My Fair Lady

All three of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival plays I’ve seen this year (Cymbeline, Heart of Robin Hood, and now My Fair Lady) not only feature dynamic female protagonists, but the women playing the protagonists find depth in the most light-hearted plays and humor in the heaviest. 

Everyone knows Lerner & Loewe’s musical adaptation of Shaw’s Pygmalion. It’s standard fair for community and high school theaters across the country, not to mention a delightful film starring Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison. So one can imagine how it could become over-wrought and boring. That makes it up to the artists retelling this classic to do it in a way that makes it worth going to the theater instead of just popping in the DVD. Rachel Warren, under the direction of Amanda Dehnert, tells the story of Eliza Doolittle in a way that I’ve never considered, and yet perfectly explains my single greatest problem with the script.

Why does Eliza go back to Higgins? He’s clearly an awful, abusive man. For years and years I thought it was just the American happy-ending pastiche – the guy gets the girl, consequences be damned. But Warren found a part of Eliza that I’d never seen before. The simple body gesture of flinching when Alfred P. Doolittle (Anthony Heald) or Higgins (Jonathan Haugen) makes a sudden movement in her direction tells a story of a girl who was beat by her alcoholic father. Her relationship with him, being scared of him and oh so easy for him to manipulate carries over into all her other relationships with men in the play. This is especially true of that with Higgins, but also with Freddy (Ken Robinson) and Pickering (David Kelly). When she leaves Higgins, she jumps right into the arms of the first man who will have her, even though Freddy clearly has nothing going for him – he’s spent weeks literally rolling around on the street where she lives. Why? In the scene after the break-up in Mrs. Higgins’ house (played by Kate Mulligan) she tells Higgins that the difference between a lady and a flower-girl is not in how she acts or speaks but in how she is treated. She denies herself any agency, and puts it all into the hands of Higgins who treats all women like flower-girls and Pickering who treats them all like ladies.

So when she told Higgins goodbye forever and slammed the door behind her, I was happy for her, like I always am. And that slamming door was so final! Director Dehnert approached the story wanting to find the messiness in it, and to that end put the chorus in seats on stage, let the wires hang out, and put all her actors on stage for their warm-ups before the show started. All of this paid off when the huge shop door up stage opened at the end of the “good-bye forever” scene and slammed in Henry Higgins’ face. It felt very Ibsenesque. But where the power of the slamming door in A Doll House is that that’s the end, its power of OSF’s My Fair Lady is that it isn’t. It’s irony that A Doll House, by a playwright who reveled in the messiness of life, has a clean happy ending – Nora gets agency over her own life. But My Fair Lady, a light-hearted musical by the American fantasy-makers Lerner & Loewe, has an untidy heart-breaking ending – Eliza is trapped in a cycle of abusive relationships and this story will repeat itself until she’s dead or becomes Nora Helmer.

The Heart of Robin Hood

I’ve been reading Michael Shurtleff’s Audition this past week. It was a book I was assigned in undergrad but never read. I found it in my parents’ house this summer and, since I’m doing a bunch of auditions again, I thought I might as well do my homework. 

I wonder if I could still get credit for it…

Anyway, one of the tips that Shurtleff has is to play opposites. For example, let’s pretend your character is trying to get Hamlet to stop swinging his sword around Polonius’ tapestry, because, hey, you don’t really want your son to become guilty on manslaughter. What’s the opposite of that? Maybe that you really would like him to kill Polonius because the old creep is basically your homicidal husband’s canary, and it would make sure that Hamlet no longer came near you with his theatrical mousetraps and visions of the dead. If you keep both of those opposites in play, it makes your performance much more dynamic and gives you as an actor much more to work with.

And how does this ties into OSF’s The Heart of Robin Hood? That play is a good example of playing opposites in an entire production. On its surface, it’s a silly play. Almost Monty Python silly. Eduardo Placer’s Bishop of York called Eric Idle’s performance as Pontius Pilate in The Life of Bryan vividly to mind. But what made this play really good was the pervading rot of violence and injustice that the silliness was in constant conflict with. Playwright David Farr wrote a villain with no redeeming qualities: Prince John thinks nothing of rape, infanticide, or using religion to legitimize his misdeeds. Michael Elich sells the role by, once again playing opposites. He does all these awful things, but he does them with a sense of playfulness and glee that makes his character all the more disgusting, and thus the conflict in the play so much more dire.

So opposites. They’re a part of the craft that I never gave any thought to, but now that I do, I see how they can not only exponentially increase the quality of a single actor’s performance, but that of an entire production as well.

I really should try to remember who assigned me that book.

The Blacklist

Judging from the pilot, NBC’s new crime show The Blacklist has the potential to be a well-crafted thriller, but will contribute very little to the genre. I’ll start with the negatives first. I watched the pilot with my dad, and we could tell in the first five minutes what would happen in the last five minutes: the innocent child would be saved, the bad guy would die a dramatic death, and the criminal mastermind and gorgeous rookie would continue as tenuous team to episode two. We even predicted the twist that creator Jon Bokenkamp is probably saving for the later in the season: that cunning criminal mastermind Raymond “Red” Reddington (James Spader) is really the long-lost father of the beautiful and driven young FBI agent Elizabeth Keen (Megan Boone). But we may not be 100 percent on target: the cliffhanger at the end of the pilot caught us both off-guard. 

What’s really striking, though, is the staging. And I am going to call it that even though this is TV because the way that episode director Joe Carnahan blocked it was very similar to how a stage director would set his characters to establish positions of dominance. Of particular note was the central position that Red occupied, such as kneeling on the seal in the center of the FBI foyer with the entire focus of the rest of the ensemble on him, or sitting in the board room centered once again by the FBI seal on the projector behind him as well as by the other characters in the scene. I also loved the staging of episode antagonist Ranko Zamani’s (Jamie Jackson) inevitable death.

Long story short, the writing and acting is compelling and entertaining, but doesn’t break in barriers or contribute anything new to the genre. Carnahan’s directing was intriguing in its use of theatrical techniques, but that seemed to be a one-off gig for him. What will define this show are entertaining formulas that have been tried and true since at least the early 90s with Silence of the Lambs. I think it’ll be a fun but forgettable show.

The Revenants

I’ve found love in Portland. In a basement. Oh, it’s not for me. It’s two other people  There’s a man and a woman. They have chemistry. Their undead spouses are chained to the wall.

The Reformers’ new production The Revenants is about love. There may be zombies inside, and there may be zombies outside, but the story is about the conflicted love that Gary (Chris Murray) and Karen (Christy Bigelow) have for each other and their spouses (Jennifer Elkington and Sean Doran). Murray and Bigelow are riveting. Not to say they’re perfect – some of their lines (on Thursday the 3^rd) sounded learned. But the majority of their performances stuck me to my seat, even with the zombified Elkington looming over me.

The horror genre’s easy to do campy, which sometimes works. And the Reformers could have taken that route and potentially still had an entertaining play. But Murray and Bigelow’s choices – made honestly from a place of love, loss and feeling lost – make the difference between entertaining and enchanting. They treat the play as serious drama, rather than a theatrical homage to a popular genre. Not to say there isn’t humor or gore – there are zombies chained to the wall, close enough to touch me in my aisle seat. A couple times I almost fell into the lap of the guy next to me. But the bulk of the humor comes from the Murray and Bigelow’s attempt to cope with their impossible situation. The rest comes from Caitlin Fisher-Draeger’s awesome effects and movement work with Elkington and Doran.

Long story short, the Reformers chose to tell a love story that takes place during a zombie apocalypse, instead of a zombie story with a love-interest in it. That choice, to ground the fantastic in reality, makes The Revenants an exciting play, and is helping make the Reformers one of my favorite theater troupes in Portland. 

My Introduction to "America's Next Top Model"

I watched America’s Next Top Model for the first time this week. I will never get that hour of my life back. It was one of the most superficial things I’ve ever seen. The overall structure was very internet-y: the cuts between shots gave it an epileptic pace, and the countdown format was like something you would see on Cracked.com (they were counting down the “top ten flirty moments” of their twentieth cycle). The overall theme was not fashion, but cattiness and superfluous drama. It’s appeal is not so much industry like TheSartorialist.com, but rather gossip like TMZ. The stereotyped characters – the flamboyant yet incisive gay, the manic pixie dream boy, the slightly mannish trans woman – also made the show thoughtless noise that stimulates the senses but deadens the mind. I would have had a more fulfilling evening looking at pictures in a magazine.

"Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D." Pilot

And it’s out. The much-anticipated Joss Whedon project that gives us weekly doses of live-action Marvel adventure. And, I have to say, I’m underwhelmed. Pilots are not necessarily an indication of a good or bad season, but this one felt clichéd and uninspired. I came to it with high hopes – I’m a big fan of Whedon’s Firefly/Serenity and Much Ado About Nothing, and I can’t ever seem to get enough superhero action. The opening sequences were exciting. They combined a made-for-television superhero world like Alphas with the espionage panache of Covert Affairs. But as the episode progressed, the spy genre was dropped in favor of developing the superhero-y world. And that might have been a good choice, if Whedon had anything interesting or new to say about the genre. Instead, he siphons off The Avengers’ mythos in an attempt that feels like trying to channel that film’s success into a TV format. And it doesn’t work. The Avengers’ main appeal, to me at least, was the eye-candy. It had exciting fight sequences that spanned the front wall of a movie theater, not to mention gorgeous people in form-fitting costumes. But even nerd auteur Whedon can’t reproduce that very cinematic experience on TV. What I think he can do, based on his previous projects, is develop an interesting narrative arc. And when he finishes off-loading exposition and allows himself to create an artistic boundary between Agents and Avengers, I think that this could become a compelling new show.

Cymbeline

The Oregon Shakespeare Festival, for as long as I can remember, has had hits and misses just like any other theater. Sometimes they even happen in the same show, and sometimes they’re distinct enough that they can be attributed to specific jobs within the production. Cymbeline is just such a show. 

Image from the Eureka Times-Standard

OSF has always attracted the cream of the crop in terms of actors. This cast is mostly superb, with stand-out performances by Dawn-Lyen Gardner as (the play’s real lead) Imogen, Daniel José Molina as the impetuously fatalistic Posthumus, Kenajuan Bentley as the ever-suave creep Iachimo, and Donovan Mitchell as the adorable little brother Arviragus aka Cadwal. These four actors ground Shakespeare’s ridiculously involved soap-opera of a plot with honest and often playful interactions with the convoluted world in which they find themselves.

Cymbeline loses its grounding in its direction. Director Bill Rauch and costume designer David C. Woolard chose to add “a few mythical creatures to populate a landscape in which miraculous surprise lies beyond every bend in the story” (from Rauch’s program note). The goat-men and pig-men and people with pointy ears confused an already confusing story. That’s not to say it was a bad choice – in fact, I feel it was a good choice used sloppily. Kate McConnell writes in OSF’s Illuminations: A Guide to the 2013 Plays about Shakespeare’s “green worlds”:

“This ‘green world’ (a term coined by literary critic Northrop Frye), separated from the rules and organization of urbanity, gives the characters space to transform (sometimes literally), fall in and out of love, and discover who they truly are. In Cymbeline, the wilds of Wales perform this function….For the characters who travel to this place, transformation and revelation await.”

Rauch could have used his mythological creatures to emphasize Wales as a place of transformation and lent clarity to the story. Instead, this choice read as superfluous at best, and at worst, confusing.

Rauch’s casting Howie Seago as the titular king was also ill-advised. Seago is deaf and communicates via ASL. The way this plays on stage is that he delivers his lines in ASL and another actor interprets for those of us not schooled enough to understand sign-language. The effect is that Cymbeline’s tempestuousity is scattered across the stage, diluting its power and weakening the impact of the play’s main power-broker. Not that Seago is a bad actor – in fact, from what I can see, he is very accomplished in his craft. It’s just that, unfortunately, his lack of hearing is very much a handicap when it comes to acting Shakespeare.

Cymbeline is a play in which Shakespeare revels in his accomplishments as a storyteller by creating a labyrinthine plot that ranges from the improbable to the confusing. With such a play, it’s the artistic team’s job to clarify and ground the plot. OSF’s actors for the most part are successful in this. Unfortunately, they receive no help from their director, whose choices add further layers to an already excessively layered play.