully, that was not the case.

Nigel brought charisma, intelligence and a sense of fun to his stage presence as he presented his cabaret, “From Blasphemy to Rapture” over the course of an hour+, where he returned to the stage for TWO encores. He seemed to captivate the audience going through a range of familiar and lesser known songs. He didn’t shy away from storytelling in between most of the songs, whether it was about a personal/family memory or something in a broader context. In the latter category, he presented an especially memorable series of one liners based on real excerpts (malapropisms) from a church newsletter.

Nigel clearly thrived on the performer –> audience interaction of his work. I was pleased that the audience members, about 1/2 of whom I knew, were so clearly enthusiastic about his offerings. Part of the joy and excitement may have come from his relative exoticness to us. British performers don’t come through Marin every day, even though there are many theatre companies and ties to history within this area. I know I am often keenly aware of California’s distance from Europe, having grown up in a place where the proximity and cultural evolution is much more apparent. It is possible that for this evening, in a place I like to call “the perfect combination of California, England and Switzerland”, that cultural connection was fully realized.

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My mom and I returned to Mill Valley the following evening to catch my 22nd show of the year, Fuddy Meers at the Marin Theatre Company. MTC’s art department seemed to really be having fun with the marketing for this show, evoking a zany funhouse of comedy just through the poster. I later noticed that they constructed a YouTube video for the show with the actors interviewed off stage and in character. The reviews glowed with comedic praise for the cast’s ensemble efforts. But for me, the performance did not connect.

I’m not sure if it was the hyper manic energy of the scenes, a wide tonal difference between interpretation and execution of the plot, or a general uneven storyline… I was not drawn into the show and found it difficult to empathize with an increasingly absurdist plot. It was only in the final scene, when the true humanity of the story is described in broad strokes, that I felt some level of identification and understanding with the protagonist and her family members.

It’s too bad, where the premise sounds like it could be Memento on magic mushrooms. A woman, Claire, wakes up one morning with no memory of her life. Her husband and sullen son quickly arrive on the scene and inform her that this routine happens every day. When the husband steps away from her room, a masked intruder appears and says he is Claire’s brother. The visitor convinces Claire to come with him to their mother’s house. Once there, they reconnect with their speech impaired mother and another seemingly random friend who has a clear manic disorder. Another woman also enters the scenes before everything comes to a head at the mother’s house for the rest of the show.

The set and sound design carried the themes of the show with a high level of panache. I appreciated the SF Playhouse-style unfolding main set, which started the show as a bedroom, and later transmogrified into several other rooms based on unfolding and refolding compartments. The sound design evoked an Amelie-style flair of cheerful whimsicality.

My mixed reaction to this production made me think back to a recent group discussion about excellence and feedback in the theatre world. Who do we go to if we have constructive criticism about a performance? Do the actors and production team expect to be always praised? What happens if and when the praise is mixed in with critique? These are all important components of a well rounded theatrical experience. Though I may not always appreciate or want to recognize the mixed-bag theatrical experiences… I do know that they continue to lead to memorable performances. There is an important and thoughtful sense of vital variety.

Several local friends are mentioned in this SF Examiner blog post which I thought was a cheerful representation of the BATCC night. Unfortunately I was not there in person, but I was happy to hear of the balance of the awards between large and smaller theatres.

That’s all for now!