"Every decision you've ever and never made exists in an unimaginably vast ensemble of parallel universes."
It was a last minute decision that landed me at a play about how each decision we choose produces a new outcome.
No telling what might have happened if I'd made a different decision, but it couldn't possibly have been as rewarding or entertaining as seeing a play that begins with a repeated discussion of licking your elbow.
TheatreLAB's Cellar series was previewing "Constellations," an award-winning two-person play about not just meeting someone and falling in love, but all the variations in how that could play out. The beauty of the story was that with each scene in the relationship of a beekeeper and a quantum physicist, we got to see a host of outcomes based on word choice, inflection or attitude.
You better believe I saw the correlation to real life.
Besides it being the fastest hour of science and romance I've ever spent in a theater, I apparently needed to be there to up my science smarts learning about multiverses as opposed to universes. But where it really got under my skin was in thinking how we choose to respond to every single conversation can result in wholly different endings. It's all about choice.
When every scene (meeting at a barbecue, making love the first time, proposing) backs up for a replay, the characters move to an alternate universe where they have another chance to have that conversation again with different results. Tedious as that could sound, it's actually wildly compelling, all the more so for how the two seem to grow closer experiencing each possibility.
Audra Honaker played the physicist with all the nervy, repressed energy of a woman with more to offer than she'd had the opportunity to share, with beekeeper Trevor Craft's easygoing vulnerability providing the ideal complement. And I have to say, in a play where lines are repeated over and over, having two strong actors who can create entire new scenarios from the same words is nothing short of riveting.
At times I felt like I was at a tennis match, my head turning side to side to fully absorb whichever actor was speaking, though the best scenes were those where I could watch the one react to the other's lines because the interplay between them was completely engaging.
Walking out, the woman behind me said to no one in particular, "I love that play!" and I couldn't resist seconding that opinion, even though it was my first time seeing it.
Truth is, I'm sorely tempted to go back again just to watch these two flex their well-toned acting muscles creating serious onstage chemistry. Oh, sure, and to further my understanding of multiverses.
But let's be real, these days I'm also inordinately fond of being reminded of life's infinite possibilities. It is all about choice.
Showing posts with label audra honaker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label audra honaker. Show all posts
Monday, April 23, 2018
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
The Fourth Was With Us
Call me oblivious, but I'd never noticed the swift creek at Swift Creek Mill Theatre before.
It's not like I hadn't been there, I just hadn't heard the roar of the creek that I did today, undoubtedly a result of the almost non-stop rain we've had since Prince died. And roaring is no exaggeration. The original gristmill must have been wildly productive with that kind of water behind it.
Foto Boy and I were there for "Little Shop of Horrors," which, like the creek, I hadn't seen before. Oh, sure, I'd seen the 1986 film version but the play? Never.
And the eight-month run at Swift Creek Mill in 1986? That was the year I landed in Richmond and was far too busy adjusting to life in the county after Dupont Circle to pay attention to the local theater scene. Today allowed me to correct that.
Our pre-show lunch of salads, Nicoise and Cobb, at Garnett's ran long and as we slid into our seats a few short minutes before curtain, the woman next to us observed, "You're late!" and then smiled to show she was joking.
Everyone's a mother (or grandmother) at Swift Creek it seems.
Everything about the play was fun and well-executed, from helium-voiced Audra almost unrecognizable in a blond pageboy wig as Audrey, to Ian's earnest and nebbishy Seymour to Adam's shape-shifting takes on too many characters to count - the abusive dentist, the Life magazine reporter, the bum barfing on the street, Mrs. Luce - to the do-wop girls acting as a Greek chorus in bouffants, everybody hit their marks and projected energetic devotion to the comedy horror story.
Director Tom Width ably filled in for the actor who usually plays shop owner Mr. Mushnik, giving us a different "Little Shop" than most people have seen.
It was also a thrill to hear Audra and Ian sing "Suddenly Seymour," a song I've heard plenty of times at the Ghostlight After Party and any number of theater parties, but never live as part of the show.
Let's just say I can see why certain boys love to ham it up singing it after a few drinks.
And when all was said and done, the action wrapped up with a gaping Audrey II advancing on the theater audience while leaves and branches dropped down from the lighting to engulf us.
What else would we do during intermission but trek down to the creek to admire its high water and relentless rushing despite the enormous tree trunks clogging it? When I requested that Foto Boy snap me in front of this watery marvel, he tells me his cloud is full.
Do I even have a cloud, I ask of him. "No, of course you don't, you're Karen," he says. Which means if, as the cast sang, the meek will inherit, chances are slim I'll be getting any of that action, either.
Not meek
Don't have a cloud
Slow to notice a creek
Living out loud
Surely there's a song in there, right?
It's not like I hadn't been there, I just hadn't heard the roar of the creek that I did today, undoubtedly a result of the almost non-stop rain we've had since Prince died. And roaring is no exaggeration. The original gristmill must have been wildly productive with that kind of water behind it.
Foto Boy and I were there for "Little Shop of Horrors," which, like the creek, I hadn't seen before. Oh, sure, I'd seen the 1986 film version but the play? Never.
And the eight-month run at Swift Creek Mill in 1986? That was the year I landed in Richmond and was far too busy adjusting to life in the county after Dupont Circle to pay attention to the local theater scene. Today allowed me to correct that.
Our pre-show lunch of salads, Nicoise and Cobb, at Garnett's ran long and as we slid into our seats a few short minutes before curtain, the woman next to us observed, "You're late!" and then smiled to show she was joking.
Everyone's a mother (or grandmother) at Swift Creek it seems.
Everything about the play was fun and well-executed, from helium-voiced Audra almost unrecognizable in a blond pageboy wig as Audrey, to Ian's earnest and nebbishy Seymour to Adam's shape-shifting takes on too many characters to count - the abusive dentist, the Life magazine reporter, the bum barfing on the street, Mrs. Luce - to the do-wop girls acting as a Greek chorus in bouffants, everybody hit their marks and projected energetic devotion to the comedy horror story.
Director Tom Width ably filled in for the actor who usually plays shop owner Mr. Mushnik, giving us a different "Little Shop" than most people have seen.
It was also a thrill to hear Audra and Ian sing "Suddenly Seymour," a song I've heard plenty of times at the Ghostlight After Party and any number of theater parties, but never live as part of the show.
Let's just say I can see why certain boys love to ham it up singing it after a few drinks.
And when all was said and done, the action wrapped up with a gaping Audrey II advancing on the theater audience while leaves and branches dropped down from the lighting to engulf us.
What else would we do during intermission but trek down to the creek to admire its high water and relentless rushing despite the enormous tree trunks clogging it? When I requested that Foto Boy snap me in front of this watery marvel, he tells me his cloud is full.
Do I even have a cloud, I ask of him. "No, of course you don't, you're Karen," he says. Which means if, as the cast sang, the meek will inherit, chances are slim I'll be getting any of that action, either.
Not meek
Don't have a cloud
Slow to notice a creek
Living out loud
Surely there's a song in there, right?
Sunday, October 18, 2015
An Afternoon of Woe
I sold Eliza down the river for history and tragedy.
It wasn't that I didn't want to see the 50th anniversary restored print of "My Fair Lady," I did, but I couldn't justify passing up the funniest park ranger ever or an abridged teenage love story for it.
And, just for the record, I did see a movie (several, actually), improbably enough of the Civil War.
Ranger Mike Gorman - one part photography geek, one part dedicated historian and one part stand-up comedian - was giving a talk and slide show entitled "Richmond, 1865." If, like me, you'd attended "Richmond, 1864," you knew there was no funnier or more informative way to spend an hour without alcohol.
What I love about his presentations is that he does all the work while the audience reaps all the fascinating results.
Leading us on a virtual tour of the city using photographs, he zooms in, blows up and points out minute details an amateur like me would never notice otherwise.
So he's showing us a picture of the laboratory buildings on Belle Isle (and by laboratory, he means girls and women stuffing gun powder in things to be shot) and then zooms in on the far distance where we can clearly see Monroe's tomb in Hollywood Cemetery a mile away.
Like a twisted scientist, he says thing like, "Look, I'll blow that up again. Because I can," and then gives an evil chuckle. Hilarious. Or, about staging photographs back then, "They faked a shot? Of course they did!"
But I also learn so much at his talks, like when he showed us the Gallego flour mills, the largest in the world at the time, and shares that they were 15 stories high in an era when reinforced steel was unknown. Or a photograph of Union graves on Belle Isle when I'd had no clue that had ever been the case.
It wouldn't be a Gorman talk without the picture of NDH - that's "nasty, dead horse" for Gorman virgins - floating in the canal, which he turns into a "movie" by combining it with another view of NDH.
Shots of Lee once he returned to Richmond were taken behind his house on the day Lincoln died and intended to send a message that the war was over.Time to move on, rebels.
One seated shot exposed what Gorman called a "big male no-no," white socks with black shoes. Scratched on the negative was "do not use" because fashion faux pas don't become a losing general apparently. Showing a detail of a standing shot, he showed us graffiti on Lee's house: the word "devil" scratched on a brick behind him.
See? Richmond's tagging problem can't be blamed on VCU students. It goes back to the Civil War.
The presentation ended on a particularly amusing shot of ships in the river, which, once he blew up a detail, showed a man standing naked in the water. "Expose yourself to history," Mike had written across the man's twigs and berries.
With pleasure, as long as it's history cheerleader Mike Gorman doing the exposing.
My exposure to literature, which followed, wasn't nearly as amusing, but it was awfully succinct.
Quill Theater had invited the public to come watch their final dress rehearsal of their 55-minute, six actor touring production of "Romeo and Juliet" at Shafer Street Playhouse.
I don't think I could have invented a good enough reason not to watch love's heavy burden sink a couple of teenagers.
Bonus: I can't help but appreciate a production of "Romeo and Juliet" where the actors playing the leads seem young enough to be believable.
And it never hurts a tragedy to have its light moments courtesy of John Mincks playing a woman, in this case, Juliet's nurse (the cap alone was pure gold). Or, especially for middle and high school audiences, the superb diction of someone like David Janosik or Audra Honaker playing so many roles and making the language accessible to all.
Although I'm far from the target audience for this kind of production - feel free to use every last word of Shakespeare's text and I promise I won't get bored if it's well acted - it was fun watching the classic story unfold in record time.
"The Compleat Works of Wm. Shakespeare, Abridged" aside, the only briefer Shakespeare I ever saw was an acting class' ten-minute version of "Hamlet" that had the audience in hysterics when the Queen said, "I am poisoned," and tossed her cup to the floor pronto.
But today's "Romeo and Juliet" did accomplish one lovely thing and that was deliver nearly an hour of talented actors reciting some of the most romantic lines in the English language.
Oh, she teaches the torches to burn bright.
And no amount of dancing all night can compare to that.
It wasn't that I didn't want to see the 50th anniversary restored print of "My Fair Lady," I did, but I couldn't justify passing up the funniest park ranger ever or an abridged teenage love story for it.
And, just for the record, I did see a movie (several, actually), improbably enough of the Civil War.
Ranger Mike Gorman - one part photography geek, one part dedicated historian and one part stand-up comedian - was giving a talk and slide show entitled "Richmond, 1865." If, like me, you'd attended "Richmond, 1864," you knew there was no funnier or more informative way to spend an hour without alcohol.
What I love about his presentations is that he does all the work while the audience reaps all the fascinating results.
Leading us on a virtual tour of the city using photographs, he zooms in, blows up and points out minute details an amateur like me would never notice otherwise.
So he's showing us a picture of the laboratory buildings on Belle Isle (and by laboratory, he means girls and women stuffing gun powder in things to be shot) and then zooms in on the far distance where we can clearly see Monroe's tomb in Hollywood Cemetery a mile away.
Like a twisted scientist, he says thing like, "Look, I'll blow that up again. Because I can," and then gives an evil chuckle. Hilarious. Or, about staging photographs back then, "They faked a shot? Of course they did!"
But I also learn so much at his talks, like when he showed us the Gallego flour mills, the largest in the world at the time, and shares that they were 15 stories high in an era when reinforced steel was unknown. Or a photograph of Union graves on Belle Isle when I'd had no clue that had ever been the case.
It wouldn't be a Gorman talk without the picture of NDH - that's "nasty, dead horse" for Gorman virgins - floating in the canal, which he turns into a "movie" by combining it with another view of NDH.
Shots of Lee once he returned to Richmond were taken behind his house on the day Lincoln died and intended to send a message that the war was over.Time to move on, rebels.
One seated shot exposed what Gorman called a "big male no-no," white socks with black shoes. Scratched on the negative was "do not use" because fashion faux pas don't become a losing general apparently. Showing a detail of a standing shot, he showed us graffiti on Lee's house: the word "devil" scratched on a brick behind him.
See? Richmond's tagging problem can't be blamed on VCU students. It goes back to the Civil War.
The presentation ended on a particularly amusing shot of ships in the river, which, once he blew up a detail, showed a man standing naked in the water. "Expose yourself to history," Mike had written across the man's twigs and berries.
With pleasure, as long as it's history cheerleader Mike Gorman doing the exposing.
My exposure to literature, which followed, wasn't nearly as amusing, but it was awfully succinct.
Quill Theater had invited the public to come watch their final dress rehearsal of their 55-minute, six actor touring production of "Romeo and Juliet" at Shafer Street Playhouse.
I don't think I could have invented a good enough reason not to watch love's heavy burden sink a couple of teenagers.
Bonus: I can't help but appreciate a production of "Romeo and Juliet" where the actors playing the leads seem young enough to be believable.
And it never hurts a tragedy to have its light moments courtesy of John Mincks playing a woman, in this case, Juliet's nurse (the cap alone was pure gold). Or, especially for middle and high school audiences, the superb diction of someone like David Janosik or Audra Honaker playing so many roles and making the language accessible to all.
Although I'm far from the target audience for this kind of production - feel free to use every last word of Shakespeare's text and I promise I won't get bored if it's well acted - it was fun watching the classic story unfold in record time.
"The Compleat Works of Wm. Shakespeare, Abridged" aside, the only briefer Shakespeare I ever saw was an acting class' ten-minute version of "Hamlet" that had the audience in hysterics when the Queen said, "I am poisoned," and tossed her cup to the floor pronto.
But today's "Romeo and Juliet" did accomplish one lovely thing and that was deliver nearly an hour of talented actors reciting some of the most romantic lines in the English language.
Oh, she teaches the torches to burn bright.
And no amount of dancing all night can compare to that.
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Nothin' Like a Dame
Where better to go after a positively exhausting week than Bali Ha'i?
Despite the fact that my train wasn't getting in until almost 6:30 and despite that it was late and arrived closer to 7, I managed to get home, unpack, get cleaned up and present myself at the November Theater to meet my date for Virginia Repertory's opening night performance of "South Pacific."
Only a cock-eyed optimist would even attempt such a thing.
On the way over, I ran into a favorite server and his adorable beagle, both recently moved to Jackson Ward. He shared the newcomer's perspective (loves the vibe and touch of grit) and I the more long time resident's (nine years) view, all while scratching those velvet ears (the beagle's, not Michael's).
Opening night meant not only a gold medallion on our programs, but lots of familiar faces - the gallerist and his perky wife, the dancer I hadn't seen in years, and more actors, directors and theater people than should probably be in one place at any given time (you know, in case something happens).
My date was the perfect one because, somehow, some way, he'd never once in his middle-aged life seen "South Pacific." I shouldn't be surprised; I took him to see "Mame" last year and he'd mentioned then it was his first live musical.
Yes, I had myself an enchanted evening virgin.
The last time I'd seen this play live, it had been at the Landmark and no less a magnificent voice than Robert Goulet had played Emile, the handsome French planter. Fabulous as that touring production had been (just hearing him live had been a thrill), it wasn't like seeing talent I knew in classic roles.
I can't convey how satisfying it was to see the multi-talented Matt Shofner as one of the seabees singing "Nothin' Like a Dame." Now that's acting. Just as impressive was Audra Honaker with her impish demeanor and beautiful voice as one of the nurses. Nicole Oberleitner oozed sass and sex whether she was front and center or off to the side striking a pose.
And speaking of the nurses, during the "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair" number, the women wore fabulous '40s-style bathing suits that were the talk of the ladies' room during intermission.
My only observation was that there weren't many '40s-era bodies with hips and curves to go along with those era-appropriate costumes. Let's face it, women's figures just aren't what they used to be.
Ditto wardrobes. In the remember when category, one of the nurse's lines alluded to the fact that the Navy only allowed them to bring two evening gowns overseas with them. How many women today even own one? I do have one long dress but I'm not certain it would qualify as an evening gown.
Waiting in line for the ladies room gave me a chance to check out the framed newspaper articles from the Richmond Times Dispatch, Chicago Tribune and Honolulu State Bulletin hanging in the hallway, all of them actual copies from the war years. Overheard in line: "My nephew is in Wilco. Have you heard of them?" and soon after, "Well, yes, but Paul McCartney's still playing live and he's in his '70s."
So he's not younger than Springtime. Still, I heard it was a terrific show.
As my companion pointed out, it would have also been nice to have some maps hanging there, too, for a geography lesson to go along with the history lesson to clarify all these islands' locations in the play.
I was happy to hear that my date was very much enjoying the play, although still adjusting somewhat to the notion of a musical and actors singing so much of the plot. "It's such a great story!" he raved, admitting he was completely engrossed in the saga as it unfolded.
He was lucky to be seeing such a fine production. Both leads, Branch Fields and Stacey Cabel, were spot-on as the lovers from different sides of the world. Her Arkansas accent came and went occasionally but his French one never wavered and his bass voice was the kind that does things to a woman. It didn't hurt the appeal that the sets were so evocative of the South Seas with bamboo screens, palm trees and the illusion of water and sand on the island.
Because he's recently out of a relationship, my date admitted that half the time lately, he's been trying to avoid romantic entertainment. The other half, he's been seeking it out. "I'm just too much of a romantic," he said with a shrug, explaining why he was enjoying this so much.
Join the club, honey bun. From "A Wonderful Guy" to "This Nearly Was Mine," a person inclined to romance could pretty much melt into her seat the entire time.
Let's just say it was some enchanted evening.
Despite the fact that my train wasn't getting in until almost 6:30 and despite that it was late and arrived closer to 7, I managed to get home, unpack, get cleaned up and present myself at the November Theater to meet my date for Virginia Repertory's opening night performance of "South Pacific."
Only a cock-eyed optimist would even attempt such a thing.
On the way over, I ran into a favorite server and his adorable beagle, both recently moved to Jackson Ward. He shared the newcomer's perspective (loves the vibe and touch of grit) and I the more long time resident's (nine years) view, all while scratching those velvet ears (the beagle's, not Michael's).
Opening night meant not only a gold medallion on our programs, but lots of familiar faces - the gallerist and his perky wife, the dancer I hadn't seen in years, and more actors, directors and theater people than should probably be in one place at any given time (you know, in case something happens).
My date was the perfect one because, somehow, some way, he'd never once in his middle-aged life seen "South Pacific." I shouldn't be surprised; I took him to see "Mame" last year and he'd mentioned then it was his first live musical.
Yes, I had myself an enchanted evening virgin.
The last time I'd seen this play live, it had been at the Landmark and no less a magnificent voice than Robert Goulet had played Emile, the handsome French planter. Fabulous as that touring production had been (just hearing him live had been a thrill), it wasn't like seeing talent I knew in classic roles.
I can't convey how satisfying it was to see the multi-talented Matt Shofner as one of the seabees singing "Nothin' Like a Dame." Now that's acting. Just as impressive was Audra Honaker with her impish demeanor and beautiful voice as one of the nurses. Nicole Oberleitner oozed sass and sex whether she was front and center or off to the side striking a pose.
And speaking of the nurses, during the "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair" number, the women wore fabulous '40s-style bathing suits that were the talk of the ladies' room during intermission.
My only observation was that there weren't many '40s-era bodies with hips and curves to go along with those era-appropriate costumes. Let's face it, women's figures just aren't what they used to be.
Ditto wardrobes. In the remember when category, one of the nurse's lines alluded to the fact that the Navy only allowed them to bring two evening gowns overseas with them. How many women today even own one? I do have one long dress but I'm not certain it would qualify as an evening gown.
Waiting in line for the ladies room gave me a chance to check out the framed newspaper articles from the Richmond Times Dispatch, Chicago Tribune and Honolulu State Bulletin hanging in the hallway, all of them actual copies from the war years. Overheard in line: "My nephew is in Wilco. Have you heard of them?" and soon after, "Well, yes, but Paul McCartney's still playing live and he's in his '70s."
So he's not younger than Springtime. Still, I heard it was a terrific show.
As my companion pointed out, it would have also been nice to have some maps hanging there, too, for a geography lesson to go along with the history lesson to clarify all these islands' locations in the play.
I was happy to hear that my date was very much enjoying the play, although still adjusting somewhat to the notion of a musical and actors singing so much of the plot. "It's such a great story!" he raved, admitting he was completely engrossed in the saga as it unfolded.
He was lucky to be seeing such a fine production. Both leads, Branch Fields and Stacey Cabel, were spot-on as the lovers from different sides of the world. Her Arkansas accent came and went occasionally but his French one never wavered and his bass voice was the kind that does things to a woman. It didn't hurt the appeal that the sets were so evocative of the South Seas with bamboo screens, palm trees and the illusion of water and sand on the island.
Because he's recently out of a relationship, my date admitted that half the time lately, he's been trying to avoid romantic entertainment. The other half, he's been seeking it out. "I'm just too much of a romantic," he said with a shrug, explaining why he was enjoying this so much.
Join the club, honey bun. From "A Wonderful Guy" to "This Nearly Was Mine," a person inclined to romance could pretty much melt into her seat the entire time.
Let's just say it was some enchanted evening.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Applesauce and Rolos
I love it when people give me experiences for gifts.
A theater-loving friend who'd seen "Mame" at Virginia Rep gave me two tickets, saying he was eager for me to see it so we could discuss it. I promptly chose to join the blue-hair set at a Wednesday matinee and invited a friend to join me.
Since the theater is only a few blocks from my house, I suggested he meet me here and we'd walk over. "Can we leave a little earlier so I don't have to walk so fast? he e-mailed me.
While that sounds like a typically middle-aged man thing to ask - I've learned that they're rarely as enthusiastic walkers as I am- I let it slide because I knew he'd been sick the past few days. So when I joined him on the sunny front porch, I made sure to set my body to old-man-stroll rather than my usual after-burner speed.
As it turned out, we could have crawled over because the play was delayed due to some casting changes. One of the leads was out with complications of a root canal, so there'd been some shifting of parts. We might see a script in hand (we did).
Waiting for things to get rolling, my friend took the time to chide me for calling him a middle-aged man who ignores his doctor's advice in my last blog post about him. He clarified that he was only ignoring the medical advice for a day, not forever. That old chestnut.
When he asked me what the play was about, I drew on my memory of having seen the movie just last November and summarized it for him. Bohemian inherits nephew and proceeds to school him on how to live life to the max. And since this was a musical version, add in song and dance.
Luckily, he'd brought plenty of cough drops to silence his lung hacking, although most of the raucous song and dance numbers would have easily drowned him out. We were both particularly knocked out by the energy and swagger of "That's How Young I Feel," but maybe there's a reason for that.
How old do you think I am?
Somewhere between 40 and death?
Ouch.
Even a non-fashionable sort such as me had to be impressed with the scads of costume changes throughout. An old timer might say it was the equivalent of watching a Cher show.
Emily Skinner was terrific as Mame but Audra Honaker stole a lot of scenes with her portrayal of the timid nanny Miss Gooch and the siren she becomes under Mame's tutelage.
The scene where Mame visits her beau's plantation in the South provided one of the best lines. When told that the war between the states is over, Mother Burnside replies, "Don't give me any of that Appomattox applesauce!"
Discussing how much we were enjoying the show at intermission, my friend said, "It pays to be Karen's beard." While he didn't mean beard in terms of sexual orientation, he was referring to providing company so I didn't have to go alone, not that I have a problem with that.
But what was really generous was that he told me that he used to feel awkward doing things by himself until he met me five years ago and saw how often I was my own date. After he began venturing out solo, a friend of his followed suit, crediting him for being a great example. He wanted me to have the credit.
Such a nice middle-aged guy.
Not only did he buy us Rolos to share at intermission, but he only asked me to slow down once on the walk home. And now I can't wait to thank the gift-giver with a satisfying conversation about what I just saw.
Life is a banquet but it's unlikely I'll ever starve with friends giving me - and sharing - such enjoyable experiences.
No gift wrapping required.
A theater-loving friend who'd seen "Mame" at Virginia Rep gave me two tickets, saying he was eager for me to see it so we could discuss it. I promptly chose to join the blue-hair set at a Wednesday matinee and invited a friend to join me.
Since the theater is only a few blocks from my house, I suggested he meet me here and we'd walk over. "Can we leave a little earlier so I don't have to walk so fast? he e-mailed me.
While that sounds like a typically middle-aged man thing to ask - I've learned that they're rarely as enthusiastic walkers as I am- I let it slide because I knew he'd been sick the past few days. So when I joined him on the sunny front porch, I made sure to set my body to old-man-stroll rather than my usual after-burner speed.
As it turned out, we could have crawled over because the play was delayed due to some casting changes. One of the leads was out with complications of a root canal, so there'd been some shifting of parts. We might see a script in hand (we did).
Waiting for things to get rolling, my friend took the time to chide me for calling him a middle-aged man who ignores his doctor's advice in my last blog post about him. He clarified that he was only ignoring the medical advice for a day, not forever. That old chestnut.
When he asked me what the play was about, I drew on my memory of having seen the movie just last November and summarized it for him. Bohemian inherits nephew and proceeds to school him on how to live life to the max. And since this was a musical version, add in song and dance.
Luckily, he'd brought plenty of cough drops to silence his lung hacking, although most of the raucous song and dance numbers would have easily drowned him out. We were both particularly knocked out by the energy and swagger of "That's How Young I Feel," but maybe there's a reason for that.
How old do you think I am?
Somewhere between 40 and death?
Ouch.
Even a non-fashionable sort such as me had to be impressed with the scads of costume changes throughout. An old timer might say it was the equivalent of watching a Cher show.
Emily Skinner was terrific as Mame but Audra Honaker stole a lot of scenes with her portrayal of the timid nanny Miss Gooch and the siren she becomes under Mame's tutelage.
The scene where Mame visits her beau's plantation in the South provided one of the best lines. When told that the war between the states is over, Mother Burnside replies, "Don't give me any of that Appomattox applesauce!"
Discussing how much we were enjoying the show at intermission, my friend said, "It pays to be Karen's beard." While he didn't mean beard in terms of sexual orientation, he was referring to providing company so I didn't have to go alone, not that I have a problem with that.
But what was really generous was that he told me that he used to feel awkward doing things by himself until he met me five years ago and saw how often I was my own date. After he began venturing out solo, a friend of his followed suit, crediting him for being a great example. He wanted me to have the credit.
Such a nice middle-aged guy.
Not only did he buy us Rolos to share at intermission, but he only asked me to slow down once on the walk home. And now I can't wait to thank the gift-giver with a satisfying conversation about what I just saw.
Life is a banquet but it's unlikely I'll ever starve with friends giving me - and sharing - such enjoyable experiences.
No gift wrapping required.
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Time Makes You Bolder
Fleetwood Mac and summer just go together.
My best friend and I saw them play two nights at the Capital Center in 1977 on the "Rumours" tour. Even know what I wore both nights (we won't talk about the mauve and lavender tube top and cut-offs).
Fast forward 37 Augusts and tonight I was right up front at Hardywood for the latest in the Cover to Cover series to see "Rumours" played start to finish by a bunch of theater people I have seen both onstage and at the ghost light afterparty many times.
But his time, it was personal. These songs are the soundtrack of my misspent youth.
With terrific songs to work with and a crack band, including for the first time, Brian Cruse, a bass player I first met when he was in Marionette and have since seen in many guises (tonight he oozed the '70s in a white leisure suit and shades, his waist-length hair down for the first time I'd ever seen), each song was a testament to its immortality.
Audra doing "Dreams"? Everyone sang along. Nick killing it on "Never Going Back"? Lindsey would be proud.
Before "Go Your Own Way," Hedwig (no Angry Inch), aka Matt, came out in full regalia sipping a beer and spitting it out on my right sandal.
I couldn't have been more honored.
It was hotter than hell in Hardywood, the crowd was huge and boasted all ages and the smell of sweat permeated the room by the time we heard Katrinah do the sublime "Songbird."
Someone handed me a cluster of miniature pink roses, apropos of nothing.
Maggie sang "Gold Dust Woman," directing the line, "Rock on ancient queen" directly at Hedwig, who returned it with a hip cock and look of his own.
The encore necessarily had to feature earlier and later stuff. Rhiannon set the Stevie fanatics (easy to spot in their stylized version of '70s dress) on fire and while I was happy to hear "Landslide," I'd have preferred "Silver Springs."
An '80s song followed but since I'd long since abandoned the Mac by then, I barely recognized it. But I did get both the first Stevie Nicks solo albums when they came out.
So while Stevie's "Edge of Seventeen" wasn't what I would have chosen to play as the closer for "Cover to Cover: Rumours," it was a crowd-pleasing, rabble rousing finish to a very hot, sweaty Fleetwood Mac kind of a night and I sang and danced along to every note.
Just not in a mauve and lavender tube top and cut-offs...although they might have been cooler.
My best friend and I saw them play two nights at the Capital Center in 1977 on the "Rumours" tour. Even know what I wore both nights (we won't talk about the mauve and lavender tube top and cut-offs).
Fast forward 37 Augusts and tonight I was right up front at Hardywood for the latest in the Cover to Cover series to see "Rumours" played start to finish by a bunch of theater people I have seen both onstage and at the ghost light afterparty many times.
But his time, it was personal. These songs are the soundtrack of my misspent youth.
With terrific songs to work with and a crack band, including for the first time, Brian Cruse, a bass player I first met when he was in Marionette and have since seen in many guises (tonight he oozed the '70s in a white leisure suit and shades, his waist-length hair down for the first time I'd ever seen), each song was a testament to its immortality.
Audra doing "Dreams"? Everyone sang along. Nick killing it on "Never Going Back"? Lindsey would be proud.
Before "Go Your Own Way," Hedwig (no Angry Inch), aka Matt, came out in full regalia sipping a beer and spitting it out on my right sandal.
I couldn't have been more honored.
It was hotter than hell in Hardywood, the crowd was huge and boasted all ages and the smell of sweat permeated the room by the time we heard Katrinah do the sublime "Songbird."
Someone handed me a cluster of miniature pink roses, apropos of nothing.
Maggie sang "Gold Dust Woman," directing the line, "Rock on ancient queen" directly at Hedwig, who returned it with a hip cock and look of his own.
The encore necessarily had to feature earlier and later stuff. Rhiannon set the Stevie fanatics (easy to spot in their stylized version of '70s dress) on fire and while I was happy to hear "Landslide," I'd have preferred "Silver Springs."
An '80s song followed but since I'd long since abandoned the Mac by then, I barely recognized it. But I did get both the first Stevie Nicks solo albums when they came out.
So while Stevie's "Edge of Seventeen" wasn't what I would have chosen to play as the closer for "Cover to Cover: Rumours," it was a crowd-pleasing, rabble rousing finish to a very hot, sweaty Fleetwood Mac kind of a night and I sang and danced along to every note.
Just not in a mauve and lavender tube top and cut-offs...although they might have been cooler.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Everyone Needs a Person to Turn Their Pages
The one thing we couldn't be thankful for at tonight's Ghost Light afterparty was heat.
Maybe it was there, but if it was, the females in the room couldn't feel it for the second annual 1st GLAPsgiving celebration (also given a shout-out as the weirdest GLAP ever), but Princess Di sat next to me with his Cosmo and I used his furnace-like body heat to warm my hands throughout the evening.
Hostess Maggie wore a fetching green circle skirt with "thank you" written in a dozen languages on it. Host Matt wore a headband with a giant acorn and pine needles. The guy who volunteered to run sound, a funk DJ at WRIR, was not only new to the job but new to the space. There was only one microphone instead of two and it only worked when it wanted to.
And nobody ever did find pianist Sandy's sustain pedal ("So we're going to have some choppy-sounding piano tonight, y'all").
"It's a technological shit storm," Matt warned.
"Usually I'm thankful for heat," Maggie said, shivering in one of Matt's bustiers.
Given that the set was one of a glitter-encrusted igloo (albeit with a rainbow over it), the absence of warmth fit right in.
The festivities got off to an amazing start with her saying, "First I'd like to thank the lord. You can snap along," and then she, Matt and Audra launched into Lorde's "Royals."
With nothing but the occasional bongo beats and snapping fingers, they nailed the song everyone knows.
Let me be your ruler (ruler)
You can call me queen bee
And baby, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule
Let me live that fantasy
Nick from New York (who's apparently in the cast of "Fiddler on the Roof") was invaluable tonight, at one point calling out during a lull, "I have a pop song in my back pocket if you need it."
Wouldn't the world be a better place if we all had a good pop song in our back pocket?
Matt and Ali did a goosebump-inducing version of "I'd Give It All for You" when their two incredible voices harmonized.
When Audra and Ali got up to sing a song from "Little Women," Ali introduced it by saying, "This is where one of us dies," host Maggie broke in, saying hilariously, "Don't spoil it for the people!"
We already knew it was going to be serious because Ali spit out her gum.
Another devastating song followed when Brittney did a song from "Les Miz," Princess DI's least favorite musical.
The always clever Starlet Knight said she was going to sing the only Thanksgiving song she knew and did the sweetly retro "Counting My Blessings" while wearing a spotted Cruella deVille jacket.
From there, the weirdness flowed like syrup on pancakes.
Sam, the sound guy did "Fly Me to the Moon," a standard you might not expect from a funk DJ.
Joe did a dramatic reading of a hand-written letter he found on the sidewalk that began with, "Boo, I know things be whack," and moved through discussions of (and he'd warned us about the adult language in his "dramatic reading") both his anatomy and that of the babe he was writing to and where he'd like to see things placed.
With each reference to a body part, we in the audience began snapping our fingers in applause, beatnik-style.
When he finished, both Maggie and Ian bowed down at his feet.
The first half closed with "The Circle of Life" because what is a GLAP without it and the accompanying interpretive dance, bongos and myriad shaker balls?
Instead of the usual pizza, there was a GLAPSgiving feast of fried chicken and a yard of cookies (really, the box was 36 inches long) while dance music (Janet Jackson, Go-Gos, Tony Basil) blared.
The second act got off with a bang as Nicole got up to sing "As We Stumble Along" from "The Drowsy Chaperone," which I'd just seen a couple weeks ago.
Hilariously, she started singing, then stopped and said of herself, "She already messed up."
Maggie, who is also in the show, smiled and said, "We're in week four of our run," and pianist Sandy said, "Take 2" for the rousing tribute to alcohol.
Could there be a more appropriate song at GLAP? I think not.
Nick and guitarist Steven (whom Maggie called Jesus when she couldn't remember his name) did "Dock of the Bay," Nick promising to "break it down" for us.
Another old chestnut that got rolled out was "Suddenly Seymour" with David and Audra acting out as well as singing, while a couple slow danced over by the bathroom to it.
Wearing her Hello, Kitty gloves for warmth, Starlet returned to sing "Romance is a Slow Dance," perhaps inspired by what was going on nearby.
Suddenly it was last call and we finished out the night with Audra and Ali singing.
"This is from a musical about co-joined twins," Audra explained. "It's kind of a creepy story."
But the song, "I Will Never Leave You" was gorgeous and surprisingly well executed considering the hour and alcohol consumption, while it had the princess next to me all but tearing up.
I had to break it down for him. Don't be cryin' at the GLAP, Boo. That just be whack.
Maybe it was there, but if it was, the females in the room couldn't feel it for the second annual 1st GLAPsgiving celebration (also given a shout-out as the weirdest GLAP ever), but Princess Di sat next to me with his Cosmo and I used his furnace-like body heat to warm my hands throughout the evening.
Hostess Maggie wore a fetching green circle skirt with "thank you" written in a dozen languages on it. Host Matt wore a headband with a giant acorn and pine needles. The guy who volunteered to run sound, a funk DJ at WRIR, was not only new to the job but new to the space. There was only one microphone instead of two and it only worked when it wanted to.
And nobody ever did find pianist Sandy's sustain pedal ("So we're going to have some choppy-sounding piano tonight, y'all").
"It's a technological shit storm," Matt warned.
"Usually I'm thankful for heat," Maggie said, shivering in one of Matt's bustiers.
Given that the set was one of a glitter-encrusted igloo (albeit with a rainbow over it), the absence of warmth fit right in.
The festivities got off to an amazing start with her saying, "First I'd like to thank the lord. You can snap along," and then she, Matt and Audra launched into Lorde's "Royals."
With nothing but the occasional bongo beats and snapping fingers, they nailed the song everyone knows.
Let me be your ruler (ruler)
You can call me queen bee
And baby, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule
Let me live that fantasy
Nick from New York (who's apparently in the cast of "Fiddler on the Roof") was invaluable tonight, at one point calling out during a lull, "I have a pop song in my back pocket if you need it."
Wouldn't the world be a better place if we all had a good pop song in our back pocket?
Matt and Ali did a goosebump-inducing version of "I'd Give It All for You" when their two incredible voices harmonized.
When Audra and Ali got up to sing a song from "Little Women," Ali introduced it by saying, "This is where one of us dies," host Maggie broke in, saying hilariously, "Don't spoil it for the people!"
We already knew it was going to be serious because Ali spit out her gum.
Another devastating song followed when Brittney did a song from "Les Miz," Princess DI's least favorite musical.
The always clever Starlet Knight said she was going to sing the only Thanksgiving song she knew and did the sweetly retro "Counting My Blessings" while wearing a spotted Cruella deVille jacket.
From there, the weirdness flowed like syrup on pancakes.
Sam, the sound guy did "Fly Me to the Moon," a standard you might not expect from a funk DJ.
Joe did a dramatic reading of a hand-written letter he found on the sidewalk that began with, "Boo, I know things be whack," and moved through discussions of (and he'd warned us about the adult language in his "dramatic reading") both his anatomy and that of the babe he was writing to and where he'd like to see things placed.
With each reference to a body part, we in the audience began snapping our fingers in applause, beatnik-style.
When he finished, both Maggie and Ian bowed down at his feet.
The first half closed with "The Circle of Life" because what is a GLAP without it and the accompanying interpretive dance, bongos and myriad shaker balls?
Instead of the usual pizza, there was a GLAPSgiving feast of fried chicken and a yard of cookies (really, the box was 36 inches long) while dance music (Janet Jackson, Go-Gos, Tony Basil) blared.
The second act got off with a bang as Nicole got up to sing "As We Stumble Along" from "The Drowsy Chaperone," which I'd just seen a couple weeks ago.
Hilariously, she started singing, then stopped and said of herself, "She already messed up."
Maggie, who is also in the show, smiled and said, "We're in week four of our run," and pianist Sandy said, "Take 2" for the rousing tribute to alcohol.
Could there be a more appropriate song at GLAP? I think not.
Nick and guitarist Steven (whom Maggie called Jesus when she couldn't remember his name) did "Dock of the Bay," Nick promising to "break it down" for us.
Another old chestnut that got rolled out was "Suddenly Seymour" with David and Audra acting out as well as singing, while a couple slow danced over by the bathroom to it.
Wearing her Hello, Kitty gloves for warmth, Starlet returned to sing "Romance is a Slow Dance," perhaps inspired by what was going on nearby.
Suddenly it was last call and we finished out the night with Audra and Ali singing.
"This is from a musical about co-joined twins," Audra explained. "It's kind of a creepy story."
But the song, "I Will Never Leave You" was gorgeous and surprisingly well executed considering the hour and alcohol consumption, while it had the princess next to me all but tearing up.
I had to break it down for him. Don't be cryin' at the GLAP, Boo. That just be whack.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
When One is in Town, One Amuses Oneself
I hate people who are not serious about meals. It is so shallow of them.
My dinner date and I were plenty serious about it.
We met at Rowland's and despite them having been open for an hour, he'd taken the first table and already ordered the wine.
Somebody has to.
He was into livestock and I was feeling pescetarian, but that didn't preclude all kinds of food and restaurant talk.
Things like, will we ever have a true Spanish tapas place in Richmond?
After careful consideration, I chose the Sweet Jesus oysters to start, partly because of the name and partly because they come from St. Mary's County, Maryland, site of my last family reunion.
The bivalves were sweet, the mignonette was a hot red pepper and I sucked every bit of juice from the shells while my date ate ravioli.
To each his own.
Next he got the Kick Ass meatloaf (it was an evening of colorfully-named menu items), promising me a slice, and I ordered one of the specials, sauteed soft shelled crab with corn pudding and haricots vert.
The two crispy crabs were smallish, but even sweeter than the oysters and the corn pudding studded with whole kernels underneath every bit as good.
His meatloaf was well-executed and moist, but we weren't fans of the overly sweet tomato sauce topping.
You know what I like cooked into the top of my meatloaf? Onions, that's it.
My date was the curious type, asking my opinion on so many things - patios, New Year's Eve parties, what Richmond needs- and as one who likes to be talked to, I was happy to share my opinions.
I'm a spring inside a clock, wind me up and I'll talk.
When it came time for dessert, we found that we had a shared opinion (dessert = chocolate), but with none on the menu, settled for mixed berry bread pudding with whipped cream and strawberries.
We'd barely finished when it was almost curtain time and we had to jet.
Tonight was preview night for "The Importance of Being Earnest" at Richmond Triangle Players and we didn't want to miss one word of Oscar Wilde's superbly witty dialogue.
Come on, a play with the subtitle, "A trivial comedy for serious people"? Yes, please.
Well, in the first place, girls never marry the men they flirt with.
It turned out to be a unique seating arrangement because I was in the first row and he was in the fourth with the added bonus of my friend Pru in the second.
All very cozy.
The set impressed from the start, moving from Algie's city digs to Jack's bucolic country house, out and in.
The only way to behave to a woman is to make love to her if she is pretty and to someone else if she is plain.
In a magnificent bit of casting, Robert Throckmorton played Lady Bracknell, all spitting righteousness in purple taffeta and painted-on eyebrows.
But the entire cast was strong and dressed beautifully in 19th century costumes.
Though I may marry someone else and marry often, nothing can alter my true devotion to you.
Ian Stearns' Algie was impossibly young, dashing and handsome while Thomas Cunningham (a personal favorite from so many Richmond Shakespeare performances and readings) perfectly evoked the more staid and less confident Jack.
Stephen Ryan, another actor who impresses every time I see him, as the butler Merriman almost stole the show with his understated subservience and well-placed eye rolls.
The very essence of romance is uncertainty.
Because it was preview night, the actors had no idea what the audience's reactions would be and there were times when our laughter prevented us from hearing the next line.
It's a great problem to have and I've not doubt they'll allow a bit more space in between certain lines going forward.
In matters of grave importance, style, not sincerity, is the vital thing.
It was delightful seeing Audra Honaker play Gwen, a very different role than any I'd ever seen her in.
At turns coquettish, her beautiful hair piled on top of her head, and at times a spitfire, afraid her man has betrayed her, she shone every moment onstage, all eyes on fire, pursed lips and longing glances.
If I am occasionally a little over-dressed, I make up for it by being always immensely over-educated.
The play had two brief intermissions and at each one the strangers around me marveled at their delight in the production.
I went to the ladies' room during the second and overheard a woman say to a friend, "Sometimes these previews are a train wreck, but they're doing great!"
That was putting it mildly.
Ripeness can be trusted. Young women are green.
They should have that line put on a t-shirt and sell it during intermission. Looking at tonight's crowd, they'd make a fortune.
Three addresses always inspire confidence, even in tradesmen.
By the end of the play, I think everyone in the room knew that they'd just seen a hit.
With this being the first official production since the merger of Henley Street and Richmond Shakespeare, it's now pretty obvious what a brilliant move that was.
I can't wait for word to get around about what a must-see this production is for Fall.
I'll just sit back nonchalantly and say, yea, I was there preview night, with both a male and female date.
Pretty Oscar Wilde-like, no?
And, just for the record, this ripe woman's favorite line of dialogue?
Oh, I don't think I would care to catch a sensible man. I shouldn't know what to talk to him about.
I mean that earnestly.
My dinner date and I were plenty serious about it.
We met at Rowland's and despite them having been open for an hour, he'd taken the first table and already ordered the wine.
Somebody has to.
He was into livestock and I was feeling pescetarian, but that didn't preclude all kinds of food and restaurant talk.
Things like, will we ever have a true Spanish tapas place in Richmond?
After careful consideration, I chose the Sweet Jesus oysters to start, partly because of the name and partly because they come from St. Mary's County, Maryland, site of my last family reunion.
The bivalves were sweet, the mignonette was a hot red pepper and I sucked every bit of juice from the shells while my date ate ravioli.
To each his own.
Next he got the Kick Ass meatloaf (it was an evening of colorfully-named menu items), promising me a slice, and I ordered one of the specials, sauteed soft shelled crab with corn pudding and haricots vert.
The two crispy crabs were smallish, but even sweeter than the oysters and the corn pudding studded with whole kernels underneath every bit as good.
His meatloaf was well-executed and moist, but we weren't fans of the overly sweet tomato sauce topping.
You know what I like cooked into the top of my meatloaf? Onions, that's it.
My date was the curious type, asking my opinion on so many things - patios, New Year's Eve parties, what Richmond needs- and as one who likes to be talked to, I was happy to share my opinions.
I'm a spring inside a clock, wind me up and I'll talk.
When it came time for dessert, we found that we had a shared opinion (dessert = chocolate), but with none on the menu, settled for mixed berry bread pudding with whipped cream and strawberries.
We'd barely finished when it was almost curtain time and we had to jet.
Tonight was preview night for "The Importance of Being Earnest" at Richmond Triangle Players and we didn't want to miss one word of Oscar Wilde's superbly witty dialogue.
Come on, a play with the subtitle, "A trivial comedy for serious people"? Yes, please.
Well, in the first place, girls never marry the men they flirt with.
It turned out to be a unique seating arrangement because I was in the first row and he was in the fourth with the added bonus of my friend Pru in the second.
All very cozy.
The set impressed from the start, moving from Algie's city digs to Jack's bucolic country house, out and in.
The only way to behave to a woman is to make love to her if she is pretty and to someone else if she is plain.
In a magnificent bit of casting, Robert Throckmorton played Lady Bracknell, all spitting righteousness in purple taffeta and painted-on eyebrows.
But the entire cast was strong and dressed beautifully in 19th century costumes.
Though I may marry someone else and marry often, nothing can alter my true devotion to you.
Ian Stearns' Algie was impossibly young, dashing and handsome while Thomas Cunningham (a personal favorite from so many Richmond Shakespeare performances and readings) perfectly evoked the more staid and less confident Jack.
Stephen Ryan, another actor who impresses every time I see him, as the butler Merriman almost stole the show with his understated subservience and well-placed eye rolls.
The very essence of romance is uncertainty.
Because it was preview night, the actors had no idea what the audience's reactions would be and there were times when our laughter prevented us from hearing the next line.
It's a great problem to have and I've not doubt they'll allow a bit more space in between certain lines going forward.
In matters of grave importance, style, not sincerity, is the vital thing.
It was delightful seeing Audra Honaker play Gwen, a very different role than any I'd ever seen her in.
At turns coquettish, her beautiful hair piled on top of her head, and at times a spitfire, afraid her man has betrayed her, she shone every moment onstage, all eyes on fire, pursed lips and longing glances.
If I am occasionally a little over-dressed, I make up for it by being always immensely over-educated.
The play had two brief intermissions and at each one the strangers around me marveled at their delight in the production.
I went to the ladies' room during the second and overheard a woman say to a friend, "Sometimes these previews are a train wreck, but they're doing great!"
That was putting it mildly.
Ripeness can be trusted. Young women are green.
They should have that line put on a t-shirt and sell it during intermission. Looking at tonight's crowd, they'd make a fortune.
Three addresses always inspire confidence, even in tradesmen.
By the end of the play, I think everyone in the room knew that they'd just seen a hit.
With this being the first official production since the merger of Henley Street and Richmond Shakespeare, it's now pretty obvious what a brilliant move that was.
I can't wait for word to get around about what a must-see this production is for Fall.
I'll just sit back nonchalantly and say, yea, I was there preview night, with both a male and female date.
Pretty Oscar Wilde-like, no?
And, just for the record, this ripe woman's favorite line of dialogue?
Oh, I don't think I would care to catch a sensible man. I shouldn't know what to talk to him about.
I mean that earnestly.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
15 Minutes of Fame
I'm feeling really lucky about all the art history-themed theater in town lately.
First there was "Red" about Mark Rothko and now there's "Pop" about Andy Warhol, being produced only for the fourth time, playing at Firehouse.
My only disappointment with the performance was not taking a front-row seat when it was offered because the play began with Warhol taking a Polaroid of the woman sitting in front of me, in the seat I turned down.
Curses!
Once I got over my error in judgement, I was dazzled by the circa 1968 costumes of Edie Sedgwick and Viva, two of Warhol's hangers-on and film subjects.
Much as I loved Viva's glammy, bell-bottomed jumpsuit, if it were 1968, I'd have to go with Edie's leopard mini to better show off the legs.
The play was narrated by the lovely (and formerly male) Candy Darling, star of many Warhol films, who won audience hearts with lines like, "It was a dark and stormy night and we were all at Andy's factory. It was the place to be when we had no one better to do."
Andy kept Viva around because of her intelligence, a fact she came to resent. "When you talk smart during all the sex, it's not dirty, it's art."
And there you have the basis of any Warhol film.
One of the most hysterical scenes, at least to this art history geek, was when a trio of abstract expressionists, Pollak, Kline and Motherwell, showed up as suspects in the shooting.
Warhol brilliantly puts them in their place, infuriating them by saying, "I'm such a fan of your work. It looks so easy and fun!"
I don't know if non-artsy types see how hilarious that is, but I laughed long and hard.
During intermission, the bar was serving mimosas ('cause it's Sunday!) and the play's signature drink, the Factory Fizz, which director Jase Smith had promised us before the show would make the second act even more fun.
Even sans drink, I had lots of fun during the second act, especially when Mrs. Warhol sang a eulogy for her "dead" son while he watched unhappily from the casket.
The showstopper was "Big Gun" about Valerie Solanas' anger at Warhol for losing her script of "Up Your Ass," the play she'd been hoping he would produce for her.
With Viva and Edie in opera-length white gloves singing back-up, Audra Honaker as Valerie nailed it as the angry feminist who'd written the SCUM Manifesto (Society for Cutting Up Men) and had a slight problem with all men.
Audra was the standout (even her dancing impressed), but the entire cast was strong, with Warhol's assistants (also playing hapless NYPD cops), Gerard and Ondine, especially strong on physical comedy, drug humor and dancing over people and couches.
And how can you not love a musical with a song called, "Untitled Brawl No. 1"?
Today's matinee was a pay-what-you-will performance and after a highly entertaining afternoon of art history with terrific singing and dancing, I'm not sure I paid nearly enough.
But then, I'm not sure I can afford to pay what it was worth.
First there was "Red" about Mark Rothko and now there's "Pop" about Andy Warhol, being produced only for the fourth time, playing at Firehouse.
My only disappointment with the performance was not taking a front-row seat when it was offered because the play began with Warhol taking a Polaroid of the woman sitting in front of me, in the seat I turned down.
Curses!
Once I got over my error in judgement, I was dazzled by the circa 1968 costumes of Edie Sedgwick and Viva, two of Warhol's hangers-on and film subjects.
Much as I loved Viva's glammy, bell-bottomed jumpsuit, if it were 1968, I'd have to go with Edie's leopard mini to better show off the legs.
The play was narrated by the lovely (and formerly male) Candy Darling, star of many Warhol films, who won audience hearts with lines like, "It was a dark and stormy night and we were all at Andy's factory. It was the place to be when we had no one better to do."
Andy kept Viva around because of her intelligence, a fact she came to resent. "When you talk smart during all the sex, it's not dirty, it's art."
And there you have the basis of any Warhol film.
One of the most hysterical scenes, at least to this art history geek, was when a trio of abstract expressionists, Pollak, Kline and Motherwell, showed up as suspects in the shooting.
Warhol brilliantly puts them in their place, infuriating them by saying, "I'm such a fan of your work. It looks so easy and fun!"
I don't know if non-artsy types see how hilarious that is, but I laughed long and hard.
During intermission, the bar was serving mimosas ('cause it's Sunday!) and the play's signature drink, the Factory Fizz, which director Jase Smith had promised us before the show would make the second act even more fun.
Even sans drink, I had lots of fun during the second act, especially when Mrs. Warhol sang a eulogy for her "dead" son while he watched unhappily from the casket.
The showstopper was "Big Gun" about Valerie Solanas' anger at Warhol for losing her script of "Up Your Ass," the play she'd been hoping he would produce for her.
With Viva and Edie in opera-length white gloves singing back-up, Audra Honaker as Valerie nailed it as the angry feminist who'd written the SCUM Manifesto (Society for Cutting Up Men) and had a slight problem with all men.
Audra was the standout (even her dancing impressed), but the entire cast was strong, with Warhol's assistants (also playing hapless NYPD cops), Gerard and Ondine, especially strong on physical comedy, drug humor and dancing over people and couches.
And how can you not love a musical with a song called, "Untitled Brawl No. 1"?
Today's matinee was a pay-what-you-will performance and after a highly entertaining afternoon of art history with terrific singing and dancing, I'm not sure I paid nearly enough.
But then, I'm not sure I can afford to pay what it was worth.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
With Witchcraft of His Wits
You gotta want it.
But if you do want it, you'll stand in line for an hour plus to get a ticket (having learned my lesson the first year when I got four people from the box office only to have them run out of tickets).
You'll grab slices of pizza from Tarrant's and eat them as you walk back, tickets in hand, to claim your seats and listen to the pre-show music. And if you want it, you'll devote four hours of your Saturday night to seeing it.
And that's when you'll know you're a Bootleg Shakespeare groupie. Tonight was my fourth attempt and my third success. And I did it all for Hamlet.
Henley Street's annual ode to the Bard always has the potential to be a major mess, yet never is. A month in advance, all the actors get their parts and scrips, which they study but don't rehearse. They come up with their own costumes and props, but still no rehearsal.
On the day of the show (beginning at an ungodly 7 a.m., an hour most of them surely never see), they spend the day blocking but not going through lines. So what the audience sees is as fresh as what the actors experience.
It's a recipe for disaster that inevitably proves the acting talent in this town with enough hilarity and inside jokes interspersed to keep everyone on their toes, both cast and crowd.
This year, it was at Virginia Rep (terribly convenient for me, a mere five blocks from home) instead of Barksdale, meaning way more seats available. The evening began with an announcement from Henley Street's Jacquie O, who enthused from the stage, "This year we turned no one away!"
That's what a fan wants to hear.
After a giveaway of a mug, two tickets to Henley Street's next production and a small ham (a "hamlet," get it?), we were informed that the only rule of Bootleg Shakespeare is no bad words. Naturally the onstage band begins by doing Radiohead's "Creep" and singing the lyric, "You're so f*cking special" just to clarify that f*ck is not a bad word.
Or, more likely, to demonstrate the attitude of a bootleg performance.
This "Hamlet" was done '90s-style, with disaffected youth, video games and the Pixies. Let's just say that Hamlet wore a Pogues t-shirt. Gertrude wore a pink suit, pillbox hat and white gloves. Poloniuswore a "Sticky Fingers" t-shirt.
Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence.
Henley Street's artistic director James Ricks (his hair dyed blond) played Hamlet in all his melancholy glory, whether stomping the stage in anger at his father's death or giving Ophelia the kiss-off speech.
At a bootleg show, actors often need to call for their lines (not having had any rehearsal) and it inevitably results in hysterical moments. Tonight, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, clad in trench coats and while picking up and moving each other, began calling for theirs, to great comic effect.
At one point, one ad-libbed, "We were supposed to bring a piece of paper and we didn't" to much laughter. Polonius appeared immediately after they left the stage, noting, "This business is well ended." Major applause.
He took me by the wrist and held me hard.
Another very funny scene came after Gertrude and Claudius had been informed that, "Your noble son is mad." Cue Hamlet in an untied red robe wearing goggles and swatting at the air. Passing by Gertrude, he casually says, "Hi, Mom!"
Soon after he's stuffing an entire banana in his mouth until he's unable to answer questions.
This is the very ecstasy of love.
Bootleg always uses modern touches to further the humor as when Polonius asks, "What do you read, my lord?" and Hamlet responds "Slanders, sir," holding up a copy of "Newsweek." When Rosencrantz and Guildenstern set out to do the king's bidding and see what's up with Hamlet, the three end up sitting on the edge of the stage smoking weed and playing video games
Hey, it was the '90s.
There is a kind of confession in your looks which your modesties have not craft enough to color.
Opehlia's descent into madness was well played by Audra Honaker who ends up looking like a cake-top decoration in full-skirted yellow tulle dress with pink belt and crazy eyes. When it came time for Hamlet's seminal speech, Ricks cracked wise, saying, "To be...line!"
He then exhorted the audience to read that speech with him and we did, first all together, then the women and then the men (giving a far inferior reading, I might add). Midway through that, Jacquie O. ran onstage in socks, pointing at her watch to move things along.
Soon after, when Hamlet decides to stage a play to show his uncle's guilt, he inquires about Polonius' acting experience. Frank Creasy brilliantly did his line with one minor addition, "I did, I played Julius Caesar," and then stepping forward and raising his eyebrows, he continued, "Coming this season to Henley Street Theater."
When the play within a play is being shown, an actor sits in a director's chair clearly labeled "Billy Christoper" no doubt a joke about the local director. The first act ended with the Pixies and the second act began with Ce-Lo's "Crazy," neither '90s songs yet both worked.
The first scene began while "Crazy" was still being sung with Hamlet shaving his own head. There's a moment we won't soon forget.
During the gravedigger's scene as he pulls up skulls, one is wearing a red clown's nose and Hamlet notes, "I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest." Playing in the background for this scene was Blood, Sweat and Tears' "And When I Die." Brilliant.
One thing very obvious this year was how infrequently actors called for lines compared to past years.
There's no value judgment to that statement because either way works for the audience.
But late in the play when John Mincks was playing a priest, he called for his line. When he clearly didn't remember, the prompter gave him more of it, eventually all of it.
"What she said," Mincks said in lieu of those lines and the audience roared. No question that best costume went to Phil Crosby in the role of Osric. He wore a splendid red velvet jacket, a bad wig and a foppish hat that only added to his very mannered line delivery.
He was a hoot.
But because something was rotten in Denmark, we had to end with a big fight scene, albeit one using foam noodles and plastic swords. At the end of the evening some three and a half hours later, the audience gave a standing ovation for the brave people who'd given us our annual dose of bootleg.
People like Deejay Gray who stepped in at the last minute and had only 24 hours to learn his lines. Even so, I'd have to say that he played a queen brilliantly. Likewise, when he and John Mincks played sailors, the camp was off the charts.
And naturally there was the big finish with local legend Scott Wichmann coming out in sunglasses and looking buff in fatigues to play Fortinbras at the end. The Bard said it best and all I can add is "amen."
What a piece of work is man.
Okay, I can add something else to that.
What a piece of work is man and woman...never more so than when combined to give us Bootleg Shakespeare.
Ay, there's the rub. I gotta have it.
But if you do want it, you'll stand in line for an hour plus to get a ticket (having learned my lesson the first year when I got four people from the box office only to have them run out of tickets).
You'll grab slices of pizza from Tarrant's and eat them as you walk back, tickets in hand, to claim your seats and listen to the pre-show music. And if you want it, you'll devote four hours of your Saturday night to seeing it.
And that's when you'll know you're a Bootleg Shakespeare groupie. Tonight was my fourth attempt and my third success. And I did it all for Hamlet.
Henley Street's annual ode to the Bard always has the potential to be a major mess, yet never is. A month in advance, all the actors get their parts and scrips, which they study but don't rehearse. They come up with their own costumes and props, but still no rehearsal.
On the day of the show (beginning at an ungodly 7 a.m., an hour most of them surely never see), they spend the day blocking but not going through lines. So what the audience sees is as fresh as what the actors experience.
It's a recipe for disaster that inevitably proves the acting talent in this town with enough hilarity and inside jokes interspersed to keep everyone on their toes, both cast and crowd.
This year, it was at Virginia Rep (terribly convenient for me, a mere five blocks from home) instead of Barksdale, meaning way more seats available. The evening began with an announcement from Henley Street's Jacquie O, who enthused from the stage, "This year we turned no one away!"
That's what a fan wants to hear.
After a giveaway of a mug, two tickets to Henley Street's next production and a small ham (a "hamlet," get it?), we were informed that the only rule of Bootleg Shakespeare is no bad words. Naturally the onstage band begins by doing Radiohead's "Creep" and singing the lyric, "You're so f*cking special" just to clarify that f*ck is not a bad word.
Or, more likely, to demonstrate the attitude of a bootleg performance.
This "Hamlet" was done '90s-style, with disaffected youth, video games and the Pixies. Let's just say that Hamlet wore a Pogues t-shirt. Gertrude wore a pink suit, pillbox hat and white gloves. Poloniuswore a "Sticky Fingers" t-shirt.
Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence.
Henley Street's artistic director James Ricks (his hair dyed blond) played Hamlet in all his melancholy glory, whether stomping the stage in anger at his father's death or giving Ophelia the kiss-off speech.
At a bootleg show, actors often need to call for their lines (not having had any rehearsal) and it inevitably results in hysterical moments. Tonight, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, clad in trench coats and while picking up and moving each other, began calling for theirs, to great comic effect.
At one point, one ad-libbed, "We were supposed to bring a piece of paper and we didn't" to much laughter. Polonius appeared immediately after they left the stage, noting, "This business is well ended." Major applause.
He took me by the wrist and held me hard.
Another very funny scene came after Gertrude and Claudius had been informed that, "Your noble son is mad." Cue Hamlet in an untied red robe wearing goggles and swatting at the air. Passing by Gertrude, he casually says, "Hi, Mom!"
Soon after he's stuffing an entire banana in his mouth until he's unable to answer questions.
This is the very ecstasy of love.
Bootleg always uses modern touches to further the humor as when Polonius asks, "What do you read, my lord?" and Hamlet responds "Slanders, sir," holding up a copy of "Newsweek." When Rosencrantz and Guildenstern set out to do the king's bidding and see what's up with Hamlet, the three end up sitting on the edge of the stage smoking weed and playing video games
Hey, it was the '90s.
There is a kind of confession in your looks which your modesties have not craft enough to color.
Opehlia's descent into madness was well played by Audra Honaker who ends up looking like a cake-top decoration in full-skirted yellow tulle dress with pink belt and crazy eyes. When it came time for Hamlet's seminal speech, Ricks cracked wise, saying, "To be...line!"
He then exhorted the audience to read that speech with him and we did, first all together, then the women and then the men (giving a far inferior reading, I might add). Midway through that, Jacquie O. ran onstage in socks, pointing at her watch to move things along.
Soon after, when Hamlet decides to stage a play to show his uncle's guilt, he inquires about Polonius' acting experience. Frank Creasy brilliantly did his line with one minor addition, "I did, I played Julius Caesar," and then stepping forward and raising his eyebrows, he continued, "Coming this season to Henley Street Theater."
When the play within a play is being shown, an actor sits in a director's chair clearly labeled "Billy Christoper" no doubt a joke about the local director. The first act ended with the Pixies and the second act began with Ce-Lo's "Crazy," neither '90s songs yet both worked.
The first scene began while "Crazy" was still being sung with Hamlet shaving his own head. There's a moment we won't soon forget.
During the gravedigger's scene as he pulls up skulls, one is wearing a red clown's nose and Hamlet notes, "I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest." Playing in the background for this scene was Blood, Sweat and Tears' "And When I Die." Brilliant.
One thing very obvious this year was how infrequently actors called for lines compared to past years.
There's no value judgment to that statement because either way works for the audience.
But late in the play when John Mincks was playing a priest, he called for his line. When he clearly didn't remember, the prompter gave him more of it, eventually all of it.
"What she said," Mincks said in lieu of those lines and the audience roared. No question that best costume went to Phil Crosby in the role of Osric. He wore a splendid red velvet jacket, a bad wig and a foppish hat that only added to his very mannered line delivery.
He was a hoot.
But because something was rotten in Denmark, we had to end with a big fight scene, albeit one using foam noodles and plastic swords. At the end of the evening some three and a half hours later, the audience gave a standing ovation for the brave people who'd given us our annual dose of bootleg.
People like Deejay Gray who stepped in at the last minute and had only 24 hours to learn his lines. Even so, I'd have to say that he played a queen brilliantly. Likewise, when he and John Mincks played sailors, the camp was off the charts.
And naturally there was the big finish with local legend Scott Wichmann coming out in sunglasses and looking buff in fatigues to play Fortinbras at the end. The Bard said it best and all I can add is "amen."
What a piece of work is man.
Okay, I can add something else to that.
What a piece of work is man and woman...never more so than when combined to give us Bootleg Shakespeare.
Ay, there's the rub. I gotta have it.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Much Ado About Estrogen
As much of a theater lover as I am, I am devoted to plays turned on their ears.
One of my all time favorite examples was seeing TheaterVirginia do an all-black version of "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof."
Talk about taking Southern dysfunction to a whole new level.
Likewise, last July Firehouse did a staged reading of a gender-reversed "Hamlet," here, that I still rave to people about.
And tonight I got all those girl parts in comedic form with a gender-reversed "Much Ado About Nothing."
I knew enough to arrive by 7:00 to ensure a seat (and a good one, at that) for all the fun. It was a smart move.
"For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?"
Tonight's performance was dedicated to Freddy Kaufman, an actor who had originally been part of the cast until he took ill.
Having seen his comedic presence grace more than one stage, I appreciated the loss.
"I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue."
Molly Hood, who had played Hamlet, here deftly played the confirmed bachelor Benedick, even as he fought off feelings for the strong-willed Beatrice.
Director Billy Christopher Maupin doubled as Beatrice, as fierce a girlfriend as I've ever had.
"Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably."
Unlike the last time girls were playing boys, the crowd tonight made no obvious sounds of disbelief when certain lines came from an unlikely face.
Granted, there are far more female characters in this play than "Hamlet," so maybe we got used to it more quickly.
"Let me be that I am and seek not to alter me."
It's difficult to make some men understand, but given how male-centric Shakespeare's plays are, it's a huge kick to see one staged with eighteen women and only four men.
With some top-notch local actresses on board, it was a pleasure to hear them speak the words of men.
"For I will be horribly in love with her," Benedick admits.
Horribly in love is so much more intense than terribly in love, I think.
"Do you not love me?"
"No more than reason."
So much of the reading was laugh-out-loud funny because of all the gender issues, relationship and love talk and the stubbornness of the unmarried.
"When I said I would a die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I was married."
As the actors moved around (for actors at these staged readings thankfully never actually sit and read) on stage, it was hard not to appreciate the talent involved in selling yourself as the opposite sex.
One of my favorites was Lisa Kotula as the hilarious Dogberry, he of the endless malapropisms ("Thou will be condemned into everlasting redemption for this") and usually played by someone far less attractive.
But aside from all the mistaken identities, trickery, and purported infidelity, it's really just that old chestnut of a hard-headed woman and a confirmed bachelor who are destined to be together.
It was out of their hands.
"Come, I will have thee."
By the end of the play, everyone was married so the dancing and singing began. Whether they lived happily ever after or not, we'll never know.
But surely being horribly in love is a good start.
One of my all time favorite examples was seeing TheaterVirginia do an all-black version of "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof."
Talk about taking Southern dysfunction to a whole new level.
Likewise, last July Firehouse did a staged reading of a gender-reversed "Hamlet," here, that I still rave to people about.
And tonight I got all those girl parts in comedic form with a gender-reversed "Much Ado About Nothing."
I knew enough to arrive by 7:00 to ensure a seat (and a good one, at that) for all the fun. It was a smart move.
"For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?"
Tonight's performance was dedicated to Freddy Kaufman, an actor who had originally been part of the cast until he took ill.
Having seen his comedic presence grace more than one stage, I appreciated the loss.
"I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue."
Molly Hood, who had played Hamlet, here deftly played the confirmed bachelor Benedick, even as he fought off feelings for the strong-willed Beatrice.
Director Billy Christopher Maupin doubled as Beatrice, as fierce a girlfriend as I've ever had.
"Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably."
Unlike the last time girls were playing boys, the crowd tonight made no obvious sounds of disbelief when certain lines came from an unlikely face.
Granted, there are far more female characters in this play than "Hamlet," so maybe we got used to it more quickly.
"Let me be that I am and seek not to alter me."
It's difficult to make some men understand, but given how male-centric Shakespeare's plays are, it's a huge kick to see one staged with eighteen women and only four men.
With some top-notch local actresses on board, it was a pleasure to hear them speak the words of men.
"For I will be horribly in love with her," Benedick admits.
Horribly in love is so much more intense than terribly in love, I think.
"Do you not love me?"
"No more than reason."
So much of the reading was laugh-out-loud funny because of all the gender issues, relationship and love talk and the stubbornness of the unmarried.
"When I said I would a die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I was married."
As the actors moved around (for actors at these staged readings thankfully never actually sit and read) on stage, it was hard not to appreciate the talent involved in selling yourself as the opposite sex.
One of my favorites was Lisa Kotula as the hilarious Dogberry, he of the endless malapropisms ("Thou will be condemned into everlasting redemption for this") and usually played by someone far less attractive.
But aside from all the mistaken identities, trickery, and purported infidelity, it's really just that old chestnut of a hard-headed woman and a confirmed bachelor who are destined to be together.
It was out of their hands.
"Come, I will have thee."
By the end of the play, everyone was married so the dancing and singing began. Whether they lived happily ever after or not, we'll never know.
But surely being horribly in love is a good start.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Un/Fortunately, it's Pass/Fail
Best to begin with the highbrow portion of the evening and degenerate from there.
So we started at Firehouse for "You Don't Know Me: A Trio of One Acts," part of the Acts of Faith Festival.
And, yes, I'm a heathen but they let anybody in, probably hoping to make converts.
The plays were all about those most impolitic of topics, namely race, religion and redemption.
"What Strong Fences Make" and "Beirut Rocks," both by Israel Horovitz, dealt with Arab/Israeli issues and were separated by an interpretive dance piece done first in silence and then to Talking Heads' "Life During Wartime."
In the second piece about Jewish and Arab prejudices, Audra Honaker was especially strong as the Arab girl with a good reason to hate Jews, even as her reaction crossed the line.
I appreciated a scene in that play where the Jewish guy chided his new roommate for sloppy language. "I'm a Lit major, Jake," he shouted, ""Words are inspirational to me,"
In other words, choose your words carefully and say what you mean.
True in context, true in real life.
The final play was one I'd seen a bit of at the Acts of Faith Preview and dealt with racial prejudice at a predominantly white college in Ohio in 1949 .
The subject matter (illegitimate children, unmarried sex and bias against blacks in the early '50s) was strong, a worthy match for Katrinah Carol Lewis' performance as the author who had to live through it all.
The premise of the play was, you want to hear why there's s much violence in the author's books? Listen to her life story.
And we did.
After our culture fix,we headed for dinner around the corner at Cellar Door (where the sandwich board said they were open for lunch and dinner every day but closed for Superbowl), where I immediately ran into a bartender friend.
"You missed a good show last night," he grinned.
I also missed oysters and dinner with an Italian winemaker last night, but as far as I can tell, I can only be in one place at a time.
Goodness knows I try to prove otherwise.
We ended up having a fine supper (Prosciutto-wrapped scallops in beurre blanc, Peruvian chicken and roasted corn salad for me) with reduced price Malbec (always a treat to find happy hour on a weekend).
The final stop of the day was at Sticky Rice (I know, right?) for the final round of their Iron Man chef competition, pitting the Richmond chef against the Baltimore and D.C. chefs.
A Sticky Rice face off, so to speak.
Since I hadn't been in Sticky Rice for years, there was some adjustment period while I took in the crowd, the music, and the vibe before the smoke machine started up and the three finalists came through the front door to music.
It was pretty hysterical and the whole thing was being filmed and broadcast throughout the restaurant.
Don't let anyone tell you there's no good entertainment in RVA on a Sunday night.
My partner in crime and I found a bar stool and claimed it, with me ordering a Hornitos to transition to where we were.
Which was a very noisy bar with a (for all intents and purposes) meaningless competition going on while a comedian made loud jokes with the judges and some people snapped pictures.
No, really.
Although we stayed through the first round of tastings by the judges, the winner wasn't announced, so we may never know which Sticky Rice chef took home the trophy.
On the other hand, we'd revisited a place once recommended in an out-of-state newspaper as a hip place for a visitor to go.
No, really, let's not send our out-of-town guests to Sticky Rice as a representation of who we are.
Even for the Tater Tots.
But all experiences are good conversational fodder and this one was no exception.
We made up stories about the high maintenance-looking blond talking to the guys next to us.
We watched the two cameramen all but trip over each other trying to film the Ironman no one was paying attention to.
The funniest exchange of the evening involved a past event.
"Remember what you said the other day?"
A puzzled look. "Give me the footnotes."
My advice? Take notes if you have to.
No one said it was going to be easy to keep up.
The fun is in trying.
So we started at Firehouse for "You Don't Know Me: A Trio of One Acts," part of the Acts of Faith Festival.
And, yes, I'm a heathen but they let anybody in, probably hoping to make converts.
The plays were all about those most impolitic of topics, namely race, religion and redemption.
"What Strong Fences Make" and "Beirut Rocks," both by Israel Horovitz, dealt with Arab/Israeli issues and were separated by an interpretive dance piece done first in silence and then to Talking Heads' "Life During Wartime."
In the second piece about Jewish and Arab prejudices, Audra Honaker was especially strong as the Arab girl with a good reason to hate Jews, even as her reaction crossed the line.
I appreciated a scene in that play where the Jewish guy chided his new roommate for sloppy language. "I'm a Lit major, Jake," he shouted, ""Words are inspirational to me,"
In other words, choose your words carefully and say what you mean.
True in context, true in real life.
The final play was one I'd seen a bit of at the Acts of Faith Preview and dealt with racial prejudice at a predominantly white college in Ohio in 1949 .
The subject matter (illegitimate children, unmarried sex and bias against blacks in the early '50s) was strong, a worthy match for Katrinah Carol Lewis' performance as the author who had to live through it all.
The premise of the play was, you want to hear why there's s much violence in the author's books? Listen to her life story.
And we did.
After our culture fix,we headed for dinner around the corner at Cellar Door (where the sandwich board said they were open for lunch and dinner every day but closed for Superbowl), where I immediately ran into a bartender friend.
"You missed a good show last night," he grinned.
I also missed oysters and dinner with an Italian winemaker last night, but as far as I can tell, I can only be in one place at a time.
Goodness knows I try to prove otherwise.
We ended up having a fine supper (Prosciutto-wrapped scallops in beurre blanc, Peruvian chicken and roasted corn salad for me) with reduced price Malbec (always a treat to find happy hour on a weekend).
The final stop of the day was at Sticky Rice (I know, right?) for the final round of their Iron Man chef competition, pitting the Richmond chef against the Baltimore and D.C. chefs.
A Sticky Rice face off, so to speak.
Since I hadn't been in Sticky Rice for years, there was some adjustment period while I took in the crowd, the music, and the vibe before the smoke machine started up and the three finalists came through the front door to music.
It was pretty hysterical and the whole thing was being filmed and broadcast throughout the restaurant.
Don't let anyone tell you there's no good entertainment in RVA on a Sunday night.
My partner in crime and I found a bar stool and claimed it, with me ordering a Hornitos to transition to where we were.
Which was a very noisy bar with a (for all intents and purposes) meaningless competition going on while a comedian made loud jokes with the judges and some people snapped pictures.
No, really.
Although we stayed through the first round of tastings by the judges, the winner wasn't announced, so we may never know which Sticky Rice chef took home the trophy.
On the other hand, we'd revisited a place once recommended in an out-of-state newspaper as a hip place for a visitor to go.
No, really, let's not send our out-of-town guests to Sticky Rice as a representation of who we are.
Even for the Tater Tots.
But all experiences are good conversational fodder and this one was no exception.
We made up stories about the high maintenance-looking blond talking to the guys next to us.
We watched the two cameramen all but trip over each other trying to film the Ironman no one was paying attention to.
The funniest exchange of the evening involved a past event.
"Remember what you said the other day?"
A puzzled look. "Give me the footnotes."
My advice? Take notes if you have to.
No one said it was going to be easy to keep up.
The fun is in trying.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
