On Passion and Reason

Ho hum. Just another matinee of a Pulitzer Prize finalist at my local theater.

I'm kidding, of course.

I was thrilled to be at Virginia Repertory to see Cadence Theater's production of "Sons of the Prophet, part of the Acts of Faith Festival.

The story, a black comedy (or maybe just a drama-comedy) centers around two brothers whose father is killed at the beginning of the movie.

The best memories are all fictional.

Their aging and opinionated Uncle Bill moves in with them.

Joseph has un-diagnosed, crippling  pain in his legs.

He and his brother Charles are both gay (what are the chances, everyone wonders).

His female boss is an addictive personality obsessed with writing a book about his family because they are supposedly descended from poet Kahlil Gibran.

What's Lifetime movies? 
Television for women.

And it all makes for a glorious play where people talk over each other (like in real life) and bad things happen to good people (also known as life).

Anytime you try to put truth on paper, you get fiction.

Segments mirroring chapters in Gibran's "The Prophet" - "On Pain," "On Home, "On Friendship"- tell the story as the family copes.

Where you're dropped off in the world is everything.

The cast was stellar, with some of Richmond's best and some of its best up and coming actors coming alive on the tiny TheatreGym stage.

It seemed like Ryan Bechard as Joseph was on the stage practically every minute, playing a frustrated 28-year old trying to figure out what life had handed him. He did lust as well as he did pain.

The always-stellar Alan Sader was just the right mix of old-world and old man adjusting to the loss of his brother and having to go to the bathroom in a converted closet.

DJ Cummings as the younger brother Charles got my vote for best offhand delivery of his lines, making observations to the faces of other characters with no apparent filter. Hysterical.

The versatile Jacqueline Jones played a host of roles, funny, empathetic, gossipy and disdainful. And her black curly wig was magnificent.

Evan Nasteff played the TV reporter who comes to get a story with a mix of resolve and humor and some excellent butt-grabbing when it was called for.

No one's life should be about finding stability.

The play was short and because it was a story with no resolution, it wound up before I was ready for it to end.

I've little doubt that the Pulitzer Prize jury felt the same.

And considering that it just played off-Broadway last year, this theatergoer feels incredibly fortunate to have a top-notch production of it here so quickly after it closed in the Big Apple.

And I just may have to adopt the play's last line as my motto.

If you do it in time to the music, it goes faster.

What part of life couldn't that be applied to?

I have to give Cadence credit; yet again, they've produced a play I will be recommending my friends go see as soon as possible.

And I'll warn them not to come looking for a neat little play tied in a bow and handed to the audience because "Sons of the Prophet" is so much more interesting than that.

Afterwards, there was a break before tonight's music, so that got solved neatly by parking once and partying twice.

Upstairs at Pie, we found Evan, the actor who'd played Timothy, tending bar with his music blaring.

Given the afternoon, I found his choice of Franz Ferdinand's "Matinee" particularly appropriate.

I chose a Pacino pie (covered in onions, spinach, bacon and Parmesan) just about the time that the actor who'd played Joseph walked in, sitting down at the bar with a drink and his cigarettes and answering questions from strangers about what roles he'd played for Richmond Shakespeare.

Asking for behind-the-scenes dirt, about the best we got from Evan was about pre-show dance parties in his dressing room.

I correctly guessed that Justin Timberlake was part of that mix.

Well, that and Jacqueline knits a lot backstage and DJ is an old soul in a young man's body.

Limited dirt, in other words, but fine pizza-eating conversation.

From there it was a short walk across the street to Balliceaux for Classical Incarnations, with musicians playing in small groups the classical music of their choice.

It's a chance for longhairs to let down their hair, sort of.

Until they began, the speakers blared the Ramones and the Clash, perfect pre-classical music my companion, a friend and I agreed.

We got there in time to score chairs, a good thing, since many people ended up standing or sitting on the cold floor for the entire show given that it was the biggest crowd I've ever seen for one of these nights.

Things got off on a high note with Richmond Symphony pianist Russell Wilson and trumpeter Victor playing the evocative "Night Songs."

I've known Russell since I took a series of jazz classes from him years ago at the VMFA and he's one of my very favorite musicians for his sweet nature, ever-present camera and amazing skills on the ivories.

A trio of guitar, cello and soprano had to wait for the sound of the deep fryer to stop before they could start.

Band photographer PJ was there at the musicians' request, shooting their sets the same as he does punk and indie shows.

There was a good-sized contingent present from Fredericksburg beginning with a violinist who played a Bach piece and got a loud, "Yes, John!" when he finished.

Russell came back with a vocalist for "Je te Veux," chosen, the singer said, because of Valentine's Day.

Tom came out with his bassoon to play two movements of a Bach flute piece.

"Not that much good music is written for bassoon, so we have to steal it," he said with a grin. "I hope by the second part you'll be tapping your feet."

It was a worthwhile theft and by the second part, I saw three sets of feet tapping besides my own, and at the end, a guy yelled, "Get it!" in support.

Oh, he got it alright.

There was a break for everyone to refresh their drinks and mingle, during which a sax-playing friend walked up and said, "Glad you're sitting down."

It was a reference to my fainting spell the other night, but it was also pretty funny.

Like me, he was bummed to have missed hearing Snowy Owls cover My Bloody Valentine.

During the intermission, I heard a guy say, "If I have a friend come into town this is where I take him."

High praise indeed for Balliceaux.

The Richmond Guitar Quartet was made up of three guys (and one on a seven-string guitar) and one woman in a sea foam green floor-length dress.

I didn't ask.

First they played English composer Frank Bridge's "An Irish Melody," explaining that it would like a deconstructed version of a song ("Like a puzzle you have to put together") that showed bits and pieces of the melody and only came together near the end.

So you can imagine my surprise, being a musical idiot. when I recognized what it was about 20 seconds in.

Maybe it was my Irish heritage, but picking out "Danny Boy" was as easy as drinking.

They did a couple pieces from Bizet's "Carmen," noting an empathy with the bassoon player's dilemma - not a lot of classical music was written for guitar.

 Next up was a cellist I recognized not just from another Classical Incarnations, but from indie band Ocean vs. Daughter. The moving piece was a tribute to a loss and to friends.

The night ended on a lovely note with a string quartet doing the third movement of a Mendelssohn work and one written on his honeymoon.

It was every bit as beautiful as you'd hope music written at that point in a talented man's life would be and a fitting finish to a standout day.

I heard today that where you're dropped off in the world is everything.

Get it, Richmond.