| THEATER TIMES REVIEWS APRIL 2006 |
The Constant Wife
Old Globe Theatre
South Coast Repertory
A Noise Within
Old Globe Theatre
South Coast Repertory
A Noise Within
Ubu Roi
by Alfred Jarry, translation by Cyril Connoly and Simon Watson Taylor, directed and
choreographed by Julia Rodriguez-Elliott, original music/musical direction David O
A Noise Within
WITH Alan Blumenfeld, Deborah Strang, Stephen Rockwell, Mitchell Edmonds, Jill Hill, Jason Chanos, James
Foster-Keddie, Shaun Taylor-Corbett, Carlos Larkin, Georgette Brotherson, Radick Cembrzynski, Suzanne
Jamieson, Schuyler Scott Mastain, Amy Toothman and David O, piano PRODUCTION Melissa Ficociello set;
Leon Wiebers, costumes; Ken Booth, lights; Charlotte Purefoy, wigs; fight choreography by Kenneth J.
Merckx; Vika Teplinskaya, scenic artist
An energetic and impassioned production of 'Ubu Roi,' Alfred Jarry's landmark lampoon
of bourgeois foolishness, has transformed A Noise Within's Masonic Hall into an
asylum auditorium and ticket-holders into visitors on a 90-minute pass. Director Julia
Rodriguez-Elliott whips up a successful foam of theatrical madness that, like a
carnival tumbling over a cliff, begins in descent and gets more riveting and dangerous
as it picks up speed.
Enough to cause riots at its premiere 110 years ago, today 'Ubu' would be no more arresting than a 'Beavis
and Butthead' episode were it not for exuberant productions like this one. Paris theatergoers were incensed
in 1896 to be among the first to hear "Shit" said on stage, and said as the first word of a play. 'Pshit' is
virtually spat by the title character as he sits with his spouse astride matching crappers. Pa and Ma Ubu
(Alan Blumenfeld and Deborah Strang) are grotesqueries with powdered faces, garish make up, wild hair
and outlandish padded costumes that turn them into cartoons. She crochets, carps and craps as Ubu
chews, spews and dumps. As he engages in this mindless cycle of feeding and relieving himself, we get a
sinking feeling that Ubu's threatened military movement will be just as circular and pointless, but at a cost of
countless lives.
There's a drunken, don't-shoot-me quality to an overture composed and played by David O. He underscores
the entire show and helps launch several musical numbers that pop up along the way. He is stationed at an
upright piano between seating tiers,surrounded by various percussive aids from gong to trash can. Jarry's
apologetic curtain speech back in 1896 blamed the fates for reducing what should have been a full
orchestra to a piano player and a drummer. But the presence of O at the upright adds the perfect aura of
Florimond Ronger, one of the influences on Jarry through a flamboyant theatrical genre called French opera
bouffe. As a young man in the mid-1800s Ronger played the organ in the Paris asylum where his mother
managed the patients' clothes. To ease the inmates' dreary lives, he wrote musical plays for them to
perform. Word spread to theater managers and the asylum became a theatrical hotspot until Ronger was
offered the job of conductor for the Théâtre du Palais-Royal. Not crazy himself, he accepted.
Rodriguez-Elliott seems to have tapped into the spirit of both Jarry, Ronger (who changed his name to
Herve) and even Bob Fosse, for a number of decadent 'Cabaret' type numbers she choreographed (with
occasional assistance from Jameson Jones.
An Ensemble of Similar Bent
Driving the insanity like a locomotive are Blumenfeld and Strang. But the entire cast is fired with dementia.
On only one occasion -- during Ubu's purging of prisoners -- did the proceedings change from major to
minor. But Rodriguez-Elliott was just as quickly into so new and engaging staging idea for the next scene.
Among the cast members who shine are Mitchell Edmonds, who is regal as Wenceslas and Jill Hill as his
queen, who somehow stays appealing despite a kisser full of stalac-teeth. Stephen Rothman as Macnure
and Shaun Taylor-Corbett as Boggerlas also help keep the thin plot riveting. Also, nice to see Suzanne
Jamieson (Maggie Smurt in "Safe in Hell") get a chance to show off her singing -- and kazooing.
With her designers feeding off the fun-house spirit, Rodriguez-Elliott has created a show that pays respect
to theater history as it gives current theatergoers their money's worth of in-your-face excitement.
Playing in repertory into May with 'Arms and the Man' and 'The Tempest.' Check 'A Noise Within' link for
dates.
by Alfred Jarry, translation by Cyril Connoly and Simon Watson Taylor, directed and
choreographed by Julia Rodriguez-Elliott, original music/musical direction David O
A Noise Within
WITH Alan Blumenfeld, Deborah Strang, Stephen Rockwell, Mitchell Edmonds, Jill Hill, Jason Chanos, James
Foster-Keddie, Shaun Taylor-Corbett, Carlos Larkin, Georgette Brotherson, Radick Cembrzynski, Suzanne
Jamieson, Schuyler Scott Mastain, Amy Toothman and David O, piano PRODUCTION Melissa Ficociello set;
Leon Wiebers, costumes; Ken Booth, lights; Charlotte Purefoy, wigs; fight choreography by Kenneth J.
Merckx; Vika Teplinskaya, scenic artist
An energetic and impassioned production of 'Ubu Roi,' Alfred Jarry's landmark lampoon
of bourgeois foolishness, has transformed A Noise Within's Masonic Hall into an
asylum auditorium and ticket-holders into visitors on a 90-minute pass. Director Julia
Rodriguez-Elliott whips up a successful foam of theatrical madness that, like a
carnival tumbling over a cliff, begins in descent and gets more riveting and dangerous
as it picks up speed.
Enough to cause riots at its premiere 110 years ago, today 'Ubu' would be no more arresting than a 'Beavis
and Butthead' episode were it not for exuberant productions like this one. Paris theatergoers were incensed
in 1896 to be among the first to hear "Shit" said on stage, and said as the first word of a play. 'Pshit' is
virtually spat by the title character as he sits with his spouse astride matching crappers. Pa and Ma Ubu
(Alan Blumenfeld and Deborah Strang) are grotesqueries with powdered faces, garish make up, wild hair
and outlandish padded costumes that turn them into cartoons. She crochets, carps and craps as Ubu
chews, spews and dumps. As he engages in this mindless cycle of feeding and relieving himself, we get a
sinking feeling that Ubu's threatened military movement will be just as circular and pointless, but at a cost of
countless lives.
There's a drunken, don't-shoot-me quality to an overture composed and played by David O. He underscores
the entire show and helps launch several musical numbers that pop up along the way. He is stationed at an
upright piano between seating tiers,surrounded by various percussive aids from gong to trash can. Jarry's
apologetic curtain speech back in 1896 blamed the fates for reducing what should have been a full
orchestra to a piano player and a drummer. But the presence of O at the upright adds the perfect aura of
Florimond Ronger, one of the influences on Jarry through a flamboyant theatrical genre called French opera
bouffe. As a young man in the mid-1800s Ronger played the organ in the Paris asylum where his mother
managed the patients' clothes. To ease the inmates' dreary lives, he wrote musical plays for them to
perform. Word spread to theater managers and the asylum became a theatrical hotspot until Ronger was
offered the job of conductor for the Théâtre du Palais-Royal. Not crazy himself, he accepted.
Rodriguez-Elliott seems to have tapped into the spirit of both Jarry, Ronger (who changed his name to
Herve) and even Bob Fosse, for a number of decadent 'Cabaret' type numbers she choreographed (with
occasional assistance from Jameson Jones.
An Ensemble of Similar Bent
Driving the insanity like a locomotive are Blumenfeld and Strang. But the entire cast is fired with dementia.
On only one occasion -- during Ubu's purging of prisoners -- did the proceedings change from major to
minor. But Rodriguez-Elliott was just as quickly into so new and engaging staging idea for the next scene.
Among the cast members who shine are Mitchell Edmonds, who is regal as Wenceslas and Jill Hill as his
queen, who somehow stays appealing despite a kisser full of stalac-teeth. Stephen Rothman as Macnure
and Shaun Taylor-Corbett as Boggerlas also help keep the thin plot riveting. Also, nice to see Suzanne
Jamieson (Maggie Smurt in "Safe in Hell") get a chance to show off her singing -- and kazooing.
With her designers feeding off the fun-house spirit, Rodriguez-Elliott has created a show that pays respect
to theater history as it gives current theatergoers their money's worth of in-your-face excitement.
Playing in repertory into May with 'Arms and the Man' and 'The Tempest.' Check 'A Noise Within' link for
dates.
The Constant Wife
by W. Somerset Maugham, directed by Seret Scott
At the Old Globe
WITH J. Paul Boehmer, Kandis Chappell, Heidi Fecht, Wynn Harmon, Amanda Naughton, Cris O’Bryon, Lara
Phillips, John Rosen, Henny Russell PRODUCTION Ralph Funicello, set; Lewis Brown, costumes; Chris
Parry, lights; Paul Peterson, sound
Eighty years after its writing, W. Somerset Maugham’s ‘The Constant Wife’ reminds us
that one constant in life is change. But it also shows how a clever, deftly executed
play may survive decades of change with its relevance intact. That is because, in
Seret Scott’s Old Globe staging (through May 7), this 1927 ‘attaboy’ for empowering
women depreciated by wedlock, appears to be promoting mental fidelity over marital.
An immaculate physical production by Ralph Funicello, Lewis Brown and Chris Parry transports audiences
to a time of out-dated social mores. But those mores merely marked the perimeter of society’s playing
field. People then as now are always pushing these fences further out. What gives ‘Constant’ its
constancy is that playwrights like Maugham ignore the shifts in convention and concentrate at center court,
with matters of the heart.
‘Constant’s’ central Constance, as played without flash or vengeance by a perfect Henny Russell, sees a
bigger picture than the others do. This insight makes her a touchstone for those of us looking in from the
future, but it also leads to a life in limbo. She had opted for marriage to a man who was not devoted to her.
Intuitively she knew this would give her more freedom. Attractive but not glamorous, she enjoys a
financially secure lifestyle if not a romantic one, believing she cannot have both. She is prepared to
overlook the dalliances of her husband (an excellent Wynn Harmon) as part of that freedom until proof of
his philandering lands in their crowded living room. Without showing her hand, she engages the mind that
has been idling, and begins a process that will eventually give her the upper hand, and with that a fair
shake.
Maugham’s script does at times spin its wheels while chasing its tale. After all, there is not much going on
here. Certainly with a lesser cast playing it as farce, it would be a long evening indeed. Kandis Chappell is
Constance’s mother, Mrs. Culver, an independent-thinking if not independent step in the evolution of
Constance. Actors Heidi Fecht, J. Paul Boehmer, and Amanda Naughton, all flesh out there fairly one-
dimensional, utilitarian characters with as much character as possible. Naughton even favors us with a
beautifully rendered song to open Act II.
The decade in which ‘The Constant Wife’ debuted began with two sobering changes in America. In 1920 it
became a crime to drink alcohol and to prohibit women from voting. In Britain, where the play is set,
although women began gaining voting rights in the 19th Century, the final restrictions would not come until
the year after the play opened. Maugham was finishing his 10-year marriage as he finished this play. He
divorced his wife the year the play premiered. He would not remarry, but continue the 30-year relationship
with Gerald Haxton, with whom the bisexual Maugham had begun a love affair during WWI.
by W. Somerset Maugham, directed by Seret Scott
At the Old Globe
WITH J. Paul Boehmer, Kandis Chappell, Heidi Fecht, Wynn Harmon, Amanda Naughton, Cris O’Bryon, Lara
Phillips, John Rosen, Henny Russell PRODUCTION Ralph Funicello, set; Lewis Brown, costumes; Chris
Parry, lights; Paul Peterson, sound
Eighty years after its writing, W. Somerset Maugham’s ‘The Constant Wife’ reminds us
that one constant in life is change. But it also shows how a clever, deftly executed
play may survive decades of change with its relevance intact. That is because, in
Seret Scott’s Old Globe staging (through May 7), this 1927 ‘attaboy’ for empowering
women depreciated by wedlock, appears to be promoting mental fidelity over marital.
An immaculate physical production by Ralph Funicello, Lewis Brown and Chris Parry transports audiences
to a time of out-dated social mores. But those mores merely marked the perimeter of society’s playing
field. People then as now are always pushing these fences further out. What gives ‘Constant’ its
constancy is that playwrights like Maugham ignore the shifts in convention and concentrate at center court,
with matters of the heart.
‘Constant’s’ central Constance, as played without flash or vengeance by a perfect Henny Russell, sees a
bigger picture than the others do. This insight makes her a touchstone for those of us looking in from the
future, but it also leads to a life in limbo. She had opted for marriage to a man who was not devoted to her.
Intuitively she knew this would give her more freedom. Attractive but not glamorous, she enjoys a
financially secure lifestyle if not a romantic one, believing she cannot have both. She is prepared to
overlook the dalliances of her husband (an excellent Wynn Harmon) as part of that freedom until proof of
his philandering lands in their crowded living room. Without showing her hand, she engages the mind that
has been idling, and begins a process that will eventually give her the upper hand, and with that a fair
shake.
Maugham’s script does at times spin its wheels while chasing its tale. After all, there is not much going on
here. Certainly with a lesser cast playing it as farce, it would be a long evening indeed. Kandis Chappell is
Constance’s mother, Mrs. Culver, an independent-thinking if not independent step in the evolution of
Constance. Actors Heidi Fecht, J. Paul Boehmer, and Amanda Naughton, all flesh out there fairly one-
dimensional, utilitarian characters with as much character as possible. Naughton even favors us with a
beautifully rendered song to open Act II.
The decade in which ‘The Constant Wife’ debuted began with two sobering changes in America. In 1920 it
became a crime to drink alcohol and to prohibit women from voting. In Britain, where the play is set,
although women began gaining voting rights in the 19th Century, the final restrictions would not come until
the year after the play opened. Maugham was finishing his 10-year marriage as he finished this play. He
divorced his wife the year the play premiered. He would not remarry, but continue the 30-year relationship
with Gerald Haxton, with whom the bisexual Maugham had begun a love affair during WWI.
Henny Russell, Wynn Harmon
Photo by Craig Schwartz
Photo by Craig Schwartz
The Studio
written, directed and choreographed by Christopher d'Amboise
On South Coast Repertory's Segerstrom Stage
with Nancy Lemenager, Terrance Mann, John Todd (und.: Seth Belliston and Yvette Tucker)
production: Christopher Barreca, set; Angela Balogh Calin, costumes; Peter Maradudin, lights; Karl
Fredrick Lundeberg, composer; B.C. Keller, sound; Megan Monaghan, dramaturg
‘Suspension’ is the key to ‘The Studio': The show’s dancers must suspend themselves
in gravity-defying movement while their characters suspend doubts about their
choreographer's sanity and the audience suspends disbelief to better sidestep the
storytelling holes. However, if writer-director-choreographer Christopher d’Amboise,
who along with his father Jacques and sister Charlotte are part of America’s ballet and
dance pantheon, says this effectively unlocks the creative crucible of choreography,
then we probably need to shut up and say “Ahhhh!”
For its part, South Coast Repertory has given d’Amboise a handsome world premiere (on the Segerstrom
Stage through May 7) and a cast capable of addressing the challenges of this play about dance. If the
creative process in dance is one of grueling, tedious work occasionally broken by moments of exhilarating
breakthroughs, then ‘The Studio’ succeeds in capturing that feeling. It also underscores the art form’s
complex-inducing obsession with the body. Those who think the world fixates of appearance will
sympathize with people who work where the walls have mirrors. There is no escape from self-scrutiny.
Furthermore, in terms of prospects for career longevity, professional dance makes professional sports look
a like bastion of job security.
Terrance Mann is the reputed genius choreographer groping to reactivate a legend on its way to becoming a
footnote. Mann manages to make as much sense as possible of Emil, who has enough anti-social quirks to
fill a manual on creating an eccentric artist. He will stand catatonic for days while his dancers wait for
instructions. He will sit fully clothed in his tub, then pop up to scrawl choreographic notations across his
living room walls. Once, he famously pulled the plug on months of painstaking work when at the last
moment he refused to raise the curtain on a major dance premiere. For some reason, d'Amboise has not
only made this figure representing the creative process a brute, but a fraud. The Pittsburgh-born Emil long
ago adopted a European accent and demeanor to appear more sophisticated. He also offers the homily that
in dance, the “music is the key.” However, he seems to choreograph without regard to the music.
What this may mean is that, ultimately, 'The Studio' is about the process and not the people. If so, d'Amboise
shows a process more futile than functional. Nancy Lemenager and John Todd are veteran dancers who
have signed on to help Emil create. They are passing out of their prime, and so all the more dedicated to
participate in the dream of making dance history as the originators of a major new piece.
At one point, Emil demonstrates for his accomplices his measure of success: a simple exhaled 'Aaaah.' It is
the satisfied sound of someone discovering a transcendent truth through the work of art he or she is
viewing. In fairness, this insider's view of dance is working for audiences who, like the characters, are
willing to overlook quirks to participate in a major new work.
written, directed and choreographed by Christopher d'Amboise
On South Coast Repertory's Segerstrom Stage
with Nancy Lemenager, Terrance Mann, John Todd (und.: Seth Belliston and Yvette Tucker)
production: Christopher Barreca, set; Angela Balogh Calin, costumes; Peter Maradudin, lights; Karl
Fredrick Lundeberg, composer; B.C. Keller, sound; Megan Monaghan, dramaturg
‘Suspension’ is the key to ‘The Studio': The show’s dancers must suspend themselves
in gravity-defying movement while their characters suspend doubts about their
choreographer's sanity and the audience suspends disbelief to better sidestep the
storytelling holes. However, if writer-director-choreographer Christopher d’Amboise,
who along with his father Jacques and sister Charlotte are part of America’s ballet and
dance pantheon, says this effectively unlocks the creative crucible of choreography,
then we probably need to shut up and say “Ahhhh!”
For its part, South Coast Repertory has given d’Amboise a handsome world premiere (on the Segerstrom
Stage through May 7) and a cast capable of addressing the challenges of this play about dance. If the
creative process in dance is one of grueling, tedious work occasionally broken by moments of exhilarating
breakthroughs, then ‘The Studio’ succeeds in capturing that feeling. It also underscores the art form’s
complex-inducing obsession with the body. Those who think the world fixates of appearance will
sympathize with people who work where the walls have mirrors. There is no escape from self-scrutiny.
Furthermore, in terms of prospects for career longevity, professional dance makes professional sports look
a like bastion of job security.
Terrance Mann is the reputed genius choreographer groping to reactivate a legend on its way to becoming a
footnote. Mann manages to make as much sense as possible of Emil, who has enough anti-social quirks to
fill a manual on creating an eccentric artist. He will stand catatonic for days while his dancers wait for
instructions. He will sit fully clothed in his tub, then pop up to scrawl choreographic notations across his
living room walls. Once, he famously pulled the plug on months of painstaking work when at the last
moment he refused to raise the curtain on a major dance premiere. For some reason, d'Amboise has not
only made this figure representing the creative process a brute, but a fraud. The Pittsburgh-born Emil long
ago adopted a European accent and demeanor to appear more sophisticated. He also offers the homily that
in dance, the “music is the key.” However, he seems to choreograph without regard to the music.
What this may mean is that, ultimately, 'The Studio' is about the process and not the people. If so, d'Amboise
shows a process more futile than functional. Nancy Lemenager and John Todd are veteran dancers who
have signed on to help Emil create. They are passing out of their prime, and so all the more dedicated to
participate in the dream of making dance history as the originators of a major new piece.
At one point, Emil demonstrates for his accomplices his measure of success: a simple exhaled 'Aaaah.' It is
the satisfied sound of someone discovering a transcendent truth through the work of art he or she is
viewing. In fairness, this insider's view of dance is working for audiences who, like the characters, are
willing to overlook quirks to participate in a major new work.
Terrance Mann
Nancy Lemenager
John Todd
KEN HOWARD
Nancy Lemenager
John Todd
KEN HOWARD
Deborah Strang, Alan
Blumenfeld.
CRAIG SCHWARTZ
Blumenfeld.
CRAIG SCHWARTZ
