| THEATER TIMES REVIEWS SEPTEMBER 2007 page 1 |
The Adding Machine
La Jolla Playhouse
Road Company Theatre
Laguna Playhouse
Avenue Q
Ahmanson Theatre
International City Theatre
Durango
East West Players
South Coast Repertory
Pasadena Playhouse
Third
Geffen Playhouse
La Jolla Playhouse
Road Company Theatre
Laguna Playhouse
Avenue Q
Ahmanson Theatre
International City Theatre
Durango
East West Players
South Coast Repertory
Pasadena Playhouse
Third
Geffen Playhouse
Matter of Honor
by Michael J. Chepiga, directed by Scott Schwartz World Premiere
Pasadena Playhouse • August 24-September 30, 2007 (Opened, reviewed 8/31)
WITH Steve Coombs, Richard Doyle, Eric Lutes, Cedric Sanders, Adam J. Smith, Brian Watkins, with Steve
Holm, John O'Brien, Ryan J. Hill PRODUCTION Robert Brill, set; Maggie Morgan, costumes; Donald Holder,
lights; Mark Bennett, sound/original music; Austin Switser, visual effects; Charles M. Turner III/Hethyr
Verhoef, stage management.
On August 31 the story of Johnson Chestnut Whittaker’s years at the United States
Military Academy arrived by stage in the Pasadena Playhouse premiere of Michael J.
Chepiga’s ‘Matter of Honor.’ Directed by Scott Schwartz and continuing through
September 30 it dramatizes events leading up to West Point’s discharge of Whittaker,
the sixth African American appointed there. This infuriating and instructive episode
from the late 1870s was previously the focus of a 1972 book by John Marszalek and a
1994 docudrama from Showtime, both entitled “Assault at West Point: The Court
Martial of Johnson Whittaker.”
According to a program ad, Chepiga’s version is “a mystery inspired by the true story.” Whether
fictionalizing has enhanced or undermined the true story’s impact is its own mystery. After researching the
real-life Whittaker, however, facts that the playwright has chosen not to incorporate lead one to wonder if
he has mined as much drama as he might have. Still, credit him with retraining a light on a form of stoic
American heroism too long swept under the bunk; and credit the Pasadena Playhouse with handing him a
high-voltage production for a torch.
Born a South Carolina slave in 1858, Whittaker attended West Point from his 18th birthday until his
discharge in 1882. Politicians appoint cadets to the academy, and S.L. Hoge had promoted a man already
proven at the University of South Carolina. At the university, according to Marszalek, he “had benefited
from tutoring at the hands of Professor Richard T. Greener,” the first African American to graduate from
Harvard. The university’s Web site refers to Greener as a professor of “moral and mental philosophy”
who also taught international and U.S. Constitutional law.
Of the five black cadets who preceded Whittaker, all but Henry C. Flipper had been discharged. Except for
a few months living with Flipper before he graduated in 1877, Whittaker was an island amid the white
corps. He lived alone in a room meant for two men and was on the receiving end of 'silencing,' the practice
by whites of not speaking to blacks other than at drill and ostracizing them to sit alone at meals and church
services.
Early one morning in April 1880, Whittaker was found unconscious and bleeding on the floor of his room.
His hands and feet were bound, and his ears had been sliced. A mirror had been broken over his head
and a note of warning pinned to his shirt. Pages from the Bible his mother had given him were torn out and
burned. Once revived, Whittaker reported to the school's officials that he had been blindfolded while
sleeping and tortured by what sounded like three students.
To tell how the institution pursued the “mystery” of what happened and how it was decided to discharge
Whittaker is the focus of ‘Matter of Honor.’ Our guide is a fictitious investigator named Chase (Eric Lutes),
who as the play begins is a broken alcoholic, wallowing in guilt over his participation two years earlier in
concocting the rationale that Whittaker had staged his own beating to avoid an exam. Ironically, given his
exposure to Greener, it was philosophy he was supposedly dodging. Though Whittaker (Cedric Sanders)
maintains a central place in the story, the focus is split between them and the dramatic arc and time line
follow Chase. The frequent back and forth in time, complicated by Chase's shifts in sobriety, make the role
more muddled than it need be. Yet, Lutes gamely tries to center it along the moving target of time and
temperance. He may also be holding fire in the performance to leave headroom for Sander's Whittaker to
remain the star. Establishing a POV around a self-absorbed white accessory is an appropriate tact in
America, though a surprising one at a theater that after 10 years of Sheldon Epps’ Artistic Directorship has
arrived as a prominent presenter – and now generator– of African American theater. The choice to give us
a touchstone of one who like most whites in his position would probably just go along with the majority,
hints at a play about the greater society's honor and integrity. But, again, the focus is not crisp enough for
that to succeed.
Among the nuggets left out is the role of Greener, who would unsuccessfully represent Whittaker as legal
counsel. That may be because the Showtime film already centered on Greener, played by Samuel L.
Jackson, and his partner David Chamberlain played by Sam Waterston. There, Whittaker is even less
central to the story.
The cast is good, with Brian Watkins, Steve Holm, John O’Brien and Ryan J. Hill, as the young white cadets,
having the cleanest shot at nailing clearly drawn characters. As the more complicated General Schofield,
another historical figure, Richard Doyle provides humanity for a man whose priority is the institution, even
though that means divided loyalties for the young men who constitute it. As Whittaker, Sanders is boxed in
with no other character to speak with honestly -- the way Chase does with Stern (Adam J. Smith), the
West Point representative who seeks him out and gets him re-engaged. Ironically, by not providing him such
a sounding board, Chepiga manages to silence Whittaker once more. Still, Sanders does his best to let us
see much of what is going on inside.
What should, first and foremost, be a riveting drama powered by language rich in texture and insight, is not
inherently gripping and may appear to be leaning on the superb production values. Re-enactments of the
beating, on a hydraulic platform enveloped in stage smoke, Hellish red light and piercing sound cues, can’t
compensate for a script that is not uplifting. Still, a creative team – led by Robert Brill (set) and Donald
Holder (lights) – are, as the Board Chairman writes, “one of the finest ever assembled at the Playhouse.”
And, if you’ve brought a box of the finest fireworks to the picnic, it’s crazy not to light ‘em up.
Finally, a writer relying on such extensive text projections to fill in historical links and button up loose ends
-- in a play 'inspired' by facts -- may have a script tugging for another look. Though Chepiga is past the
point of such radical restructuring, future writers looking for a guide into Whittaker's story may want to look
to Whittaker himself as an older man. Research indicates that, far from being defeated by the mistreatment,
as Chase was by his complicity, Whittaker went on to a career of service outside the military as an
educator and administrator. Even though recollection structure is admittedly creaky, a proud and
productive Whittaker, who died in 1931, could easily tell his story to a young man or woman who, we can
imagine, would incorporate the story into his or her work. For instance, Ralph Ellison, who some
researchers say was once a student of Whittaker's.
ON THE REAL SIDE. In July 1995, a year after the Showtime film aired, President Clinton presented an
honorary Second Lieutenant’s commission to Whittaker’s descendants, 115 years after the court
martial.
On August 9, 2007, the 'Washington Post' ran the obituary of an 89-year-old retired Army Colonel named
Clarence M. Davenport Jr. There in black and white, two weeks before 'Matter of Honor's first preview,
was immediate connection to a play about something that happened 130 years ago. Davenport entered
West Point in 1939, along with Robert B. Tresville, another black cadet. They “were not roommates,” the
Post reported. “[In] fact, neither was assigned a roommate during their four years there, unlike the other
cadets.” Two more enrolled the following year but lasted only two weeks in the hostile atmosphere. Of the
first 21 African Americans appointed to the academy, Davenport and Tresville were only the sixth and
seventh to graduate. The other 14 were discharged.
“Like one of their predecessors, Air Force Gen. Benjamin O. Davis Jr.," the obituary says, "Col. Davenport
and Tresville endured four years of ‘silencing,’ in which they were spoken to only for official business. No
other cadets would sit by them, even during chapel services. At the end of the plebe year, when it was
customary for upperclassmen to shake hands with rising cadets, no one took theirs.”
Tresville was killed serving the country in World War II.
by Michael J. Chepiga, directed by Scott Schwartz World Premiere
Pasadena Playhouse • August 24-September 30, 2007 (Opened, reviewed 8/31)
WITH Steve Coombs, Richard Doyle, Eric Lutes, Cedric Sanders, Adam J. Smith, Brian Watkins, with Steve
Holm, John O'Brien, Ryan J. Hill PRODUCTION Robert Brill, set; Maggie Morgan, costumes; Donald Holder,
lights; Mark Bennett, sound/original music; Austin Switser, visual effects; Charles M. Turner III/Hethyr
Verhoef, stage management.
On August 31 the story of Johnson Chestnut Whittaker’s years at the United States
Military Academy arrived by stage in the Pasadena Playhouse premiere of Michael J.
Chepiga’s ‘Matter of Honor.’ Directed by Scott Schwartz and continuing through
September 30 it dramatizes events leading up to West Point’s discharge of Whittaker,
the sixth African American appointed there. This infuriating and instructive episode
from the late 1870s was previously the focus of a 1972 book by John Marszalek and a
1994 docudrama from Showtime, both entitled “Assault at West Point: The Court
Martial of Johnson Whittaker.”
According to a program ad, Chepiga’s version is “a mystery inspired by the true story.” Whether
fictionalizing has enhanced or undermined the true story’s impact is its own mystery. After researching the
real-life Whittaker, however, facts that the playwright has chosen not to incorporate lead one to wonder if
he has mined as much drama as he might have. Still, credit him with retraining a light on a form of stoic
American heroism too long swept under the bunk; and credit the Pasadena Playhouse with handing him a
high-voltage production for a torch.
Born a South Carolina slave in 1858, Whittaker attended West Point from his 18th birthday until his
discharge in 1882. Politicians appoint cadets to the academy, and S.L. Hoge had promoted a man already
proven at the University of South Carolina. At the university, according to Marszalek, he “had benefited
from tutoring at the hands of Professor Richard T. Greener,” the first African American to graduate from
Harvard. The university’s Web site refers to Greener as a professor of “moral and mental philosophy”
who also taught international and U.S. Constitutional law.
Of the five black cadets who preceded Whittaker, all but Henry C. Flipper had been discharged. Except for
a few months living with Flipper before he graduated in 1877, Whittaker was an island amid the white
corps. He lived alone in a room meant for two men and was on the receiving end of 'silencing,' the practice
by whites of not speaking to blacks other than at drill and ostracizing them to sit alone at meals and church
services.
Early one morning in April 1880, Whittaker was found unconscious and bleeding on the floor of his room.
His hands and feet were bound, and his ears had been sliced. A mirror had been broken over his head
and a note of warning pinned to his shirt. Pages from the Bible his mother had given him were torn out and
burned. Once revived, Whittaker reported to the school's officials that he had been blindfolded while
sleeping and tortured by what sounded like three students.
To tell how the institution pursued the “mystery” of what happened and how it was decided to discharge
Whittaker is the focus of ‘Matter of Honor.’ Our guide is a fictitious investigator named Chase (Eric Lutes),
who as the play begins is a broken alcoholic, wallowing in guilt over his participation two years earlier in
concocting the rationale that Whittaker had staged his own beating to avoid an exam. Ironically, given his
exposure to Greener, it was philosophy he was supposedly dodging. Though Whittaker (Cedric Sanders)
maintains a central place in the story, the focus is split between them and the dramatic arc and time line
follow Chase. The frequent back and forth in time, complicated by Chase's shifts in sobriety, make the role
more muddled than it need be. Yet, Lutes gamely tries to center it along the moving target of time and
temperance. He may also be holding fire in the performance to leave headroom for Sander's Whittaker to
remain the star. Establishing a POV around a self-absorbed white accessory is an appropriate tact in
America, though a surprising one at a theater that after 10 years of Sheldon Epps’ Artistic Directorship has
arrived as a prominent presenter – and now generator– of African American theater. The choice to give us
a touchstone of one who like most whites in his position would probably just go along with the majority,
hints at a play about the greater society's honor and integrity. But, again, the focus is not crisp enough for
that to succeed.
Among the nuggets left out is the role of Greener, who would unsuccessfully represent Whittaker as legal
counsel. That may be because the Showtime film already centered on Greener, played by Samuel L.
Jackson, and his partner David Chamberlain played by Sam Waterston. There, Whittaker is even less
central to the story.
The cast is good, with Brian Watkins, Steve Holm, John O’Brien and Ryan J. Hill, as the young white cadets,
having the cleanest shot at nailing clearly drawn characters. As the more complicated General Schofield,
another historical figure, Richard Doyle provides humanity for a man whose priority is the institution, even
though that means divided loyalties for the young men who constitute it. As Whittaker, Sanders is boxed in
with no other character to speak with honestly -- the way Chase does with Stern (Adam J. Smith), the
West Point representative who seeks him out and gets him re-engaged. Ironically, by not providing him such
a sounding board, Chepiga manages to silence Whittaker once more. Still, Sanders does his best to let us
see much of what is going on inside.
What should, first and foremost, be a riveting drama powered by language rich in texture and insight, is not
inherently gripping and may appear to be leaning on the superb production values. Re-enactments of the
beating, on a hydraulic platform enveloped in stage smoke, Hellish red light and piercing sound cues, can’t
compensate for a script that is not uplifting. Still, a creative team – led by Robert Brill (set) and Donald
Holder (lights) – are, as the Board Chairman writes, “one of the finest ever assembled at the Playhouse.”
And, if you’ve brought a box of the finest fireworks to the picnic, it’s crazy not to light ‘em up.
Finally, a writer relying on such extensive text projections to fill in historical links and button up loose ends
-- in a play 'inspired' by facts -- may have a script tugging for another look. Though Chepiga is past the
point of such radical restructuring, future writers looking for a guide into Whittaker's story may want to look
to Whittaker himself as an older man. Research indicates that, far from being defeated by the mistreatment,
as Chase was by his complicity, Whittaker went on to a career of service outside the military as an
educator and administrator. Even though recollection structure is admittedly creaky, a proud and
productive Whittaker, who died in 1931, could easily tell his story to a young man or woman who, we can
imagine, would incorporate the story into his or her work. For instance, Ralph Ellison, who some
researchers say was once a student of Whittaker's.
ON THE REAL SIDE. In July 1995, a year after the Showtime film aired, President Clinton presented an
honorary Second Lieutenant’s commission to Whittaker’s descendants, 115 years after the court
martial.
On August 9, 2007, the 'Washington Post' ran the obituary of an 89-year-old retired Army Colonel named
Clarence M. Davenport Jr. There in black and white, two weeks before 'Matter of Honor's first preview,
was immediate connection to a play about something that happened 130 years ago. Davenport entered
West Point in 1939, along with Robert B. Tresville, another black cadet. They “were not roommates,” the
Post reported. “[In] fact, neither was assigned a roommate during their four years there, unlike the other
cadets.” Two more enrolled the following year but lasted only two weeks in the hostile atmosphere. Of the
first 21 African Americans appointed to the academy, Davenport and Tresville were only the sixth and
seventh to graduate. The other 14 were discharged.
“Like one of their predecessors, Air Force Gen. Benjamin O. Davis Jr.," the obituary says, "Col. Davenport
and Tresville endured four years of ‘silencing,’ in which they were spoken to only for official business. No
other cadets would sit by them, even during chapel services. At the end of the plebe year, when it was
customary for upperclassmen to shake hands with rising cadets, no one took theirs.”
Tresville was killed serving the country in World War II.
Richard Doyle
Cedric Sanders
PHOTO CRAIG SCHWARTZ
Cedric Sanders
PHOTO CRAIG SCHWARTZ
Brenda Hattingh
Kym Hoy
PHOTO SHASHIN DESAI
Kym Hoy
PHOTO SHASHIN DESAI
Calling Aphrodite
by Velina Hasu Houston, directed by Shashin Desai World Premiere
International City Theatre • August 28-September 23 (Opened 8/31; rev. 9/6)
WITH Vivian Bang, Brenda Hattigh, Kym Hoy, Blake Kushi, Barry Lynch PRODUCTION Don Llewellyn, set;
Kim DeShazo, costumes; Jeremy Pivnick, lights; Glen A. Dunzweiler, sound; Kevin O’Brien, visual design;
Pamela Berlin, dramaturg; Mary Trahey, make-up; Kathleen Hager, stage management
Leave it to a woman who owes her existence to a love that owed its existence to war,
to write a play that brings together those opposing forces. ‘Calling Aphrodite,’ Velina
Hasu Houston’s unifying new drama, is receiving its world premiere under Shashin
Desai’s direction at the International City Theatre in Long Beach through September
23. And the director’s light touch in design and performance has made the most of
this coup for his theater, allowing a beautiful play to breath and radiate meaning on
many levels. His two leads tailor finely drawn characters, always allowing the words
and images within the script to do the heavy lifting.
For ‘Aphrodite,’ Houston - whose Japanese mother and African American father met in Japan after the war
- returns as she did in her best-known work, ‘Tea,’ to those years leading to her birth. There, as here, she
explores the way Japanese women had to adjust their sense of personal and cultural aesthetics in the
tangled wreckage of the post-war world. In ‘Tea,’ the women have followed their soldier husbands back to
a base at the center of America and formed their own kind of island nation within the foreign culture.
‘Calling Aphrodite’ introduces two sisters reaching adulthood in 1940s Hiroshima. Keiko (Kym Hoy) is older
than Shizuko (Vivian Bang) by a couple of years. Though she is constantly complimented on her surface
beauty, dressing in traditional kimono as if to underscore its timelessness, she is more concerned with
deeper meanings of the phenomenon, and explores those questions in inner dialogue with Aphrodite
(Brenda Hattigh), an expert on the subject.
The story follows the sisters and two doctors, the American Dr. Everett (Barry Lynch), who served U.S.
troops during the war and now tries to help traumatized Japanese, and their local Hiroshima physician
(Blake Kushi). Keiko begins the play enamored of American culture, particularly films starring Susan
Hayward. Even though her country and the U.S. are at war, Keiko can separate these nations' exhibition of
love and beauty from their engagement in war and domination.
Until the bombs drop. Then the challenges of maintaining her distinctions of beauty and integrity between
hostiles are put to the ultimate test. Houston integrates classic themes of beauty, war, love, tragedy and so
on without ever blurring her portraits of real women. When one chides the other with, 'You only loved what
he looked like,' we're hearing the stuff of myth wrapped in a teenage taunt Similarly, the central question of
beauty’s mixed blessing echoes in larger contexts. Keiko and Shizuko think the American planes have
spared their city because of its natural beauty. Once the land and people have been so ravaged, beauty
abets the enemy as they suspect that the bombers chose Hiroshima because it was clearer and more
beautiful over that city that day as compared to other cities obscured by clouds.
The less-is-more use of masks is also a plus. Aphrodite is "covered" only by a white eye mask, as if she
peeped through a door’s mail slot as the other side was being spray-painted. Productions suffer when
actors' faces are covered, eliminating the most animated agent on stage. Thankfully Desai resorts to a full
mask only briefly. Instead, we get a more powerful sense of theatrical masks and the real-life masks of
enhancing make up or disfigurement by scars.
The cast is anchored by its leads, Hoy and Lynch, who navigate what could slide into treacly melodrama in
the wrong hands.
One dramaturgical note is a possible red herring in Dr. Everett’s references to his wife, who first fails to
accompany him, then separates from him, and is then back in his life (or he has remarried) without any
apparent need for this arc. Though it never gets in the way of the storytelling, it hints that Houston may
have been laying the groundwork for Keiko to allow herself thoughts of a deeper emotional connection with
him. A romance between doctor and patient is not where this play wants to go, but the internal workings of
a once-beautiful woman reckoning her powers after damage to her image, is the kind of area Houston is
after. A word to Keiko that they are back together, without disturbing the non-relationship, might be what
the story wants. And, since Everett’s only age requirement is that he have a son of military age, if in future
productions a director casts Lynch as young as late 30s or 40, this angle would have to be sorted out one
way of the other.
As ‘Calling Aphrodite’ unfolds we feel the sure hand of a playwright whose interest in craft is matched by
her interest in humanity. When both aspects are at this high a level, theater opens both the hearts and
minds of its audience members. She is fortunate to have such a production with which to launch it. From
the opening pluck of ancient Japanese instruments, the balletic first entrances, and the framing of Don
Llewellyn's beautiful, furniture-less set we experience an integrated production that totals more than the
sum of its parts. Credit Desai with making the most of a great opportunity to premiere the work of an
important American writer.
by Velina Hasu Houston, directed by Shashin Desai World Premiere
International City Theatre • August 28-September 23 (Opened 8/31; rev. 9/6)
WITH Vivian Bang, Brenda Hattigh, Kym Hoy, Blake Kushi, Barry Lynch PRODUCTION Don Llewellyn, set;
Kim DeShazo, costumes; Jeremy Pivnick, lights; Glen A. Dunzweiler, sound; Kevin O’Brien, visual design;
Pamela Berlin, dramaturg; Mary Trahey, make-up; Kathleen Hager, stage management
Leave it to a woman who owes her existence to a love that owed its existence to war,
to write a play that brings together those opposing forces. ‘Calling Aphrodite,’ Velina
Hasu Houston’s unifying new drama, is receiving its world premiere under Shashin
Desai’s direction at the International City Theatre in Long Beach through September
23. And the director’s light touch in design and performance has made the most of
this coup for his theater, allowing a beautiful play to breath and radiate meaning on
many levels. His two leads tailor finely drawn characters, always allowing the words
and images within the script to do the heavy lifting.
For ‘Aphrodite,’ Houston - whose Japanese mother and African American father met in Japan after the war
- returns as she did in her best-known work, ‘Tea,’ to those years leading to her birth. There, as here, she
explores the way Japanese women had to adjust their sense of personal and cultural aesthetics in the
tangled wreckage of the post-war world. In ‘Tea,’ the women have followed their soldier husbands back to
a base at the center of America and formed their own kind of island nation within the foreign culture.
‘Calling Aphrodite’ introduces two sisters reaching adulthood in 1940s Hiroshima. Keiko (Kym Hoy) is older
than Shizuko (Vivian Bang) by a couple of years. Though she is constantly complimented on her surface
beauty, dressing in traditional kimono as if to underscore its timelessness, she is more concerned with
deeper meanings of the phenomenon, and explores those questions in inner dialogue with Aphrodite
(Brenda Hattigh), an expert on the subject.
The story follows the sisters and two doctors, the American Dr. Everett (Barry Lynch), who served U.S.
troops during the war and now tries to help traumatized Japanese, and their local Hiroshima physician
(Blake Kushi). Keiko begins the play enamored of American culture, particularly films starring Susan
Hayward. Even though her country and the U.S. are at war, Keiko can separate these nations' exhibition of
love and beauty from their engagement in war and domination.
Until the bombs drop. Then the challenges of maintaining her distinctions of beauty and integrity between
hostiles are put to the ultimate test. Houston integrates classic themes of beauty, war, love, tragedy and so
on without ever blurring her portraits of real women. When one chides the other with, 'You only loved what
he looked like,' we're hearing the stuff of myth wrapped in a teenage taunt Similarly, the central question of
beauty’s mixed blessing echoes in larger contexts. Keiko and Shizuko think the American planes have
spared their city because of its natural beauty. Once the land and people have been so ravaged, beauty
abets the enemy as they suspect that the bombers chose Hiroshima because it was clearer and more
beautiful over that city that day as compared to other cities obscured by clouds.
The less-is-more use of masks is also a plus. Aphrodite is "covered" only by a white eye mask, as if she
peeped through a door’s mail slot as the other side was being spray-painted. Productions suffer when
actors' faces are covered, eliminating the most animated agent on stage. Thankfully Desai resorts to a full
mask only briefly. Instead, we get a more powerful sense of theatrical masks and the real-life masks of
enhancing make up or disfigurement by scars.
The cast is anchored by its leads, Hoy and Lynch, who navigate what could slide into treacly melodrama in
the wrong hands.
One dramaturgical note is a possible red herring in Dr. Everett’s references to his wife, who first fails to
accompany him, then separates from him, and is then back in his life (or he has remarried) without any
apparent need for this arc. Though it never gets in the way of the storytelling, it hints that Houston may
have been laying the groundwork for Keiko to allow herself thoughts of a deeper emotional connection with
him. A romance between doctor and patient is not where this play wants to go, but the internal workings of
a once-beautiful woman reckoning her powers after damage to her image, is the kind of area Houston is
after. A word to Keiko that they are back together, without disturbing the non-relationship, might be what
the story wants. And, since Everett’s only age requirement is that he have a son of military age, if in future
productions a director casts Lynch as young as late 30s or 40, this angle would have to be sorted out one
way of the other.
As ‘Calling Aphrodite’ unfolds we feel the sure hand of a playwright whose interest in craft is matched by
her interest in humanity. When both aspects are at this high a level, theater opens both the hearts and
minds of its audience members. She is fortunate to have such a production with which to launch it. From
the opening pluck of ancient Japanese instruments, the balletic first entrances, and the framing of Don
Llewellyn's beautiful, furniture-less set we experience an integrated production that totals more than the
sum of its parts. Credit Desai with making the most of a great opportunity to premiere the work of an
important American writer.
Avenue Q, the Broadway Musical
music and lyrics by Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx, book by Jeff Whitty, based on an original
concept by Lopez and Marx, music supervision, arrangements and orchestrations by Stephen
Oremus, choreography by Ken Roberson, directed by Jason Moore
Ahmanson Theatre September 6-October 13, 2007 (Opened 9/7, rev. 9/7)
WITH Angela Ai, Christian Anderson, Minglie Chen, Robert McClure, Cole Porter, Carla Renata, Kelli Sawyer
PRODUCTION Anna Loulzos, set; Mirena Rada, costumes; Howell Binkley, lights; Acme Sound Partners,
sound; Robert Lopez, animation; Gary Adler, incidental music, Andrew Graham, musical direction; Marian
DeWitt, stage management
Produced by Kevin McCullum, Robyn Goodman, Jeffrey Seller, Vineyard Theatre, The New Group
It has taken four years for the musical theater block party called ‘Avenue Q’ to reach
Los Angeles. In 2003, composer-lyricists Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx and book-writer
Jeff Whitty premiered their show at off-Broadway’s Vineyard Theatre under Jason
Moore’s direction. The combination of the kind of irreverence that earns cult status for
films, bubble-wrapped in Children’s Television Workshop references, earned critical
praise, gushing word-of-mouth and a move to Broadway. After it won 2004 Tony
Awards for best musical, score and book, a lone road company was sent to establish a
beach-head in Las Vegas. But that proved a dead-end when the few naughty bits (like
a scene in which puppets have sex) was just too much for families more comfortable
with Vegas' traditional offerings of gambling and nudity. So, this year ‘Avenue’ was
back on track, hitting the road in a national tour that now parks at the Ahmanson
Theatre through October 13.
Modeled after the PBS show ‘Sesame Street,’ ‘Avenue Q’ has an educational vibe that underlies all the life
lessons in Whitty's never-formulaic dialogue, to the helpful cartoon videos by Lopez, to more than 20 pop
tunes sung by the cast of humans and puppets. The puppets, who recall characters like Cookie Monster,
Bert and Ernie and others, are not here to help kids, however. They're just here to help co-opt the most
successful franchise in children’s television, creating a kind of foam-rubber ‘Rent’ by which to explore those
baffling years between leaving home and buying our own.
Issues associated with setting out on our own, like confusion over identity, sexuality, values and purpose
are the stuff of people in their 20s and 30s. Here, thanks to this aura of children’s programming, the writers
take license to say anything. They apply the directness and innocence of kids, who haven’t lived long
enough to watch what they say, to the neurotic world of adults, who seldom say what they feel. The
incongruity of children's puppets singing "You Can Be as Loud as the Hell You Want (When You’re Makin’
Love)" and "The Internet is for Porn" fills ‘Avenue Q’ with a giddy anarchy. These songs, and others like
"We’re All A Little Bit Racist," are more in-your-face and incendiary on paper than they play, which probably
explains the unusual step of not listing the musical numbers in the program.
The primary story follows the puppet Princeton, brought to life by Robert McClure, a 23-year-old trying to
find his purpose in life before making any professional or personal commitment. His affections become
divided between the nurturing Kate Monster, a good girl from the other side of the gene pool, and a trampy
seductress named Lucy the Slut. Kelli Sawyer provides the hands and voice for both. In addition to Princeton’
s story line, there’s one involving roommates Rod and Nicky as Rod discovers his true sexual orientation and
Nicky gets thrown out on the street when he seems unsympathetic.
The cast’s three humans include Christmas Eve, a Japanese immigrant played by Angela Ai, her boyfriend
Brian, a wannabe stand-up comedian played by Cole Porter (yes, that’s his name), and Gary Coleman,
played by Carla Renata. It’s the Gary Coleman, the former child television star after his fortune was
squandered. Now he manages one or more of the buildings on Avenue Q.
This is a highly professional cast that delivers the songs, the comedy, the muppet voices and the
everything's-okay cheeriness demanded by the show's conceit (even when it's barely noticeable beneath a
sad or dramatic section). But Sawyer and McClure, who get the big numbers that carry more story and
emotion, are the stand-outs.
The way the four puppeteers work the half-dozen puppet characters adds to the show's sense of candor
and honesty. Just as kids play with dolls by wriggling the frozen-faced things while they provide voice and
expression, the 'Avenue Q' puppeteers make no effort to hide their presence. Like ventriloquists who forgot
to keep their mouths shut, they act out each line of dialogue as their hands animate the characters' faces.
Even Minglie Chen, who is the second puppeteer in a couple of the more elaborate puppets (like Nicky), acts
out the lines in tandem as the lead puppeteer, usually Christian Anderson, provides the voice.
Tthe bizarre dichotomy is best represented by the Bad-Idea Bears, a pair of syrup-falsettoed Teddies who
pop up to offer advice at key moments. But these two are there to coach virtue. They want people to stay
out all night and pout when their human friends can only afford a six-pack instead of a case of beer.
Unless your 10-year-old has just returned from a year at sea, this is probably too salty for the kids in the
family. Still, if you love musical theater, you'll want to study how a show that begins with a tune called "My
Life Sucks" and ends with one about how unsatisfactory things are, can provide one of the most uplifting
experiences in theater this year. On the other hand, if you loved watching the Muppets' for that barely
contained subversive undercurrent, this is a must. It's like the Broadway staging of what Jim Henson and
Frank Oz might have come up with in their heydey, after they’d put the censors to bed and brought out the
good hash.
music and lyrics by Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx, book by Jeff Whitty, based on an original
concept by Lopez and Marx, music supervision, arrangements and orchestrations by Stephen
Oremus, choreography by Ken Roberson, directed by Jason Moore
Ahmanson Theatre September 6-October 13, 2007 (Opened 9/7, rev. 9/7)
WITH Angela Ai, Christian Anderson, Minglie Chen, Robert McClure, Cole Porter, Carla Renata, Kelli Sawyer
PRODUCTION Anna Loulzos, set; Mirena Rada, costumes; Howell Binkley, lights; Acme Sound Partners,
sound; Robert Lopez, animation; Gary Adler, incidental music, Andrew Graham, musical direction; Marian
DeWitt, stage management
Produced by Kevin McCullum, Robyn Goodman, Jeffrey Seller, Vineyard Theatre, The New Group
It has taken four years for the musical theater block party called ‘Avenue Q’ to reach
Los Angeles. In 2003, composer-lyricists Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx and book-writer
Jeff Whitty premiered their show at off-Broadway’s Vineyard Theatre under Jason
Moore’s direction. The combination of the kind of irreverence that earns cult status for
films, bubble-wrapped in Children’s Television Workshop references, earned critical
praise, gushing word-of-mouth and a move to Broadway. After it won 2004 Tony
Awards for best musical, score and book, a lone road company was sent to establish a
beach-head in Las Vegas. But that proved a dead-end when the few naughty bits (like
a scene in which puppets have sex) was just too much for families more comfortable
with Vegas' traditional offerings of gambling and nudity. So, this year ‘Avenue’ was
back on track, hitting the road in a national tour that now parks at the Ahmanson
Theatre through October 13.
Modeled after the PBS show ‘Sesame Street,’ ‘Avenue Q’ has an educational vibe that underlies all the life
lessons in Whitty's never-formulaic dialogue, to the helpful cartoon videos by Lopez, to more than 20 pop
tunes sung by the cast of humans and puppets. The puppets, who recall characters like Cookie Monster,
Bert and Ernie and others, are not here to help kids, however. They're just here to help co-opt the most
successful franchise in children’s television, creating a kind of foam-rubber ‘Rent’ by which to explore those
baffling years between leaving home and buying our own.
Issues associated with setting out on our own, like confusion over identity, sexuality, values and purpose
are the stuff of people in their 20s and 30s. Here, thanks to this aura of children’s programming, the writers
take license to say anything. They apply the directness and innocence of kids, who haven’t lived long
enough to watch what they say, to the neurotic world of adults, who seldom say what they feel. The
incongruity of children's puppets singing "You Can Be as Loud as the Hell You Want (When You’re Makin’
Love)" and "The Internet is for Porn" fills ‘Avenue Q’ with a giddy anarchy. These songs, and others like
"We’re All A Little Bit Racist," are more in-your-face and incendiary on paper than they play, which probably
explains the unusual step of not listing the musical numbers in the program.
The primary story follows the puppet Princeton, brought to life by Robert McClure, a 23-year-old trying to
find his purpose in life before making any professional or personal commitment. His affections become
divided between the nurturing Kate Monster, a good girl from the other side of the gene pool, and a trampy
seductress named Lucy the Slut. Kelli Sawyer provides the hands and voice for both. In addition to Princeton’
s story line, there’s one involving roommates Rod and Nicky as Rod discovers his true sexual orientation and
Nicky gets thrown out on the street when he seems unsympathetic.
The cast’s three humans include Christmas Eve, a Japanese immigrant played by Angela Ai, her boyfriend
Brian, a wannabe stand-up comedian played by Cole Porter (yes, that’s his name), and Gary Coleman,
played by Carla Renata. It’s the Gary Coleman, the former child television star after his fortune was
squandered. Now he manages one or more of the buildings on Avenue Q.
This is a highly professional cast that delivers the songs, the comedy, the muppet voices and the
everything's-okay cheeriness demanded by the show's conceit (even when it's barely noticeable beneath a
sad or dramatic section). But Sawyer and McClure, who get the big numbers that carry more story and
emotion, are the stand-outs.
The way the four puppeteers work the half-dozen puppet characters adds to the show's sense of candor
and honesty. Just as kids play with dolls by wriggling the frozen-faced things while they provide voice and
expression, the 'Avenue Q' puppeteers make no effort to hide their presence. Like ventriloquists who forgot
to keep their mouths shut, they act out each line of dialogue as their hands animate the characters' faces.
Even Minglie Chen, who is the second puppeteer in a couple of the more elaborate puppets (like Nicky), acts
out the lines in tandem as the lead puppeteer, usually Christian Anderson, provides the voice.
Tthe bizarre dichotomy is best represented by the Bad-Idea Bears, a pair of syrup-falsettoed Teddies who
pop up to offer advice at key moments. But these two are there to coach virtue. They want people to stay
out all night and pout when their human friends can only afford a six-pack instead of a case of beer.
Unless your 10-year-old has just returned from a year at sea, this is probably too salty for the kids in the
family. Still, if you love musical theater, you'll want to study how a show that begins with a tune called "My
Life Sucks" and ends with one about how unsatisfactory things are, can provide one of the most uplifting
experiences in theater this year. On the other hand, if you loved watching the Muppets' for that barely
contained subversive undercurrent, this is a must. It's like the Broadway staging of what Jim Henson and
Frank Oz might have come up with in their heydey, after they’d put the censors to bed and brought out the
good hash.
Kelli Sawyer (right)
with Kate Monster
Mrs. Thistletwat, above
PHOTO CAROL ROSEGG
with Kate Monster
Mrs. Thistletwat, above
PHOTO CAROL ROSEGG
And Neither Have I Wings to Fly
by Ann Noble, directed by Scott Cummins
Road Theatre Company • September 9-November 14, 2007 (Opened, rev. 9/14)
WITH Mark Doerr, Taylor Gilbert, Ann Noble, Leon Russom, Mark St. Amant, Stephanie Stearns, Danny
Vasquez PRODUCTION Desma Murphy, set; Gelareh Halioun, costumes; Henry Sume, lights; David B.
Marling, sound; Lee Osteen II, music; Maurie Gonzalez, stage management
Her hair and skin suggest that playwright Ann Noble has Ireland in her bones. But
more importantly for audiences at the current Road Theatre Company production of
her ‘And Neither Do I Have Wings to Fly,’ Ireland and its theater traditions are in the
bones of her writing. Consequently, her one-set, one-family drama is built of sturdy
storytelling technique, effectively exploring how people struggle to recognize and then
loose the tethers that keep them from sailing the wide gulf of their potential.
Iconic Irish elements like liquor, literature, good luck and bad -- but not delimiting themes of church or
political 'troubles' -- give the play more universal relevance. Set in the 1950s, the only hand props are those
used to eat, smoke, drink or read. It frees the play from period, and allows a vibrancy that comes from a
love of storytelling shared by the writer and her characters. It’s the running stitch that gives ‘And Neither’
the tight weave and timelessness of Irish lace.
The action occurs in the week after Moira Donnelly’s death following a three-year illness. It’s the week that
Eveline (Noble), the older of the two surviving daughters, is ignoring a deadline to enroll in a university
literature program. A scholarship to pay for the courses, also expiring, remains hidden from her father,
Peter (Leon Russom), and sister Kathleen (Stephanie Stearns). The three mourners are left to focus
instead on Kate’s imminent wedding to Leo (Danny Vasquez).
Freddy Malone (Mark Doerr), an actor who met Kate the previous summer while touring ‘Tartuffe,’ arrives to
announce he’s back with a tour of ‘Hamlet.’ His seemingly innocent visits to drum up audiences cover an
increasingly obvious desire for Kate. Leo’s brother Charley, a frequent gaol guest and roustabout (a bit
squeaky clean in Mark St. Albans’ otherwise wonderful performance), shows up for the wedding with an
obvious chance at romance for the shut-down Eveline, as well as some useful insight into
Freddy’s claims of fame.
It’s a lot of plot, and there are times in the first act, as the different strands are laid out, that it hardly seems
possible that Noble can give them their due. But she manages to keep them all trimmed and in line, in part
because she keeps what might have become the core story – Eveline's relationship with her mother’s ghost
(Taylor Gilbert) – a sidelight, and focuses instead on how the sisters service or squander their passions.
The entire cast soaks their lines in a natural, uniform brogue supervised by Linda de Vries. For her part,
Stearns allows the relationship with Freddy to evolve unseen. The way her playfulness continues to be
excused by characters and audience creates a seamless descent into a terrible dilemma. It’s a nice
achievement when a two-and-a-half hour play realistically portrays the kind of slow slide that takes weeks
or months in real life. It’s one of the pleasures of Scott Cummin's immensely watchable staging.
The other half of the story’s center is Eveline. The role is even trickier, since Eveline is written as such a
locked-heart-and-tossed-key case. Seeing when the crack in the armor occurs, without making it obvious,
is the challenge. Perhaps better sensing one of those unseen shifts could come in her first real exchange
with Charley. This is the pivotal moment where the script opens the door for the nature of the next
encounter. But Eveline is as stoic as stone masonry. One can easily justify the blankness. But the origin
of Eveline’s emotional lock down needs more insight. As does the reason Eveline so easily caves in to
Freddy’s entrance, after she goes to bar him.
While we feel the spirits of Synge and Friel in the room, Noble beautifully annexes Ibsen territory. And a
century after a similar caretaker named Pegeen Mike collapsed upon losing her ‘Playboy of the Western
World,’ Eveline not only wins her playboy's heart in Charley, she immediately risks losing him so she can
find herself. A well integrated nod to progress in a work that retains such a wide timespan.
The title is taken from ‘The Water is Wide,’ a 400-year-old English song that has been recorded by major
artists like James Taylor, Linda Ronstadt and Bob Dylan. And as the play nears its end, many of the
memorable images and events are recalled in the song’s lyrics delivered in a duet by Rossum and Gilbert.
As they work through the verses, the evening's stories are recalled and folded, like that Irish lace, back into
an area the size of a song. Perhaps the only thing more emotional than a well-rendered Irish story is an
Irish song. Noble gets her desired effect. I’d swear I saw an 11 or 12-year-old lad daubing his ducts as
the curtain call cue came up.
Now there’s a theater award.
by Ann Noble, directed by Scott Cummins
Road Theatre Company • September 9-November 14, 2007 (Opened, rev. 9/14)
WITH Mark Doerr, Taylor Gilbert, Ann Noble, Leon Russom, Mark St. Amant, Stephanie Stearns, Danny
Vasquez PRODUCTION Desma Murphy, set; Gelareh Halioun, costumes; Henry Sume, lights; David B.
Marling, sound; Lee Osteen II, music; Maurie Gonzalez, stage management
Her hair and skin suggest that playwright Ann Noble has Ireland in her bones. But
more importantly for audiences at the current Road Theatre Company production of
her ‘And Neither Do I Have Wings to Fly,’ Ireland and its theater traditions are in the
bones of her writing. Consequently, her one-set, one-family drama is built of sturdy
storytelling technique, effectively exploring how people struggle to recognize and then
loose the tethers that keep them from sailing the wide gulf of their potential.
Iconic Irish elements like liquor, literature, good luck and bad -- but not delimiting themes of church or
political 'troubles' -- give the play more universal relevance. Set in the 1950s, the only hand props are those
used to eat, smoke, drink or read. It frees the play from period, and allows a vibrancy that comes from a
love of storytelling shared by the writer and her characters. It’s the running stitch that gives ‘And Neither’
the tight weave and timelessness of Irish lace.
The action occurs in the week after Moira Donnelly’s death following a three-year illness. It’s the week that
Eveline (Noble), the older of the two surviving daughters, is ignoring a deadline to enroll in a university
literature program. A scholarship to pay for the courses, also expiring, remains hidden from her father,
Peter (Leon Russom), and sister Kathleen (Stephanie Stearns). The three mourners are left to focus
instead on Kate’s imminent wedding to Leo (Danny Vasquez).
Freddy Malone (Mark Doerr), an actor who met Kate the previous summer while touring ‘Tartuffe,’ arrives to
announce he’s back with a tour of ‘Hamlet.’ His seemingly innocent visits to drum up audiences cover an
increasingly obvious desire for Kate. Leo’s brother Charley, a frequent gaol guest and roustabout (a bit
squeaky clean in Mark St. Albans’ otherwise wonderful performance), shows up for the wedding with an
obvious chance at romance for the shut-down Eveline, as well as some useful insight into
Freddy’s claims of fame.
It’s a lot of plot, and there are times in the first act, as the different strands are laid out, that it hardly seems
possible that Noble can give them their due. But she manages to keep them all trimmed and in line, in part
because she keeps what might have become the core story – Eveline's relationship with her mother’s ghost
(Taylor Gilbert) – a sidelight, and focuses instead on how the sisters service or squander their passions.
The entire cast soaks their lines in a natural, uniform brogue supervised by Linda de Vries. For her part,
Stearns allows the relationship with Freddy to evolve unseen. The way her playfulness continues to be
excused by characters and audience creates a seamless descent into a terrible dilemma. It’s a nice
achievement when a two-and-a-half hour play realistically portrays the kind of slow slide that takes weeks
or months in real life. It’s one of the pleasures of Scott Cummin's immensely watchable staging.
The other half of the story’s center is Eveline. The role is even trickier, since Eveline is written as such a
locked-heart-and-tossed-key case. Seeing when the crack in the armor occurs, without making it obvious,
is the challenge. Perhaps better sensing one of those unseen shifts could come in her first real exchange
with Charley. This is the pivotal moment where the script opens the door for the nature of the next
encounter. But Eveline is as stoic as stone masonry. One can easily justify the blankness. But the origin
of Eveline’s emotional lock down needs more insight. As does the reason Eveline so easily caves in to
Freddy’s entrance, after she goes to bar him.
While we feel the spirits of Synge and Friel in the room, Noble beautifully annexes Ibsen territory. And a
century after a similar caretaker named Pegeen Mike collapsed upon losing her ‘Playboy of the Western
World,’ Eveline not only wins her playboy's heart in Charley, she immediately risks losing him so she can
find herself. A well integrated nod to progress in a work that retains such a wide timespan.
The title is taken from ‘The Water is Wide,’ a 400-year-old English song that has been recorded by major
artists like James Taylor, Linda Ronstadt and Bob Dylan. And as the play nears its end, many of the
memorable images and events are recalled in the song’s lyrics delivered in a duet by Rossum and Gilbert.
As they work through the verses, the evening's stories are recalled and folded, like that Irish lace, back into
an area the size of a song. Perhaps the only thing more emotional than a well-rendered Irish story is an
Irish song. Noble gets her desired effect. I’d swear I saw an 11 or 12-year-old lad daubing his ducts as
the curtain call cue came up.
Now there’s a theater award.
Leon Russom
Taylor Gilbert
PHOTO MATT KAISER
Taylor Gilbert
PHOTO MATT KAISER
A Little Night Music
music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, book by Hugh Wheeler, musical direction by Dennis
Castellano, directed by Stefan Novinski
South Coast Repertory • September 7-October 7, 2007 (Opened 9/14; rev. 9/15e)
WITH Christopher Carothers, Misty Cotton, Karen Culliver, Katie Horwitch, Joe Farrell, Mark Jacoby,
Damon Kirsche, Ann Marie Lee, Tracy Lore, Branden McDonald, Kevin Mcmahon, Amanda Naughton, Teri
Ralston, Carolann Sanita, Stephanie Zimbalist ORCHESTRA Dennis Castellano, keyboards; Francine Walsh,
violin; Nancy Stein, cello; Phillip Feather, flute/clarinet/oboe; Keith Bishop, clarinet/English horn/bassoon; Ellie
Choate, harp; Timothy Christensen, bass PRODUCTION Sibyl Wickersheimer, set; Shigeru Yaji, costumes;
Christopher Akerlind, lights; Drew Dalzell, sound; Ken Roht, choreography; Jamie A. Tucker/Jennifer Butler,
stage management.
South Coast Repertory opened its 44th Season Friday with its first large-scale
musical since ‘The Education of Randy Newman’ in 2000 and its first Stephen
Sondheim show since ‘Sunday in the Park with George’ in 1989. The latest, ‘A Little
Night Music,’ through October 7, should satisfy audiences as well as the institution’s
pursuit of great writing. This 1973 collaboration between Sondheim and book-writer
Hugh Wheeler (whose only other teaming was for the magnificent 'Sweeney Todd')
followed ‘Company’ (1970) and ‘Follies’ (1971), and established him for many as
America’s greatest living theatrical composer. Here, under the steady hands of
director Stefan Novinksi and musical director Dennis Castellano, Sondheim’s genius
is as brilliant and inviting as a lover's summer smile.
Sondheim unifies each score around a theme (here it's variations on the sophisticated, hypnotizing three-
quarter meter of the waltz) while carefully fitting the lyrics to his characters. In the world he inherits from
the inspiring Ingmar Bergman film, ‘Smiles of a Summer Night,’ he molds his language to the personalities
and stations within three Swedish households, and then creates a Liebeslieder quintet to serve as Greek
chorus.
Dueling stereotypes of the cool, contemplative Swede versus the impassioned, free-thinking Swede lend
themselves to some of Sondheim's greatest wordplay. The notorious puzzle-lover underscores those
contrasting qualities with musical counterpoint that, for yet another dimension, recalls Mozart's 'Eine Kleine
Nachtmusik' (which gives the show its title). One hears the editing in an over-deliberative man's admission
that “I still want and/or love you,” while jealousy rattles another man's saber and he loses confidence within
a single sentence: “She wouldn't...therefore they didn't... So then it wasn't...not unless it...would she?”
Novinski has assembled a fine cast that let lyrics and dialogue spring from each as a unique soul.
The three groupings of characters are the acclaimed actress Desiree Armfelt (Stephanie Zimbalist), her
dying mother (Teri Ralston), still bursting with memories of scandalous affairs, and her daughter (Kate
Horwitch) a knowing yet innocent teenager. The home of middle-aged lawyer Fredrik Egerman (Mark
Jacoby), consists of his 18-year-old bride Anne (Carolann Sanita), his melancholy son Henrik (Joe Farrell),
and their maid, Petra (Misty Cotton). The third group are an openly adulterous Count (Damon Kirsche) and
his brow-beaten but still-superior wife Charlotte (Amanda Naughton).
Fredrik and Desiree had been lovers, and although it is alluded to in Sondheim’s most famous lyric (“Isn't it
rich? Are we a pair? Me here at last on the ground, You in mid-air.”), the circumstances of their parting
aren’t that clear. When a touring production starring Desiree comes through town, Fredrik is innocently
confronted by the old feelings and visits her backstage, only to find she has become the latest conquest of
the self-indulgent Count. Nevertheless, their easiness with each other soon leads to intimacy.
Stand-outs for this reviewer include Mark Jacoby as Fredrik, believably combining the awareness of his
folly with the inability to resist it. His few interactions with Henrik set up a realistic relationship to create
that hanging scion. Also, Amanda Naughton is wonderful as Charlotte. Naughton comfortably fills out her
character's conflicted nature as one who makes the most of the game handed her, despite being
surrounded by lesser players. Her sense of irony makes a song like “Every Day a Little Death” a special
pleasure. As the Count, Damon Kirsche also moves seamlessly from dialogue through song, transforming
the statements of an egomaniac into the colorful plumage of pomposity. All three are as strong and
nuanced in their acting as in their singing.
Two performers who are stronger singers are Carolann Sanita as Fredrik's young wife, Anne, perhaps the
finest voice on stage, and Misty Cotton, an earthy Petra who gives radiance to “I Will Marry the Miller’s Son.”.
In the central role of Desirée Armfelt, Stephanie Zimbalist is a stronger actress, though still excellent,
particularly when teamed with Jacoby for 'Send in the Clowns,' the show’s (and Sondheim’s) only hit.
Zimbalist also has an uncanny resemblance to Teri Ralston, the great Sondheim veteran who is given the
wheelchair role here. As Madame Armfelt she performs the bittersweet ‘Liaisons,’ another cherished
Sondheim gem that stirs ember beds of memory that mixes once-hot passions with cooling recollection.
If at times a little more urgency might benefit the staging, on whole the pace is balanced and appropriate.
Choreographer Ken Roht, however, understandably hungry for something to do besides stage waltzes,
has mixed success with some back-up singer pantomiming that is utterly out of step with the characters'
individuality. (Unless we rewrite "A Weekend Auditioning for the Pips.")
For those lovers of Sondheim who haven’t hardened their minds around some past perception of
perfection, Novinski, Castellano and company provide ample cause for waltzing. This wonder from a
contemporary American talent who should be revered with the kind of awe given dead Shakespeares and
Sibeliae, is especially beautiful displayed against Sibyl Wickersheimer’s evocative set: A large, empty room
where once extraordinary events offered embrace, now sits in need of freshness. It’s a perfect backdrop
for an evening where relationships end and memories begin.
“In the meanwhile . . . “
music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, book by Hugh Wheeler, musical direction by Dennis
Castellano, directed by Stefan Novinski
South Coast Repertory • September 7-October 7, 2007 (Opened 9/14; rev. 9/15e)
WITH Christopher Carothers, Misty Cotton, Karen Culliver, Katie Horwitch, Joe Farrell, Mark Jacoby,
Damon Kirsche, Ann Marie Lee, Tracy Lore, Branden McDonald, Kevin Mcmahon, Amanda Naughton, Teri
Ralston, Carolann Sanita, Stephanie Zimbalist ORCHESTRA Dennis Castellano, keyboards; Francine Walsh,
violin; Nancy Stein, cello; Phillip Feather, flute/clarinet/oboe; Keith Bishop, clarinet/English horn/bassoon; Ellie
Choate, harp; Timothy Christensen, bass PRODUCTION Sibyl Wickersheimer, set; Shigeru Yaji, costumes;
Christopher Akerlind, lights; Drew Dalzell, sound; Ken Roht, choreography; Jamie A. Tucker/Jennifer Butler,
stage management.
South Coast Repertory opened its 44th Season Friday with its first large-scale
musical since ‘The Education of Randy Newman’ in 2000 and its first Stephen
Sondheim show since ‘Sunday in the Park with George’ in 1989. The latest, ‘A Little
Night Music,’ through October 7, should satisfy audiences as well as the institution’s
pursuit of great writing. This 1973 collaboration between Sondheim and book-writer
Hugh Wheeler (whose only other teaming was for the magnificent 'Sweeney Todd')
followed ‘Company’ (1970) and ‘Follies’ (1971), and established him for many as
America’s greatest living theatrical composer. Here, under the steady hands of
director Stefan Novinksi and musical director Dennis Castellano, Sondheim’s genius
is as brilliant and inviting as a lover's summer smile.
Sondheim unifies each score around a theme (here it's variations on the sophisticated, hypnotizing three-
quarter meter of the waltz) while carefully fitting the lyrics to his characters. In the world he inherits from
the inspiring Ingmar Bergman film, ‘Smiles of a Summer Night,’ he molds his language to the personalities
and stations within three Swedish households, and then creates a Liebeslieder quintet to serve as Greek
chorus.
Dueling stereotypes of the cool, contemplative Swede versus the impassioned, free-thinking Swede lend
themselves to some of Sondheim's greatest wordplay. The notorious puzzle-lover underscores those
contrasting qualities with musical counterpoint that, for yet another dimension, recalls Mozart's 'Eine Kleine
Nachtmusik' (which gives the show its title). One hears the editing in an over-deliberative man's admission
that “I still want and/or love you,” while jealousy rattles another man's saber and he loses confidence within
a single sentence: “She wouldn't...therefore they didn't... So then it wasn't...not unless it...would she?”
Novinski has assembled a fine cast that let lyrics and dialogue spring from each as a unique soul.
The three groupings of characters are the acclaimed actress Desiree Armfelt (Stephanie Zimbalist), her
dying mother (Teri Ralston), still bursting with memories of scandalous affairs, and her daughter (Kate
Horwitch) a knowing yet innocent teenager. The home of middle-aged lawyer Fredrik Egerman (Mark
Jacoby), consists of his 18-year-old bride Anne (Carolann Sanita), his melancholy son Henrik (Joe Farrell),
and their maid, Petra (Misty Cotton). The third group are an openly adulterous Count (Damon Kirsche) and
his brow-beaten but still-superior wife Charlotte (Amanda Naughton).
Fredrik and Desiree had been lovers, and although it is alluded to in Sondheim’s most famous lyric (“Isn't it
rich? Are we a pair? Me here at last on the ground, You in mid-air.”), the circumstances of their parting
aren’t that clear. When a touring production starring Desiree comes through town, Fredrik is innocently
confronted by the old feelings and visits her backstage, only to find she has become the latest conquest of
the self-indulgent Count. Nevertheless, their easiness with each other soon leads to intimacy.
Stand-outs for this reviewer include Mark Jacoby as Fredrik, believably combining the awareness of his
folly with the inability to resist it. His few interactions with Henrik set up a realistic relationship to create
that hanging scion. Also, Amanda Naughton is wonderful as Charlotte. Naughton comfortably fills out her
character's conflicted nature as one who makes the most of the game handed her, despite being
surrounded by lesser players. Her sense of irony makes a song like “Every Day a Little Death” a special
pleasure. As the Count, Damon Kirsche also moves seamlessly from dialogue through song, transforming
the statements of an egomaniac into the colorful plumage of pomposity. All three are as strong and
nuanced in their acting as in their singing.
Two performers who are stronger singers are Carolann Sanita as Fredrik's young wife, Anne, perhaps the
finest voice on stage, and Misty Cotton, an earthy Petra who gives radiance to “I Will Marry the Miller’s Son.”.
In the central role of Desirée Armfelt, Stephanie Zimbalist is a stronger actress, though still excellent,
particularly when teamed with Jacoby for 'Send in the Clowns,' the show’s (and Sondheim’s) only hit.
Zimbalist also has an uncanny resemblance to Teri Ralston, the great Sondheim veteran who is given the
wheelchair role here. As Madame Armfelt she performs the bittersweet ‘Liaisons,’ another cherished
Sondheim gem that stirs ember beds of memory that mixes once-hot passions with cooling recollection.
If at times a little more urgency might benefit the staging, on whole the pace is balanced and appropriate.
Choreographer Ken Roht, however, understandably hungry for something to do besides stage waltzes,
has mixed success with some back-up singer pantomiming that is utterly out of step with the characters'
individuality. (Unless we rewrite "A Weekend Auditioning for the Pips.")
For those lovers of Sondheim who haven’t hardened their minds around some past perception of
perfection, Novinski, Castellano and company provide ample cause for waltzing. This wonder from a
contemporary American talent who should be revered with the kind of awe given dead Shakespeares and
Sibeliae, is especially beautiful displayed against Sibyl Wickersheimer’s evocative set: A large, empty room
where once extraordinary events offered embrace, now sits in need of freshness. It’s a perfect backdrop
for an evening where relationships end and memories begin.
“In the meanwhile . . . “
Damon Kirsche
Amanda Naughton
Stephanie Zimbalist
Mark Jacoby
(from top)
PHOTO HENRY DiROCCO
Amanda Naughton
Stephanie Zimbalist
Mark Jacoby
(from top)
PHOTO HENRY DiROCCO
Steve Vinovich
Kyle Coleridger-Krugh
PHOTO CHRISTOPHER TRELA
Kyle Coleridger-Krugh
PHOTO CHRISTOPHER TRELA
Art
by Yasmina Reza, translated by Christopher Hampton, directed by Andrew Barnicle
Laguna Playhouse • September 11-October 14 (Opened 9/15, rev. 9/16m)
WITH Kyle Coleridger-Krugh, John Herzog, Steve Vinovich PRODUCTION Dwight Richard Odle,
set/costumes; Paulie Jenkins, lights; David Edwards, sound; Vernon Willet/Victoria A. Gathe, stage
management
A modern painting that pushes the limits of credulity for two of three best friends,
stress tests their relationships and opens an exploration of male bonding in Yasmina
Reza’s famous ‘Art,’ which opened over the weekend at the Laguna Playhouse under
Andrew Barnicle’s direction. 'Art,' forever embossed for those who saw it by the
Broadway production with Victor Garber, Alan Alda and most indelibly Alfred Molina,
still has plenty of power to stimulate audiences. The potential for insight in follow-up
productions like Laguna's attractive mounting, rests with the chemistry of the actors.
Barnicle has cast Steve Vinovich as Serge, a middle-aged divorcée who has spent a fortune to own a
decades-old painting by a hot, if trendy artist. Its canvas is so subtly painted, textured and designed that it
looks completely white to his friends (and, on Dwight Richard Odle's sleek set, to the audience). John
Herzog is Marc, the married, intellectual, self-appointed alpha male of the group. Marc is launched to high
dudgeon as soon as he sees the painting. Because all modern art is outside his comfort zone, he sees this
art as an act of secession by a man he saw as a mentee. The third and shortest leg on Reza’s buddy-stool
is Ivan, played by Kyle Coleridger-Krugh. Ivan, who will soon be married to a woman the others paint as
domineering, is soon revealed as an inveterate invertebrate when it comes to friend or fiancé.
As a fan of Vinovich after enjoying him in Pacific Resident Theatre’s ‘The 60s,’ I liked his affable approach to
Serge. Herzog portrays Marc as more bitter and humorless than I’ve seen him– either by Alda or SCR’s
John de Lancie. Consequently, without a visible clue to what made him worth warming up to originally, he
really seems to be overstepping his boundaries in the selfish manipulation of his friend. He's appears to be
less about helping a friend out of an 'Emperor's New Clothes' episode, and more about re-establishing his
own mastery as mentor. Without better balance between the two, Marc's declaration that, “I detest your
independence. You’ve abandoned me” pretty much answers the question of who's out for his own ends.
To the extent that a script is a blank canvas and actors color their characters, who gains the upper hand in
any accusation of folly may come down to who is the more likeable character. Who would you want to end
the night as a friend? Here, the house favors Vinovich’s Serge.
As Ivan, Coleridger-Krugh is outside the basic battle, trying to avoid being dragged in. So Reza gives the
actor a couple of lengthy, funny monologues. The actor delivers them well by and gets a deserved round of
applause.
A fundamental ingredient of traditional painting is perspective, created by use of vanishing points. The point
of ‘Art’ hasn’t disappeared, even if it is a little cloudy here. Art is personal; art is universal. That’s what
attracts Serge to his painting and should drawn audiences to this production. The familiar male jockeying for
validation and primacy are subtly etched, and Barnicle keeps the focus in the right place as we watch them
circle each other. But like the not-quite-white painting, the conversation can appear one dimensional if not in
the right light. Just because something is made of a single color, it doesn’t need to be monotonous.
by Yasmina Reza, translated by Christopher Hampton, directed by Andrew Barnicle
Laguna Playhouse • September 11-October 14 (Opened 9/15, rev. 9/16m)
WITH Kyle Coleridger-Krugh, John Herzog, Steve Vinovich PRODUCTION Dwight Richard Odle,
set/costumes; Paulie Jenkins, lights; David Edwards, sound; Vernon Willet/Victoria A. Gathe, stage
management
A modern painting that pushes the limits of credulity for two of three best friends,
stress tests their relationships and opens an exploration of male bonding in Yasmina
Reza’s famous ‘Art,’ which opened over the weekend at the Laguna Playhouse under
Andrew Barnicle’s direction. 'Art,' forever embossed for those who saw it by the
Broadway production with Victor Garber, Alan Alda and most indelibly Alfred Molina,
still has plenty of power to stimulate audiences. The potential for insight in follow-up
productions like Laguna's attractive mounting, rests with the chemistry of the actors.
Barnicle has cast Steve Vinovich as Serge, a middle-aged divorcée who has spent a fortune to own a
decades-old painting by a hot, if trendy artist. Its canvas is so subtly painted, textured and designed that it
looks completely white to his friends (and, on Dwight Richard Odle's sleek set, to the audience). John
Herzog is Marc, the married, intellectual, self-appointed alpha male of the group. Marc is launched to high
dudgeon as soon as he sees the painting. Because all modern art is outside his comfort zone, he sees this
art as an act of secession by a man he saw as a mentee. The third and shortest leg on Reza’s buddy-stool
is Ivan, played by Kyle Coleridger-Krugh. Ivan, who will soon be married to a woman the others paint as
domineering, is soon revealed as an inveterate invertebrate when it comes to friend or fiancé.
As a fan of Vinovich after enjoying him in Pacific Resident Theatre’s ‘The 60s,’ I liked his affable approach to
Serge. Herzog portrays Marc as more bitter and humorless than I’ve seen him– either by Alda or SCR’s
John de Lancie. Consequently, without a visible clue to what made him worth warming up to originally, he
really seems to be overstepping his boundaries in the selfish manipulation of his friend. He's appears to be
less about helping a friend out of an 'Emperor's New Clothes' episode, and more about re-establishing his
own mastery as mentor. Without better balance between the two, Marc's declaration that, “I detest your
independence. You’ve abandoned me” pretty much answers the question of who's out for his own ends.
To the extent that a script is a blank canvas and actors color their characters, who gains the upper hand in
any accusation of folly may come down to who is the more likeable character. Who would you want to end
the night as a friend? Here, the house favors Vinovich’s Serge.
As Ivan, Coleridger-Krugh is outside the basic battle, trying to avoid being dragged in. So Reza gives the
actor a couple of lengthy, funny monologues. The actor delivers them well by and gets a deserved round of
applause.
A fundamental ingredient of traditional painting is perspective, created by use of vanishing points. The point
of ‘Art’ hasn’t disappeared, even if it is a little cloudy here. Art is personal; art is universal. That’s what
attracts Serge to his painting and should drawn audiences to this production. The familiar male jockeying for
validation and primacy are subtly etched, and Barnicle keeps the focus in the right place as we watch them
circle each other. But like the not-quite-white painting, the conversation can appear one dimensional if not in
the right light. Just because something is made of a single color, it doesn’t need to be monotonous.
T H E A T E R T I M E S . O R G
T H E A T E R T I M E S . O R G
T H E A T E R T I M E S . O R G
T H E A T E R T I M E S . O R G
T H E A T E R T I M E S . O R G
T H E A T E R T I M E S . O R G
