Theater Reviews
By Grace Cavalieri
FLY HIGH THE FLAG OF
FABULOUS: New, Original, Provocative, Brilliant Plays are HERE.
CONTEMPORARY AMERICAN THEATER FESTIVAL
in Shepherdstown, West
Virginia July 8-31 CATF.ORG 304-876- 3473/ 800.999.CATF.
(World Theatre Day 2016 announced the ten top theater festivals in the world in
: Ireland, Germany,
France, Austria, Switzerland Serbia, Canada, NYC, Massachusetts, and
SHEPHERDSTOWN, WEST
VIRGINIA, on the campus of Shepherd University.)
Five New American Plays include three World Premieres*: Not Medea* by Allison
Gregory; The
Wedding Gift* by Chisa Hutchinson; 20 th Century Blues* by Susan Miller; The
Second Girl by Ronan
Noone, pen/man/ship by Christina Anderson.
Presented by Ed Herendeen, Producing Director and Director
+++++++++++++++
Not Medea, by Allison
Gregory, directed by Courtney Sale. (Place CATF. Time ,Now)
Cast: Woman, Joey Parsons; Jason, Ben Chase; Chorus, Rachael Balcanoff
As the lights lower on a stylish/classical/modern set, a latecomer barges in,
stumbling over
seats, dropping bundles and umbrella, talking to the audience, apologizing for
her intrusion.
She’s interrupted by cell phone calls come from her daughter, a child left
alone, by the way.
(…she just had to get out of the house you know how it is with kids always
pestering …) Her
story becomes the overarching scaffolding for the play: the present-day
situation is one where
the husband’s left her for another woman and our theater-goer (combination of
Carol Burnett
and Roseanne Barr), in telling her story, gradually becomes the outraged Medea.
Her
transformation is a tour de force by actor Joey Parsons, dressing in classical
costume – ridiculing
Medea, while replicating her. The monologue is a mix of street talk and lyrical
language,
combining a tired single mom and the greatest murderess of all time. The under
current is the
real-life tragedy suffered by this woman who’s lost a child accidentally , not
her fault, but
blamed for her death. The chorus-of- one (the crystalline Rachael Balcanoff)
serves as
connective tissue between time and action.
On comes Jason, big, sexy, tattooed, black leathered. He’s a dude, and a hunk.
Medea says “I
wasn’t a goddess. He made me one.” There’s a nice moment enacting the first rush
of love;
Medea and Jason each hold a tiny bird—she marvels at its fragility. He crushes
it thoughtlessly.
Jason’s ambitious, and Medea makes him invincible, with the Golden Fleece,
allowing him to
supersede her father’s demands; now they can marry and be happy. He thinks she’s
more
“amazing” each time she flatters him. Medea says “Nothing but death will ever
come between
us.” They move to Corinth but she’s miserable. Jason says ,”You’ll get used to
it. Buck up.” But
he’s already bucked up, He’s sleeping with another, the Princess of Corinth.
Jason doesn’t know why women get all bent out of shape when husbands sleep with
other
women and then marry them; but Medea is serious now, as she prepares a poisoned
shawl for
Jason’s new bride. Jason says of Medea, “You come on too strong. You’re too
willful. “
“How better to wound my husband then to take his children.”
Although playwright Gregory masterfully manages the Medea character without
schizophrenia,
and brilliantly combines humor and tragedy, she also throws a shade. Why did the
woman
leave her child unattended to come to the theater? Is the present day Medea
without blame?
Are all Mothers carrying Medea’s original sin? This same Mother, in the final
scene, ascends as
a goddess of vengeance in full funeral regalia with bloodied hands, vindicated,
and alone.
The actors work with rhythm, exuberance, and accuracy for an electrifying
experience.
+++++++++++++
The Wedding Gift by Chisa
Hutchison directed by May Adrales. (Setting; Time: “A
far off place, so far in the future, it’s stupid”)
Chisa Hutchison must be from a star planet, because she brought that planet
on-stage. This is
the most singly original work I’ve seen in a long time. It bubbles. It bursts.
It’s the imagination
unleashed, and I marvel with gratitude that CATF had the ability to see how to
produce this.
Doug,(Jason Babinsky,) a white guy is brought into a culture of glamorous
people-of- color, who
live in a fantastic world of grandeur. He’s brought, by the way, in a golden
cage, and also by
the way, he’s quite naked except for an elegant loincloth. Where is he? Who are
these people
in their science fiction Versace’s; and what do they want with him? It turns out
he’s been
“found” and is now to be the family pet –this shackled divorced guy from the USA
with a six-
year-old kid back home somewhere— is to be a fuck-toy. Did I say that all the
characters but
Doug speak a made-up language? A stylish combination of French, Splanish and God
knows
what –and only through gesture can communication occur. The Princess of this
epitomized
society is marrying Prince Beshrum (Powerful Damian Thompson,) in the highest of
all styles—
but in bed he doesn’t get it, and so she wants to resort to her boy toy. All
this time Doug
(Babinsky) is hilariously trying to break the golden chain that binds.
Of course, it’s about serious questions of domination and submission, the master
and the slave;
but in another time and sphere and another hemisphere, playwright animates the
problem. Our
tethered victim is befriended by a “citizen” who’s a daughter of another ”found
pet “and she
speaks Doug’s language. Sadly she loses her life in trying to help him. My
favorite scene is when
the “doctor of pets” (played to the top, by Edward O’Blenis) interprets for
Princess Nahlis (the
adorable Margaret Ivey.) Doug finally understands, “You consider me an animal,
less than
human,” but the Princess has taken a liking to him. He bargains with her (via
the Vet) to stay 10
days, and even without common verbiage we see a bond beginning to form, through
tenderness and playfulness—the common language of love.
A wonderful scene is GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER when Princess Nahlis brings
Doug to
meet Mom and Dad. It does not go well, but our Romeo and Juliet of gibberish
land vow to
escape! And they do! Through a magic toilet! (I told you this play was
terrific.) They find
themselves in a paradisiacal forest. There’s a flower Doug recognizes from earth
and Nahlis
gestures that this is where Doug was found. He’d been frozen in the ground when
apparently
the sun had gone out, and the earth was covered with ice. “So I’m a human
fossil,” he realizes.
We can only say that sometimes it takes centuries for cultures to blend; and
this apparently
wasn’t one of them—However, this is a sweet fantasy (with a serious premise)
beautifully
orchestrated and paced. A spectacle on a magnificent scale.
+++++++++++++++++
pen/man/ship by Christina
Anderson, directed by Lucie Tiberghien. (Setting; Time:
“A worn whaling shop on the Atlantic Ocean, September through November, 1896,
after the Jim Crow
Laws were upheld as constitutional”)
This is a perfectly built play. This play honors language; and presents us with
impeccably drawn
characters. The ship’s log begins in 1896 when a religious man, Charles
(passionately played by
Brian D. Coats) leads an expedition to Liberia with a full crew aboard. Also on
board are his son,
Jacob, and the woman he brought with him, Ruby (Margaret Ivey) who seeks escape
from an
America whose cruelty she’s experienced. The play is poetic with movement and
meaning. We
begin the journey with a single sail overhead, and a stage that's ankle-deep
with water. Charles
is a surveyor traveling to Africa to plan a building. This pious, unctuous
father is having a Bible
discussion with a dutiful son Jacob, (played beautifully by Damien Thompson.)
Jacob introduces
Ruby to his father who’s not all that happy to find that Ruby hasn’t brought a
Bible with her. He
immediately sees her as a renegade. Although she’s invited to join the
discussion, the way Ruby
quotes the Bible angers Charles, and although confronted, she holds her power,
interpreting
verse in an enlightened fashion. It’ clear she’s an enemy to “The Word” and thus
to his son.
Charles, in his supercilious religiosity, is not liked by the crew. He remains
alone, contemptuous
of men whom he feels are “heathens and savages.” There’s one exception and
that’s crew
member Cecil (beguiling Edward O’Blenis) who is allowed to play his accordion,
and so is loyal
to Charles. Jacob’s torn in half, wanting to prove Ruby’s independence and
intelligence, while
trying to restrain her boldness.
As October comes, relationships worsen: Jacob, Charles, and Ruby become a
triangle, always an
odd one out. Ruby has leadership skills and becomes the spokesperson for the
crew— she eats
with them and she listens to them, respects their humanity. Rumor is that the
journey has been
funded by whites and that Charles is preparing to build a penal colony for
blacks from America:
“colored thugs,” he calls them. The prison will be “for those Negroes who do not
deserve what
respectable ones do.”
Charles’ reliance on gin fuels his paranoia; and when he thinks a young man is
threatening him,
Charles pushes him overboard; then cuts his own chest to fake a struggle.
Charles is going mad
with hatred; the crew insists on a tribunal; so he sequesters himself with
Cecil, barricaded from
the others. Ruby maintains that she’ll have “her crew” drop sail unless Charles
opens the door,
and submit to an inquiry. For 10 days, without sail, they are adrift – running
out of rations.
Charles is insane but resolute; and Ruby is equally stubborn. We should note, at
any time Ruby
could have the crew members lift the sails and prevent impending tragedy. The
playwright
creates an equal conflict creating a perfect tension. The alcoholic Charles is
finally conquered by
his need for gin. He ends in chains, righteous, broken, and deluded.
Elegantly written, and breathtakingly directed and acted, this one’s got it all.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
20 th Century Blues, by
Susan Miller, directed by Ed Herendeen.
“Setting&Time: The present, during a Ted talk. Then four months earlier in
the course of a day in NYC.”
We can always expect a great opening under Herendeen’s direction. Photographer
Danny,
stands before a gigantic word “TED” about to give her talk on photography, and
delivers an
opening monologue about "what we are remembered for; The scene that follows
is a
technically stunning use of projection to create space and place.
Then the play opens to four women in reunion, all middle-age, about to be
photographed by
Danny in a final series on aging—a series from the 1970’s to present day. Mac
(Franchelle
Stewart Dorn) is a reporter about to retire from a job that defines her life.
Gabby (Kathryn
Grody) is a veterinarian, practicing to be a widow, because one can’t start too
early; Sil
(Alexandra Neil) is a realtor who’s about to have plastic surgery so she can
face the business
world, refreshed. These friends of 40 years gathered for a new photo shoot to
see how they’ve
weather time— but instead— they’re suddenly not willing to subject their faces
to public
scrutiny. Who knew this was to be on video circulated worldwide via a TED TALK?
No, they do
not want to sign the releases. The play is witty and stylish, and manages to
raise some
interesting questions about time. One of the more subtle idea s is whether the
image of the
thing is the thing itself. More practical is a question raised about the value
of marking ;Time’s
passage;
The photographer, Danny, sees her three friends as a timetable to be studied and
documented.
There’s a pervasive fear of age shared by all. The women are not willing to sign
releases, and
doubt the integrity of the project.
Old times crop up— old hurts –old loves. No one can feel fully comfortable in
life not knowing
“what comes next,” especially in photos to be shared with the world. To stem the
discord,
Danny brings in past photos never seen by the women, and they fall in love with
their past
camaraderie. Many topical issues transvers the day – a transgender
granddaughter, a
demented mother (wonderfully played by Mary Suib,) an adopted son, a gay
marriage. Most
importantly, though, is the idea of memory and what versions of ourselves are
the real
versions, as we are all moving toward technology, not knowing what can possibly
come next.
These women actors are consistently excellent in elevating the play’s themes,
and letting us
pretend the clock doesn’t matter, at least during this performance.
__________________
Grace Cavalieri founded, and still produces, “The Poet and the Poem“ for public
radio, now from the
Library of Congress, celebrating 39 years on-air. Her new book of poems is WITH
(Somondoco Press,
2016.) Regrettably, a family emergency prohibited seeing and reviewing “The
Second Girl “by Ronan Noone.
All reprinted from danmurano.com