Minnesota Opera: Ariadne auf Naxos

Opera is frequently an exercise in hyperbole. The grand sweep from one emotion to another, the tragedy of love lost, the joy of love reborn, it can all become a bit exhausting and disjointed from reality. The best operas that I've seen have done one of two things, they've used that melodrama to heighten the purest of our emotions, or they've flipped the melodrama on itself, highlighting the common understanding that while not all emotions explode with operatic passion, we can all relate to the very human tendency to exaggerate, well, everything.  Ariadne does the latter. The opera itself, the play within a play, teases the audience with the ridiculousness of its self-importance, allowing for an overzealous composer and a haughty (with a voice to say, "and I deserve to be haughty") diva to provide numerous laughs at the expense of The Opera. 

I didn't expect to giggle as much as I did, which is to say, I don't think I expected to giggle at all at an opera. But the comedy of self-aggrandizing  and forced humility never gets old, we all love to see a diva teased. Running a fast-paced 2 hours and 40 minutes (including one intermission), Ariadne manages to surprise us not only with commedia dell arte silliness and routine snark directed at opera's superiority complex, but with a warmth that makes the teasing feel less cruel, and more the type of ribbing a sibling gives another. 

Commedia: Hey Opera, get over yourself. Life isn't THAT serious. Lighten up!

Opera: Hmph. 

Commedia: Cry a little, fine. But let's crack a smile occasionally.

Opera: Hmph. (Opera cracks a very tiny smile.)

Commedia: (winky face)

The vocal talent, as always, is astonishing.  Ariadne and her comedic foil, Zerbinetta, are equals in inhabiting a character with the voice it needs.  Ariadne's deep, creamy, powerhouse of tone expertly underscores the depth of Ariadne's importance onstage and off. She's a star, her voice the perfect showcase for why opera demands applause, and more applause, and more applause, please. Where Ariadne exudes depth and gravitas, Zerbinetta lightens the mood with wit and a shimmering soprano that seems capable of brightening the darkest rafters. Deepening the connection between these two characters, Zerbinetta is the one who highlights how much her comedic persona shares with the tragic Ariadne.  Just as Ariadne is trapped and heartbroken on her deserted island, so Zerbinetta finds herself frequently isolated and confused in a throng of suitors. The physical facts matter little, the heartache in each voice can sound strikingly similar. And therein lies the sisterhood of two warring forms of art.  

Ariadne auf Naxos is sung in German with English subtitles and, due to its easily understood plot, fast pace, and comedic lift, would be an excellent first opera for anyone on the fence as to whether the art form strikes their fancy. It's a beautiful, emotional, frequently funny less-than-3-hours of entertainment, and it would be a shame to miss out on these artistic fireworks (winky face).

Ariadne is showing at the Ordway 1st, 3rd, and 4th.  Get your tickets at www.mnopera.org. And follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite. 

Throwback BNW: Junk From Our Trunk

Having seen several of Brave New Workshop's shows over the last year or so, I was excited to experience some throwback hilarity. There were definitely several scenes I'd never seen before, and the ones I'd seen before were true gems. 

While I laughed often and still believe BNW is one of the best bets for local entertainment, I was hoping for more "throwback" in the Throwback show, more snippets I hadn't seen before. That said, a couple scenes I could watch every night and still crack up (Edina Innuendo, looking at you). If you haven't been to BNW before or it has been awhile (and your sensitivity to offense is low), you'll love this show. 

Stage Kiss

The play within a play is a classic trope. There's no quicker way to shine a spotlight on both an audience's expectations and the complication of Actors as Actual People. Sarah Ruhl's Stage Kiss, playing through August at the Guthrie, takes that theatrical construct and expertly uses it to highlight the worlds we build inside our heads, the relationships we paint in rose-colored tints.

He and She are once-lovers who stumble upon one another years later as costars in a decidedly awful play. The clumsy dialogue allows for 200+ stage kisses, each one opening teenage wounds and reawakening teenage desires. They find themselves falling in love again, "for a time," ignoring the concerns that drove them apart in favor of the thrill of rekindled romance.  The complication of a current husband, a current Nice Iowa Girlfriend, and the realization that they are still the same people that fell out of love years before, only slowly begin to unravel the daydream.

Peppered with laughter throughout, Ruhl showcases the self-consciousness of acting as much as the intense feelings tied to that first true love. From her first entry onstage, Stacia Rice's She bumbles and questions and worries over every word that slips from her mouth, every gesture, every direction. Losing that self-conscious patter only in her most relaxed moments with her lover and, eventually, her husband, She shines a light on that desperate search for a companion who lets you sink into yourself. As her love affair with He unravels and she finds herself craving the comfort of home and Husband, the lovers find themselves within another too-bad-to-be-real play. The stage once again provides the perfect environment for over-analysis and over-exposure of what was, really, a mistake.

Equal parts hilarious and touching, Ruhl's characters are expertly performed by a small but superb cast. Ruhl's hiccups of fantasy, plays on lighting and emotion, are brought to life by lovely staging and lighting, not an easy task considering the fluidity of reality and theatricality throughout the show.  A quick-paced show that feels shorter than its two hours (plus intermission), this is well worth braving the construction downtown.

Stage Kiss plays on the McGuire Proscenium at the Guthrie through August 30th. Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite.

Revival

As most are aware, I'm not a native Minnesotan. While I lost the majority of my accent years ago (give or take a few Southernisms that won't die), my soft spot for Southern cooking has only deepened this far North of my birth state of Arkansas. Both sides of my family are Southern-based, Arkansas and Texas firmly represented on my Mother's side, and Tennessee and the Carolinas gracing my Dad's.

We weren't a fried chicken family. I didn't grow up with Sunday suppers of the bird. But I've been eating pimento cheese since childhood and I've eaten hoppin' john nearly every New Years Day of my life for good luck. A jar of chow chow is bought as soon as we land in Tennessee, and I even made a bastardized version of it this winter when my Uncle Buck visited and requested the condiment (no, Uncle Buck, they do not have chow chow in Minnesota).

All this to be said, I've been waiting for the Revival opening with equal parts excitement and anxiety. My attachment to the sides is more acute than to the main attraction, Everybody loves fried chicken. And everybody has expectations when they eat fried chicken. But only a Southerner has expectations (a lifetime of dipping tortilla chips into Ruth's pimento cheese) when it comes to the sides.

The pimento cheese and meat plate is a sizable sharing portion for $13. We could have easily shared it with a table of 4, instead I was thrilled to bring home a serving or two, which I will not share with anyone. My night was made when I saw the small heap of chow chow beside the pickles. A sweet, vinegary condiment of shredded cabbage and celery seed (or maybe it was caraway seed in this version?), a bit of that bite perfectly pairs with the rich, creamy goodness of classic pimento cheese.  And the pimento cheese. Y'all, there's nothing fancified about this pile of glorious goop. I was worried that the Revival version would pale in comparison to my own recipe. But honestly, I believe I have to admit defeat on this one. I could have happily made a meal of the cheese and chow chow, and I'm sure at some point, I probably will. Pimento cheese is rich and needs a bit of tang, so the pickles and chow chow and a dash of pepper vinegar made for many perfect bites. The andouille addition was nice for snacking, but the pimento cheese is the star. The meat felt a bit superfluous, but maybe I have friends who love andouille and want to focus on that, leaving the pimento cheese to me. That could be the basis for a great friendship.

Revival offers three fried chicken varieties, classic Southern, Tennessee Hot, and gluten free, along with several traditional Southern dishes. The low country chicken bog with clams and sausage would have called to me on a wintery night, I'm sure. I always pick whatever is labeled as spicy, so the Tennessee Hot fried chicken was my choice. Offering a welcome kick to crunchy, perfectly moist  chicken, it'll be tough for me to ever order anything other than that gem. Along with the chicken, I ordered sides of collards and hoppin john.  Both of the sides were great, with a slight edge given to the collards because the combination of collards and the delicious Revival hot sauce was simply delicious. We split an order of perfect biscuits, all fluff and butter, with a tin of sorghum butter to further gild the lily. The sides run $4-$6 and the 2 piece chicken is only $7.50.  Split a 1/2 bird (five pieces) for only $15.  I'd be tempted to get a half bird, or even a full, next time, for the sake of leftovers.

The Revival space, housed in the former Corner Table home, is bright and unfussy. Despite recent Twitter stories of a line out the door, we arrived at 6 pm on Tuesday and were able to sit immediately. It was a packed, lively space, but not too noisy to still have a conversation. With that kind of crowd on a week night, I'm sure a table on a weekend evening requires a longer wait (no reservations, and they insist on a full party before seating guests). But if you're hoping to pop in and experience this delicious new addition, a weeknight would be an easy bet, especially if you're comfy eating at the bar.

As a frequent visitor to Corner Table, I had high hopes and expectations attached to Revival. I'm thrilled to know that every bite of this place is a gift to we Southern transplants. 

Carmen

Carmen was the first opera I went to, a beautiful, intimate production at Theatre de la Jeune Lune.  Like most people, especially the opera novices like myself, Carmen is accessible in part because so much of the music is recognizable. One forgets how deeply Bizet's melodies have woven their way into everyday life, each spicy, sensual vocal or orchestral dance bringing a smile of recognition.

That immediate recognition must make Carmen equal parts exhilarating and exasperating to direct and envision. The Minnesota Opera takes a classic and runs with it, embracing the heat and flash of the 1970s and delivering Carmen's sultry take on doomed love with the gusto it deserves. Sung in French with English subtitles, the three hour show moves at a robust pace. There were no yawning lulls, as even Micaela's heartache moves at a quick clip. Carmen's steady march toward destruction is made all the more dramatic by stunning visuals courtesy of top notch lighting and a beautiful play of shadows and light.

Performances are astounding. My only sadness was that Micaela was a bit dowdy. I prefer a brighter contrast to Carmen, not so much a housewife vs. a harlot, but an angel vs. a demon. But vocally these two women are a perfect foil, Micaela's soaring, pristine soprano offering a ladylike, almost regal, contrast to Carmen's mezzo-soprano sensuality and darkness. Don Jose is properly torn between this darkness and light, and the tenor perfectly imbues that struggle with the crazed passion it requires. Thankfully, he removes his sweater vest before closing in on his beloved, as I can't quite believe a murderer in a sweater vest.

Sweater vests are only the beginning of a costume parade that includes roller skates, fringed leather, and a pair of satin pants that makes Toreador as much a thrill to watch as to hear. This is a lush, sexy world and every inch of the stage seems to pulse with that sensual energy. Embrace a bit of tragic yearning and don't miss Carmen at Minnesota Opera, playing through May 10th.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Anne of Green Gables

There are few books as dear to me as Anne of Green Gables. As a redhead, the Lucy Maud Montgomery series was very much a rite of passage. That level of affection always makes me a bit cautious in experiencing an adaptation, as no staging can improve upon what lives in one's head.

Happily, the Anne currently inhabiting Theatre in the Round is a warm, welcome rendition of the classic. The Sylvia Ashby adaptation captures Anne's specific capacity for joy and moves her story along at a well-paced clip. Although the show runs a long-ish 2 and a half hours (with intermission), it still manages to feel light, Anne's precocious childhood errors ("it's harder to be good when you have red hair") carrying the audience from childhood to adulthood. The first act enjoys the majority of the laughs, but Anne's quips provide ample humor throughout the show.

Anne is played by Mabel Thomas, a sophomore at Edina High School, and Thomas embodies the timeless heroine very well. There's a cadence to her delivery that reminds me of Megan Follows's miniseries version, and that's a pretty noble comparison. Thomas is quick and bubbly as childhood Anne, and grows more serene and thoughtful as Anne the Adult. It's a credit to Thomas that the evolution of Anne feels natural, childhood melodrama lending itself sweetly to adult enthusiasm.

Jane Hammill's Marilla is a stern, but eventually soft-hearted, foil to Anne's "featherbrained" imagination.  And Hammill, Thomas, and Rod Kleiss, playing the soft-spoken Matthew, have a loving chemistry that honors the Montgomery classic. Rounding out the supporting cast are Dani Pazurek, as Anne's "bosom friend," Diana, and Holly Windle, as the busybody Rachel Lynde. Together they provide just enough support and drama to carry our heroine through those difficult hair-dying years and into adult success at Queens College. Gilbert Blythe, who all Anne-lovers know is destined to whisk "Carrots" off her feet, plays a small but sweet role throughout, and Sean Gilbertson does a fine job playing the playful and persistent suitor.

This is a loving, often humorous staging of a beloved story, and Anne-girls (and their Gilbert Blythes) of all ages will enjoy it.  The show runs through April 12th so make sure you reserve seats for an upcoming weekend.

Follow me on twitter @TheMinneapolite

The Drawer Boy

I get to Theatre in the Round infrequently, but that isn't for lack of interest in their book of shows. I was happy to have a free Sunday afternoon for a matinee showing of their current show, The Drawer Boy, despite knowing absolutely nothing about the production.

The Canadian play is one of the most frequently produced plays of the last decade, having garnered critical acclaim not only for its native production but for multiple translations abroad. It's easy to see the allure as the story is heartfelt, the characters interesting.

Set in Ontario in the early 70s, the relationship between farmers, Morgan and Angus, unfolds gently at the coaxing of their guest, Miles, a traveling actor working on a new play. Morgan's protective, gruff demeanor is balanced with easy teasing of the young actor, who seems a bit too naive when talked into silly farmhand chores like polishing gravel. And Angus's befuddled earnestness bounces from Morgan to Miles, carrying with it questions of how Angus came to be Angus, and why Morgan cares so much.

The real star of the play is that story, told by Morgan of his life with Angus, a dear, damaged friend. While the story itself is intriguing, at times the friendship between these men feels forced, even weak. Perhaps that's a natural weakness, borne of years of caretaking, and more a tale of exhaustion than failed feeling.  But sometimes the chemistry between the friends falters, and that slows the pace of a pretty quick-moving script.

Hiccups aside, the play is worth a peek for the story alone. Clocking in at under two hours, with intermission, it's a warm dose of friendship on a chilly evening. Only one weekend remains, so check out next weekend's final shows and don't forget the discounts available for seniors and students on Fridays and Sundays.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite or email me at TheMinneapolite@gmail.com.