SK’s theatre thoughts

I was in the mood for visual beauty, after an afternoon going through the Marion Square booths (Tyler Blanton is a favorite) and watching the grounded yet ethereal creation of a sand mandala down at the City Gallery.  So the Boston Ballet was a perfect cap to the day.  The first piece – Brake the Eyes – was definitely my favorite.  It was like a tug of war between structured balletic form and the wild abandon of dance.  Choreographer Jorma Elo, resident with Boston Ballet, uses excerpts from Mozart interspersed with a mechanic hum and what sound like directions being given in (perhaps?) Ukrainian.  I ached to know what was being said.  The dancers flung their arms and legs, as if they were being pulled by centrifugal force and appeared to experimenting with how many different ways their limbs would bend and move.  There were spaces where their movement was completely constricted, robot-like, manipulated by a lead dancer whose power grew stronger as the piece went on.  Their fairly traditional balletic costumes also clashed with their apparent desire to move freely.  A meditation on the limits of traditional form and the dancer’s desire to abandon themselves to exploring the extremes of movement.  I loved every second of it.

The second piece was a series of excerpts from Swan Lake.  I was puzzled by the first few pieces, as it appeared that the dancers were in slow motion, a bit behind the music, not bothering to really jump.  It looked to me like they had all taken half a Xanax.  I wondered if it was simply the juxtaposition of the previous piece, which screamed energy.  But once the White and Black Swan pas de deuxs began, my perplexity vanished.  The precision and perfection of every turn and leap was thrilling.  It was a masterful exhibition of technique.  Especially the Black Swan (danced, I believe, by Erica Cornejo, unless I missed an announcement of cast change) was astounding.  Her pirhouettes never  strayed  from her central point and nearly brought the crowd to its feet.   But this was all really a show-off piece, missing the emotional punch of the full ballet.

The third piece was also wonderful, a performance of Twyla Tharp’s “In the Upper Room”.  The lighting by Jennifer Tipton, with a good bit of stage fog, contributed the most exciting aspect of the piece – sudden appearances by dancers from the back of the stage, as they emerged from a curtain through the fog.  The effect was stunning.  Some of the female dancers wore red shoes and socks, pulling attention to their feet, much like the hennaed fingertips of Shantala Shivlingappa (and most Indian dancers) draws attention to the precise movement of the fingers.   I’ll admit I didn’t get much out of this, theme-wise, but the dancing was beautiful, and there were some really nice moments for the male dancers, which I had missed in the earlier pieces.

1927′s Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea began as a series of experimentation, with Paul Barritt creating films to go along with Suzanne’s Andrade’s poems. Although two performers and much variety has been added since then, at times Devil felt like it was just that – a series of clever film techniques to give the audience something to look at while they listen to the stories. At other times, the text and animation combined to create something truly new – a structure that only exists in the juxtaposition of live performer, spoken word and animated story.

The effect is very different than what happens in Monkey: Journey to the West. In that show, when animation and live performer are combined, it is to envelope the performer in a world bigger than what is offered by the stage. When the animation then gives way to a full-stage scene, the stage looks bigger, like it has grown to encompass the world imagined by the film. In Devil, the animation traps the live performer in a world grown small and two-dimensional, restricting movement and free will. The trapped feeling echoes the stories, where innocent and not-so-innocent people find themselves in dark and gruesome circumstances, and go through it all with a glint in their eyes. It reminded me of a cross between the 1991 Addams Family movie (particularly the love with which Christina Ricci and Anjelica Huston expressed their sadism) and Broadway’s hit Shockheaded Peter, which told macabre tales of what happens to bad little boys and girls with gleeful abandon.

The two-dimensionalness of Devil is deliberate, as it uses the trope of silent movies to structure its tales. My favorites were the ones that truly combined live and film, such as the opening piece “The 9 Deaths of Choo Choo le Chat.” The live “cat” fell from animated buildings, was hit by an animated car, was set on animated fire by an animated devil, was electrocuted by animated lightning, and endured other animated indignities. Similarly clever, and far more poignant, was “Sinking Suburbia”, in which the fight for a better animated house led to animated topiari and a real saw destroying animated scenery. Though it was short, I thought this story gained the most meaning from the production style. The materialist suburban fight is animation in all its two-dimensional limitation.

I was puzzled by the section of audience participation. Suzanne Andrade and Esme Appleton play demented young girls periodically, looking for playmates to torture (they have parents buried in the back bedroom and do serious damage to a lodger and an au pair). (They have been likened by others to the twin girls in The Shining, although those demons don’t seem to do anything other than show up in hallways uninvited.) After doing away with their grandmother they want another playmate just as good, so they choose a young man from the audience and dress him up as grandmother. When they take him behind the screen we watch film of “him” running wildly through the woods, pursued by the demonic sisters.

Other film techniques included object manipulation in dollhouses and a full sepia-toned cartoon, mostly sans live performers, of gingerbread men taking over the world. Although the title of the play suggests that there are difficult choices to be made in life, the devil wins every argument here hands-down (and in fact, slaps an angel down easily in the one moment where temptation is acknowledged in the traditional angel and devil on the shoulder way). This isn’t a play about choices – it’s about how the macabre side of life always has the upper hand. Perhaps that accounts for the two-dimensional, trapped feeling of the piece – there’s not really contemplation of options, just an embrace of the dark side, told with humor and innovation, pulling three-dimensional performers into the two-dimensional, animated world of the twisted.

Tonight I had a night of positive vibes, in two completely different forms. Shantala Shivalingappa and her four musicians spread elegance and joy in their performance of the Indian dance kuchipudi. It only lasted an hour but I could have easily sat for another hour and watched her hands. The strength and control are amazing, but what’s truly ethereal is the grace which accompanies her every move. Almost as if she’s floating underwater; all the rough edges smoothed out. Kuchipudi, like all Indian dance forms (or all the ones I’ve seen) focuses outward – on the audience, the subject of the narration, the universe. She looks audience members in the eye, and projects the serenity and joy that characterize the dance as a form of spiritual observance. Because of the openness and outward projection of the dance, the moments where Shivalingappa turns within in a moment of reflection or prayer are even more poignant.

The musicians, providing the rhythm and story for the rhythmic and narrative dances, could form a show unto themselves, and do in the opening prayer song and in one piece played by the drummers, in which they exchanged rhythmic patterns and competed with complicated vocal “scat”. Amazing that with only five people on stage, no English and no set, still there was no end of things to listen to and look at. These tickets will be hard to get ahold of for the last two shows – try to get in there.

Following the dance I ran over to Theatre 99 to see The Reckoning, an improv group out of Chicago. They perform in a “Harold” format – my favorite structure for improv, and have amazing command of what is known of as group mind. It’s almost hard to believe that the work isn’t scripted, given how easily it flows and how well it all comes together. I laughed for the whole hour. As silly as it may seem, one thing that truly impressed me was, after almost an hour of playing multiple characters, when they picked up characters they’d created at the beginning, they instantly remembered what voice they’d used. Good improv isn’t just about being funny and creating scenes; it’s about keeping track of it all and pulling it all together at the end. This group does that brilliantly. They only have three more shows. Catch them.

What’s amazing is how positive the whole night was.  Such positive energy.  So far, for me, Spoleto and Piccolo are three for three.

Just got back from seeing Monkey: Journey to the West, and it really was every bit as amazing as I’d expect from Chen Shi-Zheng, the creator of the very moving Peony Pavilion, which played here at Spoleto a few years back. That show had the challenge of the Memminger Auditorium space, wide and with a fairly low, open ceiling. For that piece Chen created a whole Chinese traditional theatre, complete with goldfish pond. For Monkey, he’s in the Sottile Theatre, a challenge in completely different ways. The space is smaller than the company is used to working in, and the hemp and sandbag fly system must have made flying those people around a true challenge.

But I get ahead of myself. Flying performers is only one of many amazing pieces to this show. I scribbled in a little notebook all the way through; notes that now appear like the drunk wanderings of a careless monk, since I couldn’t bear to take my eyes off the stage long enough to watch what I was doing.

The plot of the story is the base on which the performance stands; like traditional Chinese opera forms, the plot provides the reason for the acrobatics and singing, but is not itself the point of the piece. You can find the plot in your Spoleto program; suffice it to say that Monkey is born of an egg, establishes his power, is imprisoned by Buddha for 500 years, and then goes on a journey to protect Tripitaka as he returns sacred texts to India.

Stylistically, in its music, performance techniques, and acting, Monkey is a mishmash of east and west, blending remarkably well, and reflecting the dual hemispheric influences of Chen Shi-Zheng. Most striking to anyone who has seen any form of Chinese opera are the cartoons and animations that help tell the story and transition scenes. The image on the front screen in pre-show looks like a mix of Chinese and American cartoon styles. The humanoid characters have the wide grins and narrow eyes that can feel a bit cliched to sensitive westerners, but which pervade Chinese culture. Mixed in was a big purple eye that looked right out of Futurama and other vaguely familiarly styled alien and demon creatures. This is the style of James Hewlett, responsible for the “Visual Concept” of the show, and better known as the visual half of the band Gorillaz.

Animations and cartoons continue throughout the show, providing us with the story of Monkey’s emergence from his egg, underwater scenes (that frankly paled in comparison to the live depiction), and, more disturbingly, indicate the passage of Monkey’s 500-year imprisonment through a mostly non-cartoon montage of China’s history, including a disturbing mushroom cloud nestled in Buddha’s hands.

Monkey and his companions, including Pigsy, Tripitaka, the Dragon Prince (transformed into a horse), and the General Sandy, a character that gets far too little stage time and focus, travel through mystical lands, inhabited by demons, evil Princesses, and flying nymphs. At each scene, we are introduced to the nemeses via their acrobatics. Pole fighting, a popular element in Beijing opera (particularly in stories involving the Monkey King) is brilliantly executed here, although it gets lost amidst the other acrobatics at times. Other techniques are familiar to western audiences through groups like Cirque du Soleil. The fabric acrobatics, contortionism, balancing acts and fire twirling will look familiar to anyone who has seen that French Canadian troupe. Roller blades and unicycles were a fun surprise, but couldn’t be fully utilized on the small Sottile stage. The difference between here and more standard circus acts is that often the performers are singing at the same time.

Which brings me to the music. I’m no expert, but I’d describe much of the music as a mix of western minimalist (a la Philip Glass), Chinese traditional (played mostly on western instruments), with elements of modern Chinese pop (think saccharine and lyrical) and techno. Although it sometimes changes quite drastically from scene to scene, I didn’t find the mix jarring or incongruent at all. The singers were very heavily miked, so it was a relief that the singing style did not closely resemble Beijing opera, which would have been difficult to take at such a volume (as much as I love Beijing opera singing – no really, I’m not kidding, I really like it). Since I’m not familiar with David Albarn’s work with Gorillaz, I don’t know how much of a departure this is for him. Either way, I’ll be buying one of the cds soon.

The visuals, beyond what is provided by the constant movement and attention-grabbing activity of the performers, also provides a nice mix of east and west. Monkey is face-painted, very much like the Monkey King character in Beijing opera, while most others are merely heavily made up or wearing large head-covering masks. I found the full head masks of the other monkeys at the beginning and the men in heaven to be a little jarring and disturbing. At the distance I was sitting (just over half way back in the orchestra) they looked like Halloween masks or storm trooper helmets, and didn’t blend with the clever costumes of most characters (in whom I saw subtle echos of Julie Taylor and Cirque again). I hope to see it again from a closer seat so I can fully appreciate the costumes. Often obscured in the copious smoke and dim lighting, they appeared to be both whimsical and a bit grubby. Besides the full head-masks, other costumes that didn’t work for me were the horse costume (the tiny rear end hanging behind the performer just looked creepy) and the flesh eaters, whose fantastic body suits painted “naked” were undermined by the weird blonde wigs. Are we supposed to take this as a cultural statement?

The audience was a typical Spoleto audience. They applauded very little during the performance (I think the performers have been used to more audible appreciation for their work) but happily provided a standing ovation at the end. Some audience members seemed a bit bored by the two-hour, no intermission show, not least of which was the gum-snapping, helmet-haired woman beside me. She should thank her lucky stars for that empty seat between us. I was enthralled throughout, but not emotionally moved. That’s similar to my experience at the Beijing Opera in Beijing, and I think is not inappropriate or against the creators’ wishes. Monkey is a fantastic spectacle, a celebration of amazing talent, and an illustration of how well the most innovative and exciting performance traditions of east and west can come together to tell a beloved Chinese fable. Go. See it. Be amazed. Don’t get too entranced with one performer; remember to continually scan the stage for the multiple images presented. And bring a sense of wonder.

May 22: Monkey: Journey to the West

May 23:Shantala Shivalingappa

May 24: Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

May 25: Boston Ballet, Piccolo Spoleto music and Richard McMahon exhibit

May 26: La Cerenterola

May 29: Burial at Thebes

May 31: Taylor Mac

June 4: Laurie Anderson

June 6: Hotel Modern

and other tickets yet to be bought. Suggestions?

The Spoleto and Piccolo Spoleto festivals officially start tomorrow with the opening ceremonies at noon. But the Preview performances begin tonight. I’ll be attending the show I’m most excited about this year – Monkey: Journey to the West. I’ll be blogging about all the shows I see this year, in preparation for a festival review I’m going to be writing for Theatre Journal.

The exciting madness of Spoleto starts tonight! I can’t wait.

And definitely check out the SpoletoBuzz (see link at the right). Much of what I write here I’ll copy to that blog, but many others will be posting there as well. None of us an see it all, so together we’ll create a picture of what Spoleto/Piccolo Spoleto looks like this year.