This post had inadvertently been misplaced. I felt I wanted to post it even though it was originally written in January 2007.
I have spent a considerable amount of time in my own career and certainly through this platform exploring and questioning genres of magic and themes that have, at their core, elements of magic and/or magic realism. It is perhaps because I spent my childhood years reading stories from the classic literary canon of children’s literature—works by Andersen, Grimm, Grahame, Tolkien and contemporary writers such as McCaffrey, Asimov, LeGuin, Cooper among others. It is this element of magic, of the dark mysterious unknown that draws me to these stories. It is this mystery that often compels a second read or tenth. And it is what intrigues me when a theatre company geared for children and families decides to commission and produce a large scale production that deals with magic in a society that spends an inordinate amount of time kowtowing to religious conservative organizations and political action committees bent on re-writing history and obliterating the marvel that is the childhood imagination.
In the recent production by Seattle Children’s Theatre, Linda Hartzell weaves a magical spell with her theatre’s premiere of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice—by playwright OyamO with music by Carman Moore. In brief, the story follows a young boy, Charles as he struggles to find acceptance and a place in his world. He wanders into a magical forest with talking flora and fauna to the garden of the Sorceress Marguerite. He asks for a job as her apprentice and with considerable persuasion is given three chores/chances to prove himself. Marguerite warns though that if he disappoints her, even once, that she will send Charles packing. Charles accepts this challenge, but because he is a head-strong young boy with ambition and attitude in abundance, his greed and arrogance begin to get the better of him. He is tricked by Jeremy Groundhog into pulling up spinach rather than weeds in the garden. He is tricked by the minions of Big John King, an evil sorcerer bent on stealing Marguerite’s magic—failing to deliver special herbs as directed by Marguerite. And in a final task to clean Marguerite’s magic chamber, Charles’ curiosity gets the better of him and he tries to use his untrained magic. The result is a magical deluge of streaming water from many sources within the room. Marguerite enters in the nick-of-time and puts all to rights. In her anger and disappointment she tells Charles to leave.
In his anger, Charles falls under the influence of Big John King. He agrees to switch out the magic stone in Marguerite’s turban that will weaken and diminish her power thus giving Big John the upper hand to rule over the magic forrest and land. Marguerite places the turban on her head unaware that Charles has snuck into her chamber to make the switch. Her powers falter and Big John makes his move in a battle of magic between the two sorcerers. At the last moment when it looks like Marguerite will fail in her struggle to defeat her enemy, Charles reenters and takes responsibility for his actions by finding the strength and his own magic to save Marguerite and defeat Big John King. Marguerite sees that Charles has taken a very important step in becoming a more responsible individual and appoints Charles as her official Apprentice.
In the usual high standards of the Seattle Children’s Theatre, this new production is a feast for the eyes and for the most part ears of its young audience and their families.
The designs, both scenic and costumes are by the designers who brought last season’s production of Sleeping Beauty to life—Carey Wong and Catherine Hunt respectively.
The set design is very similar to Sleeping Beauty and seemed to utilize many of the larger scenic elements such as the tracking “inner-stage” and several rolling pieces. What I love about Mr. Wong’s designs is his attention to detail—cut drops, flown pieces and the meticulous care in the props all help to create a visually stunning world. The same can be said for the imaginative costumes that, even from the back of the house where I was sitting, were obviously of great complexity utilizing many tricks of the costume technology trade with elaborate headpieces, built in armatures and wonderful use of textural and patterned fabrics. There is always a richness to the magical productions helmed by Ms. Hartzel. Kudos too to the lighting team for creating atmospheric lighting as well as the vibrant scenes that included musical numbers with movement and choreography. The lighting was also a great asset to the magic effects used throughout the production.
The music was some of the best that I have heard from SCT premiere productions of late. There was a cohesion to the music by composer Carman Moore influenced by southern jazz, Cajun, Caribbean and Latin Rhythms that really helped to solidify the unexpected setting of this fanciful tale in what appeared to by Louisiana or perhaps Mississippi. There was bit of an anachronism with some of the dialogue coupled with the undefined time period, music, and the designs but it didn’t hurt the overall production or hinder the creativity of the production team.
As usual, this public performance was nearly filled a week before the end of the run. I would estimate that the house was at seventy per-cent occupancy plus or minus. After a series of performance cancellation due to the very strange winter weather we had been having in the Pacific Northwest this past winter, I wondered how this figured into this particular performance’s attendance numbers, but the crowd was enthusiastic, filled with children anxious to find just the right seat. I always enjoy listening to the children as they shuttle past me down the aisles as they discuss with their friends, siblings or parental units the pros and cons of locations. The children that have attended regularly will undoubtedly quip that the seats they had for ‘such and such’ were much better than the ones they had for ‘this or that.’ SCT employs festival seating with the center section designated as “A” and the two side audience sections designated as “B.” Beyond that, it is the responsibility of the patron to sit in their appropriate sections. I heard at least a handful of children correcting their adult counterparts as to the “correct” section that they must sit. Allowing their younger patrons to learn the value of honesty and responsibility in such a simple way can not be underestimated. If only the adults could learn by the example set by the children it would be a wonderful experience for all.
I hope the reader will forgive me when I get on my soap box to lament the common sense of decency that parents of toddlers and babes in arms seem to be guilty of when attending the theatre. I have seen it countless times—a parent that allows a toddler to slink out of their laps to then go traipsing up and down the aisles with the inevitable parent trying, as unobtrusively as possible, to corral the child back into their arms to then return to their seats to then have the whole sequence repeat itself. At this particular performance, a woman fitting the description above, sitting in the front row of the house- left section of the audience spent the whole first act of the play trying to restrain a young toddler completely oblivious to the action onstage. What this did for me and I’m assuming the several hundred people who were sitting behind her, was to provide an unforgivable distraction to what would have been a very well-mannered audience. To his credit, the House Manager did slide in through a side door to ask her to keep the child in her seat after managing to wander onto one of the far downstage right playing spaces.
As someone with an extensive background in theatre, it amazes me that people still think that this behavior is acceptable. To think that the performers can’t see you might seem plausible especially with certain lighting, etc. but to just assume this as a blanket truth needs to STOP! The actors CAN see you; they CAN hear you and your talking, and cell phone ringing and candy wrapper twisting. And guess what? The audience CAN hear and see you too! We see the announcements at the beginnings of films as slides or moving images—some are even crafted now to dupe the audience initially into thinking they are watching a movie trailer. As the young protagonist from The Sorcerer’s Apprentice would say, “Golly-gee something!.” Is this really necessary?! Shouldn’t we all know better as adults?! Common manners, courtesy and decency is a learned behavior; taught by example.
Getting back to my initial thesis pondering how a professional theatre would choose repeatedly to produce plays dealing with magic; Seattle Children’s Theatre should be applauded not only for its quality product, but for its unflinching courage in producing plays that do not shy away from the wonder of magic and its place in the intellect and imagination of young people. I would say that Seattle is a very sensible community unwavering in its, dare I say it, liberal pragmatism. But I fear that even here in Western Washington the cloud of social and intellectual conservatism has shadowed somewhat of late the freedom that has been taken for granted for far too long. I’m hearing now every other day about yet another school board that is questioning and black-listing Al Gore’s documentary An Inconvenient Truth. Will the libraries, the theatres and the other avenues of humanistic education be next? Until then, we must support in any way we can those organizations that carry on the good work and the struggle to keep the wonder, imagination and innocence of childhood alive and healthy.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Goodnight Moon
“If you can conceive it, you can achieve it!”
With the world-premiere of Goodnight Moon, Seattle Children’s Theatre has proven this theorem by creating one of the most delightful and charming theatrical experiences in recent memory. Based on the beloved children’s book written sixty years ago by Margaret Wise Brown with pictures by Clement Hurd; Linda Hartzell’s team of creative wizards have succeeded in capturing all the charm and magic that has captured the imagination of several generations of children. With script, music and lyrics penned by long-time SCT collaborator Chad Henry, this new adaptation should have a life and success beyond the premiere at least as long as the book itself if not longer.
The magic at the heart of this gentle little story is the innocent imagination of the little bunny that sleeps in the green room that is his nursery. One of the charming devices of Margaret Brown’s books for children is her device of making the protagonist and many of the other characters animals. The SCT production honors this device using four actors to portray or manipulate the characters or puppets respectively. The costumes by Linda Ross subtly represent each of the animals while not becoming cliché animal costumes allowing the smaller children in the audience to fully utilize their imagination to “conceive” each of these characters.
And that is what is truly remarkable about the production—the extent to which the young audience is asked to journey with the bunny into his imagination. I attended a weekday matinee that was filled with parents and children ranging in age from pre-K through upper elementary. The production played in SCT’s Eve Alvord Theatre that is the smaller of their two venues seating 275 on comfortable raked bench seating. The stage is very small at forty feet wide and twenty-two feet deep. With a full boxed set like the one for Goodnight Moon, the playing space is reduced even more.
As mentioned earlier, the scenic design by Jennifer Lupton takes the simple illustrations by Clement Hurd and places it in three dimensions right before the audience in this very intimate setting. The magic and imagination of the design team is revealed in stages throughout the production. It seems clear to me that the team used the illustrations as a spring board as to how they might create a full length musical from a book with so little text. Literally every element of the design is either used or manipulated by the actors or offstage puppeteers. The pictures in the little bunny’s room reveal inner stages where puppets interact with the performers onstage. The moon and stars appear, disappear and move within the large picture windows upstage. The mantle clock and urns dance and move. The stuffed toys are manipulated by actors and the mouse and cats that inhabit the bunny’s playroom are simple puppets that are manipulated by the performers not unlike the way in which children play at dolls or with their stuffed animals when left to their own imaginations.
I have seen numerous productions now that have utilized puppets created by Doug Paasch for SCT productions; puppets ranging in complexity from the magical over-sized Dragon in The Magic City to an amazing giant spider in last season’s production of Sleeping Beauty to this production where simple stuffed rag dolls and animals create a touching and lyrical vignette with only a simple lullaby sung by the actors who simultaneously manipulate the soft toys. This moment came almost at the very end of the performance and even though it seemed to be the major wiggle spot for the smaller children, the older children and adults were mesmerized by the hypnotic quality. I certainly understand why it falls where it does in the script leading to the final denouement of the story, but I fear that it will cause the vignette/song to be perceived as a false ending. I also wonder how the moments with no dialogue will end up on the page once the script is published (and there is no doubt that it will.)
As to the script itself, the story, as fleshed out by Chad Henry moves along at a nice pace with approximately 12-15 songs spaced evenly throughout. The musical numbers, ranging from soft beautiful lullabies to Jolson-esque soft-shoe to jazzy rag and to a rousing tap section with the Three Bears; allow the story to move along while adding not only to the imagination of the Bunny, but to the young members of the audience. From the moment where the primary characters are introduced—Bunny, Mouse, two Cats and the Old Woman-that-says-“Shhhh,” the audience is clearly meant to associate with Bunny and his unwillingness to go to sleep. As anyone who has children or remembers their own childhood, no matter how long ago; the universal truth regarding a child’s unwillingness to shut their eyes and go to sleep will resonate strongly. The humor of the Little Bunny as he tries valiantly to keep the covers over him, to struggle with a pillow that has a life of its own, to talking in imaginary gibberish with his ever-present Red Balloon, the pathos, sight-gags and intricate puppetry all serve to enhance rather than distract from the momentum of the story such as it is.
There are not many theatres that can pull off such extraordinary feats of magic with such ease, and the resources of SCT—the designers, the shops and their artisans deserve high praise for creating this delightful masterwork. A few of the highlights of this production include a black-light soft shoe number within one of the picture windows where the audience sees only a pair of white feet and white hands in the “Mr. Nobody” song reminiscent of “Mr. Celophane” from the musical Chicago; the three musical numbers with the ensemble portraying members of a circus supporting the puppet-show of Clarabelle the Cow as she attempts to jump over the moon; a very delightful number “Never Get Away” featuring Bunny and Ensemble in front of a giant book that is pulled out of the wall that becomes the backdrop for the song. This section pays homage to other books by Margaret Brown and Clement Hurd such as Runaway Bunny with pages that are turned by the performers, each becoming a backdrop for the verses of the song. And as I mentioned earlier there were several humorous and touching vignettes with Bunny interacting with magical sight-gags or simple puppet moments that were pure theatre magic.
I had been eager to see this production as reviews had been pouring in from sources all around the
Goodnight Moon continued its run through March 10th, 2007 at Seattle Children’s Theatre.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Exploring The Dark
Never a company to shy away from challenging themes and plot lines, Seattle Children’s Theatre proved their mettle yet again with two recent productions—British playwright, Charles Way’s Sleeping Beauty with new music by Chad Henry and a new production, the world premiere of The Devil and Daniel Webster by Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright, Robert Schenkkan. Both plays tackled themes that some might consider dark but both were striking in their approach and both held their audience’s attention throughout.
In SCT’s production of Sleeping Beauty, directed by Artistic Associate Rita Giomi, Charles Way has written an adaptation that is Spartan in its cast size focusing on the characters and relationships in the small fairytale kingdom. In his version of this classic tale, the young Briar Rose is head strong with a free spirit that, at first glass, doesn’t seem to need saving. The Prince, on the other hand, seems a bit feckless and in need of saving himself. But this adaptation focuses on the blooming relationship of these two characters. The plot line is similar to many others with the antagonist role filled by the snubbed and jealous evil sorceress Modron who decides to cast a spell on the unsuspecting King and Queen’s new child. The good sorceress counters this magical curse with her spell sending all in the kingdom to sleep once Briar Rose pricks her finger on that fateful birthday on the needle of a spinning wheel.
With only seven actors in the ensemble, Charles Way’s adaptation is swift and to the point. Only a handful of the characters do any doubling with the most entertaining being the two actors who double as the wood sprites in Act II when Prince Owain sets out to solve a series of tasks to reach the palace and save Briar Rose. The King of the Spiders—a large spider puppet combined with a speaking actor, was terribly impressive and garnered many gasps of awe from the full house of children and families. The rest of the design was, as always incredibly inspiring and imaginative. The design by long-time collaborator Carey Wong who teaches at The University of Washington evoked a large woven medieval tapestry with walls of leaves and vines hinting at the rose briars that will figure into the story later on. Three vertical panels of the same design served as trees that would reveal the infant who would become Briar Rose and through the use of miniature scaled palace shadow images would evoke the progress of the growing rose briars invoked by the evil Mordron.
One of the most stunning surprises of the design was an inner “stage-within-a-stage,” that created the christening chamber, and the room where Briar Rose would be laid as she falls into the deep enchanted sleep. This interior stone chamber was framed by a beautiful gilt frame. The whole unit could track upstage and downstage and was designed with forced perspective. There were several beautiful images created through the staging that bore a striking resemblance to the beautiful jewel toned paintings from the medieval period.
I was curious though to see how the new music and songs written by Chad Henry would work within the pre-existing script. Charles Way, I’m assuming, signed off on the music and lyrics, but I was less than impressed on their impact to the script which I was familiar with in the original version. Most of the songs did not propel the story or action and only served to slow down the momentum. There was a song about “having and wanting,” appropriate themes as they are, I felt the song to be a bit childish and, at times a trifle pedantic. The “dance off” with the woodland faeries was very entertaining and made me wonder how it would have played elsewhere. At first the music seemed to have a very strong Celtic feel, but as the play progressed, the music became more reminiscent of Rogers & Hammerstein.
The dialect work was weak and seems to be a challenge for most actors in this city. Many plays this season at other theatres involved plays with dialects (mostly British) and most, if not all, were weak efforts.
The end battle between Mordron and Prince Owain was, however, very dramatic and made up for any lack of tension or slow plot movement. With only fifteen seconds left for the spell to be broken, the sword fight kept many of the children seated around me on the edge of their seats. The victory of Prince Owain elicited a very enthusiastic applause from the audience.
On a side note, Seattle Children’s Theatre, like many of the major theatres geared for young people, provides a cry room for families that bring children who get restless or have difficulty keeping quiet. At the top of each performance, the House Manager makes an announcement regarding the usual—cell phones, pagers, running times, exits, and the availability of the cry room. However, at intermission, the House Manager made another announcement resulting from a crying child who didn’t get shuffled off to the cry room during Act I. I had to wonder if it was the Stage Manager or the actors that called for the additional announcement. It was welcomed nonetheless.
Seattle Children’s Theatre’s next production really plumbed the depths of dark themes in Robert Schenkkan’s serious adaptation of The Devil and Daniel Webster penned in the 1930’s by Stephen Vincent Benet. As the audience entered the theatre, the stage picture was dark and atmospheric with bold shadows of twisted tree branches that fell over a cluster of gravestones that anchored the far downstage left and right areas of the playing space. The main playing area was a large sweeping raked trapezoidal platform that diminished as it moved upstage to a dark and brooding sky. The whole design was inspired by the old hand tinted wood block prints from the
A desperate farmer, in an effort to marry his sweetheart and appease her skinflint father, makes a pact with the Devil. When his deal comes due at the end of six years, the farmer pleads with the Devil to release him from his bargain claiming that he has indeed fulfilled his end of the bargain. The Devil, old Scratch himself, feels otherwise. He denies Jabez Stone, the young man, any sort of reprieve. The young man approaches Daniel Webster, a noted lawyer to help him figure out a way to free his soul from the pact he has made with the Devil. Daniel Webster manipulates old Scratch into agreeing to have a trial whereby Webster will defend Jabez Stone.
The Second Act begins with Jabez Stone, his young wife Abigail, and Daniel Webster sitting in their home waiting for the clock to strike midnight. Again, a dramatic setting utilizing the previous Act’s raked floor with the addition of a door and towering upstage interior wall with fireplace, large mantel and ominous mantle clock. As the hour strikes, the door knocks and Scratch appears. He conjures a jury of his peers, which in this trial means one comprised of infamous villains from the past and the future including such luminaries as Lizzie Borden, Benedict Arnold, Al Capone, John Wilkes Booth, a member of the Klu Klux Klan and Blackbeard the Pirate. The playwright, Schenckkan has taken some liberties with this episode in the story, but it plays relatively well. The jury appears through a scrim above the fireplace painted to look like the interior wall of the house until there is a dramatic lighting change revealing the combination of actors and puppets. The use of puppets was predicated, I’m sure about cast size, but it works relatively well and carries through with the earlier use of puppets in several moments from Act I. The Second Act transpires as Webster and Scratch bandy lengthy arguments regarding themes of slavery, the value of a soul, the virtue in forgiveness and the strength and value in love and compassion. Ultimately Daniel Webster wins the trial with old Scratch leaving nursing his own pride, and the young couple living a long and prosperous life.
I think this production was effective and suitable for the target audience of junior high school children and some younger during the performance I witnessed. The shorter but much wordier Second Act lacked the energy and dynamic rapid staging of the Second Act so attentions began to waiver. But at the moment of Webster’s triumph, there was actually a collective breath of release from the audience which signaled the audience’s connection despite the shifting and shuffling.
The performance featured the ubiquitous Question & Answer session that follows all the SCT productions for middle elementary aged children and older. The actors lead the Q&A with questions posed to the audience which is really the best way to handle these sessions. I was struck by the answers to the question, “What is this play to us? Why do it?” The answers offered were varied but two children answered with, “Responsibility,” and “Civil Liberties.” The story has a power and resonance that can not be denied. I thoroughly enjoyed this piece and hope that it has a life beyond the premiere here at SCT.
In SCT’s production of Sleeping Beauty, directed by Artistic Associate Rita Giomi, Charles Way has written an adaptation that is Spartan in its cast size focusing on the characters and relationships in the small fairytale kingdom. In his version of this classic tale, the young Briar Rose is head strong with a free spirit that, at first glass, doesn’t seem to need saving. The Prince, on the other hand, seems a bit feckless and in need of saving himself. But this adaptation focuses on the blooming relationship of these two characters. The plot line is similar to many others with the antagonist role filled by the snubbed and jealous evil sorceress Modron who decides to cast a spell on the unsuspecting King and Queen’s new child. The good sorceress counters this magical curse with her spell sending all in the kingdom to sleep once Briar Rose pricks her finger on that fateful birthday on the needle of a spinning wheel.
With only seven actors in the ensemble, Charles Way’s adaptation is swift and to the point. Only a handful of the characters do any doubling with the most entertaining being the two actors who double as the wood sprites in Act II when Prince Owain sets out to solve a series of tasks to reach the palace and save Briar Rose. The King of the Spiders—a large spider puppet combined with a speaking actor, was terribly impressive and garnered many gasps of awe from the full house of children and families. The rest of the design was, as always incredibly inspiring and imaginative. The design by long-time collaborator Carey Wong who teaches at The University of Washington evoked a large woven medieval tapestry with walls of leaves and vines hinting at the rose briars that will figure into the story later on. Three vertical panels of the same design served as trees that would reveal the infant who would become Briar Rose and through the use of miniature scaled palace shadow images would evoke the progress of the growing rose briars invoked by the evil Mordron.
One of the most stunning surprises of the design was an inner “stage-within-a-stage,” that created the christening chamber, and the room where Briar Rose would be laid as she falls into the deep enchanted sleep. This interior stone chamber was framed by a beautiful gilt frame. The whole unit could track upstage and downstage and was designed with forced perspective. There were several beautiful images created through the staging that bore a striking resemblance to the beautiful jewel toned paintings from the medieval period.
I was curious though to see how the new music and songs written by Chad Henry would work within the pre-existing script. Charles Way, I’m assuming, signed off on the music and lyrics, but I was less than impressed on their impact to the script which I was familiar with in the original version. Most of the songs did not propel the story or action and only served to slow down the momentum. There was a song about “having and wanting,” appropriate themes as they are, I felt the song to be a bit childish and, at times a trifle pedantic. The “dance off” with the woodland faeries was very entertaining and made me wonder how it would have played elsewhere. At first the music seemed to have a very strong Celtic feel, but as the play progressed, the music became more reminiscent of Rogers & Hammerstein.
The dialect work was weak and seems to be a challenge for most actors in this city. Many plays this season at other theatres involved plays with dialects (mostly British) and most, if not all, were weak efforts.
The end battle between Mordron and Prince Owain was, however, very dramatic and made up for any lack of tension or slow plot movement. With only fifteen seconds left for the spell to be broken, the sword fight kept many of the children seated around me on the edge of their seats. The victory of Prince Owain elicited a very enthusiastic applause from the audience.
On a side note, Seattle Children’s Theatre, like many of the major theatres geared for young people, provides a cry room for families that bring children who get restless or have difficulty keeping quiet. At the top of each performance, the House Manager makes an announcement regarding the usual—cell phones, pagers, running times, exits, and the availability of the cry room. However, at intermission, the House Manager made another announcement resulting from a crying child who didn’t get shuffled off to the cry room during Act I. I had to wonder if it was the Stage Manager or the actors that called for the additional announcement. It was welcomed nonetheless.
Seattle Children’s Theatre’s next production really plumbed the depths of dark themes in Robert Schenkkan’s serious adaptation of The Devil and Daniel Webster penned in the 1930’s by Stephen Vincent Benet. As the audience entered the theatre, the stage picture was dark and atmospheric with bold shadows of twisted tree branches that fell over a cluster of gravestones that anchored the far downstage left and right areas of the playing space. The main playing area was a large sweeping raked trapezoidal platform that diminished as it moved upstage to a dark and brooding sky. The whole design was inspired by the old hand tinted wood block prints from the
A desperate farmer, in an effort to marry his sweetheart and appease her skinflint father, makes a pact with the Devil. When his deal comes due at the end of six years, the farmer pleads with the Devil to release him from his bargain claiming that he has indeed fulfilled his end of the bargain. The Devil, old Scratch himself, feels otherwise. He denies Jabez Stone, the young man, any sort of reprieve. The young man approaches Daniel Webster, a noted lawyer to help him figure out a way to free his soul from the pact he has made with the Devil. Daniel Webster manipulates old Scratch into agreeing to have a trial whereby Webster will defend Jabez Stone.
The Second Act begins with Jabez Stone, his young wife Abigail, and Daniel Webster sitting in their home waiting for the clock to strike midnight. Again, a dramatic setting utilizing the previous Act’s raked floor with the addition of a door and towering upstage interior wall with fireplace, large mantel and ominous mantle clock. As the hour strikes, the door knocks and Scratch appears. He conjures a jury of his peers, which in this trial means one comprised of infamous villains from the past and the future including such luminaries as Lizzie Borden, Benedict Arnold, Al Capone, John Wilkes Booth, a member of the Klu Klux Klan and Blackbeard the Pirate. The playwright, Schenckkan has taken some liberties with this episode in the story, but it plays relatively well. The jury appears through a scrim above the fireplace painted to look like the interior wall of the house until there is a dramatic lighting change revealing the combination of actors and puppets. The use of puppets was predicated, I’m sure about cast size, but it works relatively well and carries through with the earlier use of puppets in several moments from Act I. The Second Act transpires as Webster and Scratch bandy lengthy arguments regarding themes of slavery, the value of a soul, the virtue in forgiveness and the strength and value in love and compassion. Ultimately Daniel Webster wins the trial with old Scratch leaving nursing his own pride, and the young couple living a long and prosperous life.
I think this production was effective and suitable for the target audience of junior high school children and some younger during the performance I witnessed. The shorter but much wordier Second Act lacked the energy and dynamic rapid staging of the Second Act so attentions began to waiver. But at the moment of Webster’s triumph, there was actually a collective breath of release from the audience which signaled the audience’s connection despite the shifting and shuffling.
The performance featured the ubiquitous Question & Answer session that follows all the SCT productions for middle elementary aged children and older. The actors lead the Q&A with questions posed to the audience which is really the best way to handle these sessions. I was struck by the answers to the question, “What is this play to us? Why do it?” The answers offered were varied but two children answered with, “Responsibility,” and “Civil Liberties.” The story has a power and resonance that can not be denied. I thoroughly enjoyed this piece and hope that it has a life beyond the premiere here at SCT.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Cathay: 3 Tales of China
Cathay: 3 Tales of China
Conceived, Written and Directed by Ping Chong
Made in Collaboration with the Shaanxi Folk Art Theatre of Xian, China
I recently had an auspicious opportunity to see Ping Chong’s latest theatrical cultural exploration in his new piece Cathay: 3 Tales of China that premiered at Seattle Repertory Theatre September 10 – October 9, 2005. In the Rep’s more intimate Leo K. Theatre this piece did not suffer from the misfortunes of guest productions forced to play in larger barn theatres that diminish the artistic power of an evening of theatre filled not only with subtlety of story, but the delicate and intricate puppetry art that has become a signature of Ping Chong’s New York based company.
Cathay: 3 Tales of China is just that, three tales exploring the cultural dynamics of an ever-changing China. The piece was conceived by Ping Chong after several visits to Xi’an (pronounced Shi-ang), a city that was once the most populace in the world. The city’s dynamic evolution is a testament to the resilience of the Chinese culture and one that Chong respects deeply. His curiosity of this evolution makes up the backbone of the spirit of his new piece which he explores through the use of traditional Asian puppetry arts including rod puppets and shadow puppetry combined with his usual infusion of contemporary technology of robotic lighting and digital imagery.
As the audience entered the small, approximately 200 seat theatre, the setting onstage consisted of a very clean, contemporary interior with painted marble floor, a small seating area center stage comprised of clean contemporary ottoman/benches, two small raised areas left and right of center, and a back wall that consisted of a large timbered grid with panels measuring approximately four feet by six feet. The whole wall comprised twenty of these panels with the large timbers dividing them. The center panel contained a digital video projection of the title of the performance that was animated to give the illusion of silk billowing gently in a breeze. The whole setting visible at the top of the show inclusive of the full wall was only around eight feet from the edge of the stage. The audience conversations ranged from the curious as to how the puppets would figure into this setting to those who really had no idea what the play would entail.
The framing devise used by Ping Chong for his three tales were two ten foot tall terracotta Chinese dragon/sphinxes that tracked in onto the low platforms left and right.
The conceit of these framing characters—because each of these dragons came to life with glowing eyes and large elephantine ears that would raise and lower along with movable head and articulated jaws—was a matter of expansive time. What I mean by this was that each of the stories told by Chong’s company was prefaced by a quick repartee between the dragons that would help place each story along a linear timeline. These terracotta dragons would have been similar to the ones found in ancient burial chambers unearthed in 1974 by farmers. What they found was an ancient site containing 8000 terra-cotta soldiers, horses and other attendants for the first emperor of China, Qin Shi Huang.
The first tale, taken from the pages of classic Chinese literature is entitled “The Lady and the Emperor.” In this story set in imperial China, a young woman has won the heart of the Emperor. She becomes the primary consort for him, but is seen as a threat by the armies of the Emperor. Their relationship, a beautiful testament to true love and star-crossed fate, sets the wheels in motion for the third story’s key plot line.
The first story is told through the use of beautiful rod puppets manipulated by the company comprised of members of the Shaanxi Folk Art Theatre and members of the Seattle based Carter Family Puppet Theatre. What was so striking and imaginative was the cinematic way in which each of the scenes was played out. For each vignette, a different panel of the large wall would open either up or down revealing a four by six, or sometime larger, playing area. The cinematic quality would allow the scale of the puppets used to change from one scene to the next from large oversized heads only, to diminutive settings where a large number of smaller scaled figures would play exterior scenes or large group scenes. The effect was as if the camera would pull back for a long shot or come in for close-up shots allowing the audience to experience the whole performance like a film. One of the cleverest scenes was when the Emperor’s consort was visiting with her servant girl while sitting at her dressing table. The audience viewed this scene from above, as if the lens were directly above the puppets and table looking down onto the scene. The use of foreshortened puppet torsos and forced perspective (along with an amazing use of a little Shitzu dog puppet) garnered a collective gasp of astonishment and wonder from its audience.
The second story, further along the timeline, centered on a small child “Little Worm” and his family just prior and following the Japanese occupation of China during World War II. Here the technique shifted to an amazing variation of shadow puppetry where the puppets were not completely opaque like traditional shadow puppets, but made with semi-translucent plastic that cast a tinted image with painted detail onto the projection screen. Here, as in several other moments, the use of digital projected imagery was combined with the puppetry to create a highly cinematic fluid style. Little Worm wonders what will happen if the Japanese invade and is forced to run away during a Japanese air raid. This sequence is another testament to Ping Chong’s vision as the shadow characters are juxtaposed with digital images of squadrons of bombers flying over the Chinese countryside combining angle and visual perspective for the audience. Little Worm, separated from his family and community, is forced to flee on foot to safer locations. A Japanese soldier corners him. During the pivotal moment, the Japanese soldier fires his rifle leaving the audience to wonder the fate of the little boy.
The final story once again opens with our two dragons, but this time, they awaken to the sound of rocks falling and a brief glimmer of light from the outside world. We now see a digital image of the word “New”—the title of the last piece. We hear a soundscape of a hotel lobby and as the panels begin to open to reveal this story’s characters, we immediately realize we have now caught up with today. We are introduced to a brusque, obnoxious American businessman and his wife. We then glimpse an older gentleman who arrives at the hotel for a clandestine meeting with another older gentleman that we find out is Japanese. Interspersed with the vignettes are moments of sly commentary as a Chinese Rap artist MC Tang raps about modern Chinese culture.
This last vignette brings the two older characters together as we learn they are Little Worm and the Japanese soldier who tried to kill him in a poignant commentary on reconciliation. One of the younger male characters we meet in this section also comes to realize that the beautiful female hotel registration clerk is undeniably someone that he knows or perhaps met in a previous life. Ping Chong not only cleverly uses the device of the terracotta dragons as bookends to the story, but threads all three together with the trope of reincarnation that poetically brings the two star-crossed lovers from the first story—the Lady and the Emperor—together with the discovery of the male and female ingénues in this last story.
The play ends with a whimsical change of scale and perspective as the lights come up to reveal the setting visible at the top of the show with the addition of the two terracotta statues onstage. We are now in the hotel lobby. The puppeteers then make a couple of passes in costume with large puppet head/masks covering their own representing several of the characters from the last story. The commentary is filled with irony and humor, and leaves the audience with a sense of questioning the possibilities of our own lives and our own culture.
The evening proved moving and filled with wonderful moments of stylistic beauty. The only major detriment to the production was in the first story where we are given a scene between the Lady and the Emperor in their bed chamber when the two finally consummate their love. It was humorous in a very uncomfortable way and brought back images of the vulgar and base puppet sex-scene in the film Team America. All of the voices in the entire evening were pre-recorded—and to hear these two voices give an interpretation of breathless love, really brought the whole audience out of the moment. I began to wonder how this production would play to younger audience members since the last stop for the production would be the New Victory Theatre in New York City, a venue dedicated to theatre for young audiences. The moment mentioned above was so jarring and without merit, I fear that the rest of the story in section one would be lost to the twittering and whispers of a younger crowd.
The beauty in this completely theatrical event, was witnessing the artistry of the puppeteers from both cultures working in collaboration. Such an extraordinary cultural collaboration does not happen that often and it is to the credit of the Kennedy Center for commissioning the piece. Perhaps this is evidence to a growing awareness and appreciation for the puppetry arts beyond the Muppets or citizens of Avenue Q to a more refined and ancient art form that is given such exquisite expression in Ping Chong’s Cathay: 3 Tales of China.
Director Ping Chong's latest work, Cathay: 3 Tales of China received its world premiere September 10 - October 9, 2005 at Seattle Repertory Theatre, then continued on to the Kennedy Center in Washington D.C. as part of The Festival of China then to the New Victory Theatre, New York City. Photo © 2005 Seattle Repertory Theatre.
Conceived, Written and Directed by Ping Chong
Made in Collaboration with the Shaanxi Folk Art Theatre of Xian, China
I recently had an auspicious opportunity to see Ping Chong’s latest theatrical cultural exploration in his new piece Cathay: 3 Tales of China that premiered at Seattle Repertory Theatre September 10 – October 9, 2005. In the Rep’s more intimate Leo K. Theatre this piece did not suffer from the misfortunes of guest productions forced to play in larger barn theatres that diminish the artistic power of an evening of theatre filled not only with subtlety of story, but the delicate and intricate puppetry art that has become a signature of Ping Chong’s New York based company.
Cathay: 3 Tales of China is just that, three tales exploring the cultural dynamics of an ever-changing China. The piece was conceived by Ping Chong after several visits to Xi’an (pronounced Shi-ang), a city that was once the most populace in the world. The city’s dynamic evolution is a testament to the resilience of the Chinese culture and one that Chong respects deeply. His curiosity of this evolution makes up the backbone of the spirit of his new piece which he explores through the use of traditional Asian puppetry arts including rod puppets and shadow puppetry combined with his usual infusion of contemporary technology of robotic lighting and digital imagery.
As the audience entered the small, approximately 200 seat theatre, the setting onstage consisted of a very clean, contemporary interior with painted marble floor, a small seating area center stage comprised of clean contemporary ottoman/benches, two small raised areas left and right of center, and a back wall that consisted of a large timbered grid with panels measuring approximately four feet by six feet. The whole wall comprised twenty of these panels with the large timbers dividing them. The center panel contained a digital video projection of the title of the performance that was animated to give the illusion of silk billowing gently in a breeze. The whole setting visible at the top of the show inclusive of the full wall was only around eight feet from the edge of the stage. The audience conversations ranged from the curious as to how the puppets would figure into this setting to those who really had no idea what the play would entail.
The framing devise used by Ping Chong for his three tales were two ten foot tall terracotta Chinese dragon/sphinxes that tracked in onto the low platforms left and right.
The conceit of these framing characters—because each of these dragons came to life with glowing eyes and large elephantine ears that would raise and lower along with movable head and articulated jaws—was a matter of expansive time. What I mean by this was that each of the stories told by Chong’s company was prefaced by a quick repartee between the dragons that would help place each story along a linear timeline. These terracotta dragons would have been similar to the ones found in ancient burial chambers unearthed in 1974 by farmers. What they found was an ancient site containing 8000 terra-cotta soldiers, horses and other attendants for the first emperor of China, Qin Shi Huang.
The first tale, taken from the pages of classic Chinese literature is entitled “The Lady and the Emperor.” In this story set in imperial China, a young woman has won the heart of the Emperor. She becomes the primary consort for him, but is seen as a threat by the armies of the Emperor. Their relationship, a beautiful testament to true love and star-crossed fate, sets the wheels in motion for the third story’s key plot line.
The first story is told through the use of beautiful rod puppets manipulated by the company comprised of members of the Shaanxi Folk Art Theatre and members of the Seattle based Carter Family Puppet Theatre. What was so striking and imaginative was the cinematic way in which each of the scenes was played out. For each vignette, a different panel of the large wall would open either up or down revealing a four by six, or sometime larger, playing area. The cinematic quality would allow the scale of the puppets used to change from one scene to the next from large oversized heads only, to diminutive settings where a large number of smaller scaled figures would play exterior scenes or large group scenes. The effect was as if the camera would pull back for a long shot or come in for close-up shots allowing the audience to experience the whole performance like a film. One of the cleverest scenes was when the Emperor’s consort was visiting with her servant girl while sitting at her dressing table. The audience viewed this scene from above, as if the lens were directly above the puppets and table looking down onto the scene. The use of foreshortened puppet torsos and forced perspective (along with an amazing use of a little Shitzu dog puppet) garnered a collective gasp of astonishment and wonder from its audience.
The second story, further along the timeline, centered on a small child “Little Worm” and his family just prior and following the Japanese occupation of China during World War II. Here the technique shifted to an amazing variation of shadow puppetry where the puppets were not completely opaque like traditional shadow puppets, but made with semi-translucent plastic that cast a tinted image with painted detail onto the projection screen. Here, as in several other moments, the use of digital projected imagery was combined with the puppetry to create a highly cinematic fluid style. Little Worm wonders what will happen if the Japanese invade and is forced to run away during a Japanese air raid. This sequence is another testament to Ping Chong’s vision as the shadow characters are juxtaposed with digital images of squadrons of bombers flying over the Chinese countryside combining angle and visual perspective for the audience. Little Worm, separated from his family and community, is forced to flee on foot to safer locations. A Japanese soldier corners him. During the pivotal moment, the Japanese soldier fires his rifle leaving the audience to wonder the fate of the little boy.
The final story once again opens with our two dragons, but this time, they awaken to the sound of rocks falling and a brief glimmer of light from the outside world. We now see a digital image of the word “New”—the title of the last piece. We hear a soundscape of a hotel lobby and as the panels begin to open to reveal this story’s characters, we immediately realize we have now caught up with today. We are introduced to a brusque, obnoxious American businessman and his wife. We then glimpse an older gentleman who arrives at the hotel for a clandestine meeting with another older gentleman that we find out is Japanese. Interspersed with the vignettes are moments of sly commentary as a Chinese Rap artist MC Tang raps about modern Chinese culture.
This last vignette brings the two older characters together as we learn they are Little Worm and the Japanese soldier who tried to kill him in a poignant commentary on reconciliation. One of the younger male characters we meet in this section also comes to realize that the beautiful female hotel registration clerk is undeniably someone that he knows or perhaps met in a previous life. Ping Chong not only cleverly uses the device of the terracotta dragons as bookends to the story, but threads all three together with the trope of reincarnation that poetically brings the two star-crossed lovers from the first story—the Lady and the Emperor—together with the discovery of the male and female ingénues in this last story.
The play ends with a whimsical change of scale and perspective as the lights come up to reveal the setting visible at the top of the show with the addition of the two terracotta statues onstage. We are now in the hotel lobby. The puppeteers then make a couple of passes in costume with large puppet head/masks covering their own representing several of the characters from the last story. The commentary is filled with irony and humor, and leaves the audience with a sense of questioning the possibilities of our own lives and our own culture.
The evening proved moving and filled with wonderful moments of stylistic beauty. The only major detriment to the production was in the first story where we are given a scene between the Lady and the Emperor in their bed chamber when the two finally consummate their love. It was humorous in a very uncomfortable way and brought back images of the vulgar and base puppet sex-scene in the film Team America. All of the voices in the entire evening were pre-recorded—and to hear these two voices give an interpretation of breathless love, really brought the whole audience out of the moment. I began to wonder how this production would play to younger audience members since the last stop for the production would be the New Victory Theatre in New York City, a venue dedicated to theatre for young audiences. The moment mentioned above was so jarring and without merit, I fear that the rest of the story in section one would be lost to the twittering and whispers of a younger crowd.
The beauty in this completely theatrical event, was witnessing the artistry of the puppeteers from both cultures working in collaboration. Such an extraordinary cultural collaboration does not happen that often and it is to the credit of the Kennedy Center for commissioning the piece. Perhaps this is evidence to a growing awareness and appreciation for the puppetry arts beyond the Muppets or citizens of Avenue Q to a more refined and ancient art form that is given such exquisite expression in Ping Chong’s Cathay: 3 Tales of China.
Director Ping Chong's latest work, Cathay: 3 Tales of China received its world premiere September 10 - October 9, 2005 at Seattle Repertory Theatre, then continued on to the Kennedy Center in Washington D.C. as part of The Festival of China then to the New Victory Theatre, New York City. Photo © 2005 Seattle Repertory Theatre.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Best Laid Plans
Commentary on Seattle Children's Theatre's productions of Seussical and Nothing Is The Same will unfortunately not be posted. Scheduling and box office snafus made this impossible.
The Grapes of Wrath and The American Cycle: An Epic Program of Theatre and Outreach at The Intiman Theatre
The Intiman Theatre, best known of late for the Tony Award-winning musical A Light In the Piazza, should also be known by all of us in the theatre world due to their efforts in creating and giving breath to an epic program of theatre outreach that could serve for future models of similar programming.
The Intiman Theatre in Seattle, Washington, is currently being helmed by Bartlett Sher, Artistic Director and Laura Penn, Managing Director. Mr. Sher has been responsible for many of the recent outstanding production at the theatre since he joined in a leadership capacity and was the director for the Seattle production of Piazza and the eventual New York transfer winning a Tony nomination for his direction.
The American Cycle is the new brain-child of the creative team at The Intiman that will roll out over five years. The Cycle, as described in their program, includes five plays over five years, and a series of annual programs that explore the local resonance of themes and ideas generated by the works on stage. As an audience member, I had been exposed to some of the media coverage of this Program, but it really did not hit home for me until I recently attended the Intiman’s production of John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath, directed by Linda Hartzell, Artistic Director of Seattle Children’s Theatre.
Grapes of Wrath is the second of the five play Cycle that started with Our Town, featuring Tom Skerritt as the Narrator and will continue with Richard Wright’s Native Son (2006), Robert Penn Warren’s All The King’s Men (2007, rights pending) and Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird (2008). What, I think is so extraordinary with this program, is the breadth and scope of the entire program. The selection of plays alone is exciting, but it is the ancillary components that really resonated for me.
Upon entering the Intiman’s spacious theatre lobby, I immediately noticed the extent to which the Education Department had gone to invite the audience to explore the historical significance of Steinbeck’s subject matter. On one side of the lobby was a map of the United States tracing the journey of the Joad’s and the primary path of many migrants during the Dust Bowl. This was accompanied by pictures of various locations that were pin-pointed on the map—images by Dorothea Lange, and other visual images of the photographers of the WPA program. On the other side of the lobby was a historical representation of how the Dust Bowl and Great Depression impacted the Pacific Northwest region and industries such as Salmon fishing. This was executed through maps, photographs and a digital program playing on a lap top computer. Throughout the center of the lobby, was a large two sided display board that snaked its way through the central expanse—symbolic in many ways of the journey that the Joads and others undertook. It was an enormous amount of visual resource and text exploring life during this time.
As stated in the program, The American Cycle Goals are—Produce Great Art, Cultivate Curiosity, Advocate for Literacy, Encourage an Informal Citizenry and Understand Interconnectedness. Most of this is obvious, but for me, the two that caught my eye were Encouraging Informal Citizenry and Understanding Interconnectedness. Having spent the last fourteen years trying to solve these questions with my own work and company in Austin, I was intrigued by how an institution of The Intiman’s size and caliber would handle these two thorny issues.
The last two of the above goals are of course connected and not mutually exclusive within a program such as this.
Having missed the programming for Our Town and much to my chagrin Grapes of Wrath, I can only go by what the theatre shares itself. But the outlook looks impressive and I am eager to participate in the future productions and programming going forward.
One of the key components that I think really should be shared is the Rough Eagles program. This collaboration is between the youth of two disparate schools with the Seattle metropolitan area. One from a north end school with greater resources and the other from a south end school with limited resources. The two groups came together to explore the themes of Our Town and now, continue this program by exploring the themes found in Grapes of Wrath. Over the span of several months, these students along with their teachers and sponsors create a theatrical presentation of their devising in response to the play and its themes. Along with this major component can be found civic dialogues leading up to each production along with community readings, talk-backs and others as created.
It would seem to me that this program’s success stems from its ability to reach to not only its adult base, but to the future audiences by really making an effort to connect with non-theatre-goers, and young people who traditionally may not have the ability or desire to attend these productions because of finances or the misperceptions that it is too high-brow.
The Frank Galati adaptation, first produced by Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theatre is a clean and faithful treatment of Steinbeck’s monumental work. As directed by Linda Hartzell, the story was poetically moving and captured the lonely and desolate love shared and lost by the Joad family. The casting of the main characters was dead-on with a superlative performance by Beth Dixon as Ma Joad. Her stoicism and mid-west sensibility keep the family going through the toughest times and it is through her eyes that we experience the excruciating heartbreak as her family slowly crumbles around her not unlike the dry earth that forces her family to flee in the first place. Her dreams, her family, dissolve into dust blown on the winds of change.
Hartzell stages the opening tableau like a dance with a handful of several isolated characters throughout the Intiman’s large stage—lights dim, the faint sound of dry wind and the images of dilapidated cedar post fence and dusty sky are all we need to set the tone and mood of the play. Carey Wong’s design is comprised of basically a bare stage within which he places simple scenic elements that set each of the locales of the play.
The costumes were dusty-worn, sepia tinted and drawn from the stark and evocative images we all know from the famous photographs of Dorothea Lange. The one draw-back for me was the lighting which seemed to conflict with itself at many times when trying to set a mood with motivated light sources such as fire-pits or lanterns. The lighting effects were thwarted by too much overall stage light. Having seen the Steppenwolf’s production, I was aware of the need for it to rain onstage and for a large trap to open in the downstage playing space to reveal a pool of water roughly four feet by 24 feet that was used for the river and swimmin’ hole. I knew it was coming, but experienced the joy of this simple theatrical design element when the collective gasp of awe rippled through the audience not unlike the wind on the dusty farm field. It was a magical moment.
And there were many magical moments for me due in no small part by Linda Hartzell’s staging. Of course there were many similarities to the Steppenwolf production both in design and directing, but I believe much of this must be in the specifics of the script directions in the stage adaptation by Frank Galati. However, two moments that stand out for me were when Ma takes a moment and moves downstage and sits alone in a chair next to a fire pit in the floor. She holds a musical jewelry box. She opens it, listening to the music. She removes a pair of earbobs and with much heartbreak, throws the box into the fire. It was a brief moment, but it underscored the quiet loneliness and resolve of this wife and mother—to have to sacrifice something so little, but yet something of such significance for her. The other moment, was of course the ending when Rose of Sharon, having lost her newborn child, makes the decision to feed a man, near to death. It is after a rain storm (one of those theatrical effects that evoked a collective gasp), the sound of the water still dripping from the catwalks can be heard, Ma covers Rose of Sharon with a blanket who gets up and crosses to the man. The two are left onstage as Rose of Sharon draws the man to her as she gives her breast to him. It is such a moving moment first on the page, and then to see it translated so beautifully and fearlessly to stage by Hartzell and her actors.
This was my first production at The Intiman, and I know it will not be my last.
For more information regarding The Intiman Theatre, visit their website at:
http://www.intiman.org/2005/default.html
To view the full list of events and programs related to The Grapes of Wrath and The American Cycle, visit:
http://www.intiman.org/2005/g_events.html
The Intiman Theatre in Seattle, Washington, is currently being helmed by Bartlett Sher, Artistic Director and Laura Penn, Managing Director. Mr. Sher has been responsible for many of the recent outstanding production at the theatre since he joined in a leadership capacity and was the director for the Seattle production of Piazza and the eventual New York transfer winning a Tony nomination for his direction.
The American Cycle is the new brain-child of the creative team at The Intiman that will roll out over five years. The Cycle, as described in their program, includes five plays over five years, and a series of annual programs that explore the local resonance of themes and ideas generated by the works on stage. As an audience member, I had been exposed to some of the media coverage of this Program, but it really did not hit home for me until I recently attended the Intiman’s production of John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath, directed by Linda Hartzell, Artistic Director of Seattle Children’s Theatre.
Grapes of Wrath is the second of the five play Cycle that started with Our Town, featuring Tom Skerritt as the Narrator and will continue with Richard Wright’s Native Son (2006), Robert Penn Warren’s All The King’s Men (2007, rights pending) and Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird (2008). What, I think is so extraordinary with this program, is the breadth and scope of the entire program. The selection of plays alone is exciting, but it is the ancillary components that really resonated for me.
Upon entering the Intiman’s spacious theatre lobby, I immediately noticed the extent to which the Education Department had gone to invite the audience to explore the historical significance of Steinbeck’s subject matter. On one side of the lobby was a map of the United States tracing the journey of the Joad’s and the primary path of many migrants during the Dust Bowl. This was accompanied by pictures of various locations that were pin-pointed on the map—images by Dorothea Lange, and other visual images of the photographers of the WPA program. On the other side of the lobby was a historical representation of how the Dust Bowl and Great Depression impacted the Pacific Northwest region and industries such as Salmon fishing. This was executed through maps, photographs and a digital program playing on a lap top computer. Throughout the center of the lobby, was a large two sided display board that snaked its way through the central expanse—symbolic in many ways of the journey that the Joads and others undertook. It was an enormous amount of visual resource and text exploring life during this time.
As stated in the program, The American Cycle Goals are—Produce Great Art, Cultivate Curiosity, Advocate for Literacy, Encourage an Informal Citizenry and Understand Interconnectedness. Most of this is obvious, but for me, the two that caught my eye were Encouraging Informal Citizenry and Understanding Interconnectedness. Having spent the last fourteen years trying to solve these questions with my own work and company in Austin, I was intrigued by how an institution of The Intiman’s size and caliber would handle these two thorny issues.
The last two of the above goals are of course connected and not mutually exclusive within a program such as this.
Having missed the programming for Our Town and much to my chagrin Grapes of Wrath, I can only go by what the theatre shares itself. But the outlook looks impressive and I am eager to participate in the future productions and programming going forward.
One of the key components that I think really should be shared is the Rough Eagles program. This collaboration is between the youth of two disparate schools with the Seattle metropolitan area. One from a north end school with greater resources and the other from a south end school with limited resources. The two groups came together to explore the themes of Our Town and now, continue this program by exploring the themes found in Grapes of Wrath. Over the span of several months, these students along with their teachers and sponsors create a theatrical presentation of their devising in response to the play and its themes. Along with this major component can be found civic dialogues leading up to each production along with community readings, talk-backs and others as created.
It would seem to me that this program’s success stems from its ability to reach to not only its adult base, but to the future audiences by really making an effort to connect with non-theatre-goers, and young people who traditionally may not have the ability or desire to attend these productions because of finances or the misperceptions that it is too high-brow.
The Frank Galati adaptation, first produced by Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theatre is a clean and faithful treatment of Steinbeck’s monumental work. As directed by Linda Hartzell, the story was poetically moving and captured the lonely and desolate love shared and lost by the Joad family. The casting of the main characters was dead-on with a superlative performance by Beth Dixon as Ma Joad. Her stoicism and mid-west sensibility keep the family going through the toughest times and it is through her eyes that we experience the excruciating heartbreak as her family slowly crumbles around her not unlike the dry earth that forces her family to flee in the first place. Her dreams, her family, dissolve into dust blown on the winds of change.
Hartzell stages the opening tableau like a dance with a handful of several isolated characters throughout the Intiman’s large stage—lights dim, the faint sound of dry wind and the images of dilapidated cedar post fence and dusty sky are all we need to set the tone and mood of the play. Carey Wong’s design is comprised of basically a bare stage within which he places simple scenic elements that set each of the locales of the play.
The costumes were dusty-worn, sepia tinted and drawn from the stark and evocative images we all know from the famous photographs of Dorothea Lange. The one draw-back for me was the lighting which seemed to conflict with itself at many times when trying to set a mood with motivated light sources such as fire-pits or lanterns. The lighting effects were thwarted by too much overall stage light. Having seen the Steppenwolf’s production, I was aware of the need for it to rain onstage and for a large trap to open in the downstage playing space to reveal a pool of water roughly four feet by 24 feet that was used for the river and swimmin’ hole. I knew it was coming, but experienced the joy of this simple theatrical design element when the collective gasp of awe rippled through the audience not unlike the wind on the dusty farm field. It was a magical moment.
And there were many magical moments for me due in no small part by Linda Hartzell’s staging. Of course there were many similarities to the Steppenwolf production both in design and directing, but I believe much of this must be in the specifics of the script directions in the stage adaptation by Frank Galati. However, two moments that stand out for me were when Ma takes a moment and moves downstage and sits alone in a chair next to a fire pit in the floor. She holds a musical jewelry box. She opens it, listening to the music. She removes a pair of earbobs and with much heartbreak, throws the box into the fire. It was a brief moment, but it underscored the quiet loneliness and resolve of this wife and mother—to have to sacrifice something so little, but yet something of such significance for her. The other moment, was of course the ending when Rose of Sharon, having lost her newborn child, makes the decision to feed a man, near to death. It is after a rain storm (one of those theatrical effects that evoked a collective gasp), the sound of the water still dripping from the catwalks can be heard, Ma covers Rose of Sharon with a blanket who gets up and crosses to the man. The two are left onstage as Rose of Sharon draws the man to her as she gives her breast to him. It is such a moving moment first on the page, and then to see it translated so beautifully and fearlessly to stage by Hartzell and her actors.
This was my first production at The Intiman, and I know it will not be my last.
For more information regarding The Intiman Theatre, visit their website at:
http://www.intiman.org/2005/default.html
To view the full list of events and programs related to The Grapes of Wrath and The American Cycle, visit:
http://www.intiman.org/2005/g_events.html
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Welcome
Having worked in this field for the past fifteen years almost exclusively and before that in the adult theatre community as an actor and designer, I am always keenly aware of what is happening around me as an artist. I am also an artist drawn to theatre for young audiences (T.Y.A.) mainly because we are still children refusing to grow up. We are a Betwixt-and-Between. This is what Solomon calls Peter in J. M. Barrie’s Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. We cannot fully grow up, nor do we want to I should think. I do not really feel that one can truly grow up and become successful in our field unless there is s certain spirit of joie de jeunesse that permeates all that we do.
Insight, as defined by the Oxford American Dictionary, is the ability to perceive and understand the true nature of something. It is my hope that this conversation will spur you to think and to reflect on your own contributions and give insight how the contributions of others may have a lasting impact on our craft.
I welcome your comments and suggestions.
Insight, as defined by the Oxford American Dictionary, is the ability to perceive and understand the true nature of something. It is my hope that this conversation will spur you to think and to reflect on your own contributions and give insight how the contributions of others may have a lasting impact on our craft.
I welcome your comments and suggestions.
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