King Lear

Madness. Power. Jealousy. Love. Betrayal. Greed. Violence. Shakespeare's King Lear delivers the best and worst of human nature in a little less than three hours. The Guthrie's current production showcases the quick and dangerous tumble in store for those that rely on the gossip of the greedy, and how tragic a fall awaits those who mistake flattery for love. 

Lear is a shared role between  Stephen Yoakam and Nathaniel Fuller, with the skilled Guthrie veterans tackling the role on alternate performances.  I had the pleasure of attending the show when Yoakam manned the king's descent into madness and he delivered an expert turn of what has always seemed to me to be one of Shakespeare's trickier roles. It's difficult to make that tenuous line of perpetrator/victim credible.  Lear roams the stage in the early scenes as a villain, proud and powerful. Yoakam handles his descent into infirmity and heartbreak with care, allowing the audience the opportunity to recognize the ease with which we all may walk that line under the right circumstances.

Orchestrating that fall are the jealousies of Goneril and Regan, Lear's two eldest daughters played deftly by Kate Nowlin and Sun Mee Chomet.  Wielding their own weapons, sensual and literal, each fights for power with a viciousness and intellect matching the greediest of men onstage. These are not sympathetic characters, but there's a great truth there.  The potential for power is equal for men and women in Lear; the pursuit differs, but the calculation and passion behind that pursuit is well-matched. Nowlin especially paces the stage vibrating with barely controlled rage, and her scheming pulses with a sensual heat. These women will use every tool in their arsenal to claim the power they seek.

Surrounding this truly dysfunctional family is a tribe of genuine supporters and calculating manipulators. Jason Rojas and Thomas Brazzle play their roles of Edgar and Edmund, respectively, as perfect foils. Brazzle oozes bitterness and his snark provides some of the quickest laughs of the show. We all recognize that bitterness and Brazzle brings it home with ease. His conniving plots are tragically matched in naive earnestness by Rojas's Edgar, who descends (literally) into madness before emerging as his father's and Lear's attempted savior. Lear is a tragedy that works because it highlights the goodness surrounding the evil. We're always saddest to see the potential for rescue even as we witness our protagonist fail to recognize the need of that rescue.

For all my love for this production of Lear, I would also like to comment that the poster/artwork reminds me of Beeker from the Muppets.  So I'll end this post with that levity:


 Catch King Lear on the Wurtele Thrust through April 2nd. Get your tickets here.

Promise Land

Transatlantic Love Affair is a theater company with physicality at its core. The ensemble creates not only the connection between characters, but the set itself, with hinged elbows, squeaky-wheel voices, and expertly choreographed shapes. In Promise Land, those shapes lend themselves to an impoverished homeland, an ocean liner (complete with steerage and first class), a boardinghouse, and a factory full of flame and danger.

Without a scrap of set, the ensemble builds the world that brought millions to America's shores. And given today's political climate, that story feels all the more visceral. The hope in young voices is almost a burden to hear, knowing the risks and wounds that surely lay ahead. And as we watch the dangers unfurl and the promise of America dim with the slap of reality, it's easy to wonder how closely the story onstage mirrors the stories playing out among those who make their way to the America of possibility.

Promise carries the story, all quick 75 minutes of it, and while we witness optimism's steady unraveling, we're not left in that pit. There's survival built into this promise, and a strength that seems otherworldly. Our hero and heroine emerge from the ashes with hope and possibility still firmly in their sights and that's a message we can all use these days.

Promise Land closes its run at the Guthrie on Feb 12th.  Tickets are no longer available for online purchase due to the popularity of the show but give the box office a call to check for last minute seats!

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

I will admit to being skeptical about this play. I loved the book and it was difficult for me to imagine a play doing the unique cadence of the book justice.  I'm happy to report I may actually like the play better than the book, a curious thing indeed!

Crafting a story around a central character who engages with the world from somewhere on the autism spectrum is challenging.  It's a delicate balance between exploiting stereotypes and investing in an often misunderstood perspective. Christopher, played beautifully by Adam Langdon on the night I attended (played by Benjamin Wheelwright for alternate showtimes), is immediately recognizable as That Kid from anyone's childhood: brilliant, impossible, socially struggling. Langdon perfectly captures the physicality of Christopher's world, aided throughout by expert lighting and sound that drive home the intensity of even the smallest action when one lives life as hyper alert, hyper aware, hyper sensitive.

The play begins with Christopher's discovery of the murdered dog of a neighbor, inspiring an obsessive desire to solve the heinous crime. What begins as one specific mystery leads quickly to bigger, darker mysteries surrounding Christopher's home life and each unraveling sends Christopher spinning.  While Christopher is certainly the driver of the story, he is anchored onstage by expert turns from Maria Elena Ramirez, playing Siobhan, a loving, dedicated teacher, and Gene Gillette, playing Christopher's father, Ed. The people who love Christopher circle him, sometimes from a safe distance, and attempt to help him make sense of an often nonsensical environment.

There is no perfect resolution to this story. For that reason, it seems to beat with a real, bloody heartbeat. It's noisy, funny, heartbreaking, overwhelming, bright, and in the end, beautiful. In other words, well worth a trip to the Orpheum.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is playing now through December 4th.  You can purchase tickets online at the Hennepin Theatre Trust and don't forget the rush seats available for students and teachers!

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

The Shining

I am not a scary movie person. I don't enjoy being scared, and as a single (grown up) lady I do not like checking my closet for murderers before bed.

That said, sometimes I can muster courage for the sake of a world premier opera. Such was the case for The Shining, which I was privileged to experience on their Social Media Preview night. 

Before I started attending Minnesota Opera productions I had a very specific impression of opera. It was exaggerated, surface-driven spectacle, leaving little room for the acting craft. But many productions by Minnesota Opera have forced me to reevaluate that impression and The Shining is a shining (ha!) example of that education in the acting artistry opera provides.

I don't think I'm giving much away when I say this is a story about madness. A descent into violent madness, on the one hand, and also a shimmering picture of a more benevolent quirk of the psyche that brings us, "the shining." And because both brands of madness can produce goosebumps, the story lends itself to truly creepy imagery.

The production embraces the power of Jack's hallucinations and brings them fully to life, gifting the audience with multiple skin-crawly moments. The chorus of ghosts tends to be jovial, even providing some costume-inspired laughs, and the torment they bestow on Jack, Wendy, and Doc strengthens quickly.

Jack's final blow and the resulting denouement tie a bow on the creepiness in under 2.5 hours, quick by operatic standards. 

Sadly (but happily for this production), The Shining has no remaining seats. You may still be able to purchase standing only tickets and given the shorter duration of this show, I'd say it's worth breaking out your comfiest shoes. 

If/Then

Some of the touring musicals that have passed through Minneapolis of late have been of the lets-make-this-movie-into-a-musical variety. I enjoy some of those shows, but they also kinda irk me as they seem like a bit of a cop out. New is good. Fresh is good. So I've been excited for If/Then at the Orpheum for a long time.

The plot is inspired by the "What If"s we all hear echoing in our brains from time to time. How would life be different had I chosen what was behind door number one instead of door number two?  Elizabeth, played by a stunning Jackie Burns, takes us down each path, and we meet one of her future selves, Liz or Beth, with each choice.  It's a fun, inspiring exploration on what it means to dive into a dream or a new relationship or an ancient love.

I love the premise.  I didn't always love the execution.  There's extraordinary talent onstage.  It was worth an evening just to see Anthony Rapp, as Elizabeth's old boyfriend, Lucas, perform. I just felt the highlights of the storyline, the excitement in the twists and turns of fate, faded through the second act.  If the show had ended at intermission, honestly, I would have thought it was brilliant. The second half just felt like all of the sudden the show felt it had something to prove, had to take a gut-wrenching turn in order to drive its point home. I don't want to give anything away, but I wish tragedy hadn't been necessary in order to explore the heartache of The Path We Choose.

That said, Jackie Burns and Anthony Rapp make this show worth seeing.  And if you happen to be at a crossroads of your own, bring some kleenex. The talent alone is inspiring and there were moments of pure, beautiful insight that held me rapt. What if, indeed.

If/Then plays through March 13 at the Orpheum Theatre.

Dear World

I first became aware of  Ten Thousand Things theater by reading an article in The New York Times back in November and kicked myself for never having seen a show. I was immediately inspired by their purpose, bringing the power of art to nontraditional and frequently under-served audiences. Performing in prisons, reservations, homeless shelters, and rural communities, the shows are staged in a way that blur the line between actor and audience, making that pesky fourth wall a thing of the past. 

When they're not performing at these nontraditional venues, the troupe is hosted at Open Book and Bedlam Lowertown.  Opening night of Dear World was at Open Book and I loved having the opportunity to see that new-to-me space as well as see a show.   

Performances are atypical for traditional theater goers as there's no dimming of the lights, no clear demarcation between stage and audience.  Performers are on the floor, at the same level as the audience, and chairs make a square around the performance. Actors frequently make eye contact with audience members, even engage with them at points. It was interesting to me to see how other people reacted at certain moments, to see how they cocked their head to one side or laughed or grimaced. It made the experience feel more communal, less a "show" and more a shared experience. 

Dear World tells the story of a band of artistic sorts in Paris confronting a band of evil Presidents ("they are all named President") who want to destroy their little cafe by digging for oil.  It's a hyperbolic story of the small and good vs. the big and evil and despite the fact that I'm an energy attorney ("energy" includes petroleum products), I loved it.  Any "evil" would have served the same purpose, somebody has to be Goliath. 

The actors were fantastic, with beautiful voices supported by live instrument accompaniment, the show was a quick 100 minutes with intermission. Sometimes funny, sometimes sweet, each actor brought a unique voice and authority to their role. I was especially impressed by Sheena Janson's dear Nina, young and in love, and Kris Nelson's Sewer Man, fresh off his role as Bob Cratchit at the Guthrie's Christmas Carol, Nelson brings gravitas to a seemingly comical character, depth around the edges of a lighthearted song. 

Dear World shows through February 7th and I highly recommend it not only for its own sake, but for the sake of supporting Ten Thousand Things' important role as a deliverer of art to forgotten pockets of our community. 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

A Gentleman's Guide to Love & Murder

The State Theatre is my favorite venue on the downtown strip of Hennepin, all fancy curtains and ornate woodwork. And it is the perfect setting for the fancy, albeit bloody, shenanigans of Monty D. Navarro in A Gentleman's Guide to Love & Murder. I'd heard a bit of the music from this musical as I can never refrain from exploring the Tony-winning stuff, but I'd never seen the show.  I brought my kid sister and we thoroughly enjoyed this quick, witty, murderous comedy.

The cast is fantastic. Led by our hero (can we call him that if he likes to kill people?), Kevin Massey as Monty Navarro, and joined by a stunning John Rapson, who plays eight characters, sometimes in miraculous succession, the voices rounding out this show deliver hilarious asides with the same punch as a soaring solo. The ladies don't slouch either, as Kristen Beth Williams and Adrienne Eller, as Sibella and Phoebe respectively, inspire just as many laughs and rounds of applause as the leading men. I was struck by how quickly the 2 hours and 20 minutes (including intermission) sped by, never a dull pause. 

Murder is in the title, and it's central to the plot, but this isn't a remotely scary show so don't worry about bringing kiddos or fraidy cats. The house was packed last night for the opening, so I wouldn't waste time in grabbing tickets.  Showing at the State Theatre through January 10th, don't forget to check out the discounts for teachers, students, and military. 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Equus

From the first chant to the final blackout, every beat of Equus pulses with a raw, prickling intensity. Expertly cast, and performed at a clip that leaves you wondering where the 3 hours went, this powerful take on pain, religion, and sanity demands attention. 

For those that don't know the story, Equus centers around a heartbreaking crime, the blinding of six horses, by the local stable hire. Brought to see Dr. Dysart  by the local authority in hopes that the good doctor can help him, the troubled teenager, Alan Strang, powerfully played by Kevin Fanshaw, sulks, stares, and sings his way through the initial meetings. Over time, as trust between patient and doctor grows, we learn more and more about Alan's past and his home life, marching us closer to the answer as to why a boy who so revered horses would attack them with such malice. 

In parallel to Alan's revelations, we learn of Dr. Dysart's increasing malaise towards his role. Burdened by the thought that in "curing" Alan he will essentially rob him of his purest joys, Dysart struggles to reconcile the job he's meant to do and the passion he begrudgingly envies in Alan. As the boy's story of lust and worship builds to a crescendo, Dysart's fascination with his beloved Greek antiquities begins to pale and crack in comparison. Dysart is played with astonishing skill by Charles Numrich, who deftly embodies a man empowered with both the ability to remove his patient's greatest source of pain and the knowledge that gifting Alan with "normalcy" will leave his life lacking. Frequently referring to the sacredness of Alan's pain, the sacredness of each person's pain, we begin to question whether the doctor's years of treating the most damaged of children has sparked in him a near worship of the damage. 

A bare stage is the perfect setting for exploring Alan's mother's near-lustful religiosity and his father's atheism, the foundation of Alan's trauma. Pale, tempered wood, not dissimilar from what you would find in a stable, houses every scene. Just as Alan's world is consumed by the horses, the audience experiences his fragility and passion in the context of a barn. Made famous for its nudity, this production reaches its climax when Alan and his almost-lover, Jill, strip in the stable, and Alan's reverence for his horse god causes a mental and emotional break that culminates in his crime. The choreography of that crime and the use of light to focus on that violence are expertly done, reinforcing at the play's near end that this is not a simple, impassioned moment of weakness, but a visceral, soul-tearing act of violence that shatters a boy and his already fragile family. 

This is a brilliantly done piece of work, and a thrilling introduction for me to the Theatre Coup d'Etat company. Make the time to experience this play and support this group of artists.  Playing November 6-23, Friday-Monday at 7:30. The small theater was packed for our viewing, so reserve your tickets early. 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

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.

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.

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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.

Pippin

My impression of Pippin before last night was largely formed by having viewed several high school variations.  High school theater teachers can't get enough of Bob Fosse, and that's perfectly okay. While I knew the musical had been revived to wide acclaim, I hadn't done much research on the reborn version, so I was surprised (stunned?) by the athletic, exuberant show currently enjoying a short run at the Orpheum. 

The choreography is still Bob Fosse-inspired, hallelujah, and even the aerial acrobatics have that languid-but-somehow-sharp pop of movement with each beat. The audience oohed and aahed at multiple feats of athleticism throughout the night and I will admit that I may have lifted more weights at the gym today as a result of seeing that many handstands and back flips.

A powerful Sasha Allen (of The Voice fame) takes the stage first as the Leading Player and her remarkable vocals carry the audience from scene to scene. I never watched The Voice, but holy crap can Sasha sing. She adds a certain Beyonce swagger to the role, not in imitation of that other singer, the Leading Player is solidly Allen's own, but that's the best comparison I can think of for a similar impression of both skill and confidence. She's Pippin's greatest champion and, in the end, a temptress, and Allen nails every aspect of that balancing act.

Pippin himself, played by Sam Lips, who played the title role on Broadway, is equal parts handsome, troubled, and awkward, often playing up his confusion and maladroit approach to every obstacle to the audience's delight. There were times I wished for a deeper, more powerful sound from him.  But overall he captured Pippin's plight with ease.

An absolutely stunning supporting cast make Pippin and the Leading Player's storytelling all the more fun to watch. Not only does the choreography move the audience along at a pace that feels far faster than it is, the actors carry that pace with enthusiasm. To almost standing-ovation-in-the-middle-of-the-show applause, Priscilla Lopez wows with a sassy, funny, touching, and ridiculously athletic performance of "No Time at All."  Similarly impressive is John Rubinstein, as Charles, who originated the Pippin role in 1972. Rubinstein is quick on his feet and quicker with his tongue, inspiring some of the biggest laughs of the night.

Rounding out the cast are stellar performances by Kristine Reese as Catherine and Sabrina Harper as Fastrada, each with soaring vocals and perfectly honed comedic and dramatic timing. Both get their share of laughs and Reese pulls at the heartstrings well as the love interest that throws Pippin's grand plans into turmoil.

A fantastic company of singers and circus professionals rounds out the stage and every tumble, leap, and hula hoop is perfectly placed. A joy to watch, Pippin is powerfully sung and beautifully choreographed, with a coming-of-age story that doesn't seem to age.

Playing through Sunday, Feb 22nd, you can buy your tickets at the Hennepin Theatre Trust website here.  Don't forget to take advantage of the ticket discounts for teachers, students, and military.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

I Love Lucy

I did not grow up watching the famous redheaded comedienne. She was even before my parents' prime TV-watching time given the original series aired in the 50s. I caught reruns on Nick at Night but I don't know that I every watched a full episode, the comedy was always a bit by-gone for me, of a different era.

All that being said, the Lucy and Dezi shtick is as familiar to me as a bologna sandwich.  Maybe all Americans born after it aired are genetically altered, implanted with some Lucy-appreciating gene that immediately recognizes and embraces the slapstick mischief.  The era may be well passed, but there's still a bit of magic and hilarity in Ricky's "you've got some 'splainin' to do!"

"I Love Lucy" Live on Stage doesn't just recreate a couple beloved episodes (episodes I never saw but the audience made it clear these were fondly remembered), it attempts to recreate the novelty of being a live studio audience for the comedy.  The two Lucy episodes are interspersed with of-the-moment re-enacted commercials (Brylcream, anyone?) complete with jingles some members of the audience clearly recognized. While these asides were enjoyable, they were clearly most appreciated by those who remember watching the show in its heyday. There were laughs of recognition throughout the show.

The strongest member of the ensemble was a spot-on Ricky Ricardo.  From his first greeting of the audience, to his hip-swiveling crooning, he was a fun, energetic, honey-voiced interpretation of Lucy's other half.  Lucy herself was also strong, nailing many of Lucy's trademark pouts and grimaces, as well as her penchant for physical comedy and off-key singing. As must be the case in a show based on the episodes, the duo had sweet chemistry, even in the midst of a somewhat limited script. 

The strength of the show is in the retelling of the episodes, momentum gets a bit muddled in the snippets between the shows and in a frequent song-and-dance aside by a talented, but somewhat misplaced, chorus.  If you're looking for a quick show (only 90 minutes, no intermission) that will have you back at home before 10, this could be the one for you.  I'd recommend it even more fervently for anyone who dearly loved the show in its heyday. Bring your mom or grandma, and buy her an I Love Lucy coffee mug for the road (the swag is cute). 

I Love Lucy is playing at the State Theater through January 25th. Don't forget to take advantage of Hennepin Theater Trust's rush tickets available for students, military, and teachers! 

La Fanciulla del West

As I've said in a handful of previous opera-related posts, opera is not an art form with which I am well-versed. I can't pick out the famous arias and place them in the appropriate masterpiece. While it's a medium I respect, it's a medium I encounter somewhat ignorantly, which makes it a tricky subject to review for blog purposes.

I can't say much about Fanciulla that would demonstrate that I know what I'm talking about, but I can say that the show is fun! Prior to this experience, I had no idea Puccini wrote an opera set in the American West. What a surprise!  I think of most operas as velvet-draped, Grecian, or Shakespearean-derived affairs, far removed from any American sensibility.  But this is a gun-slinging (so much gun-slinging!) love story with all the swagger of a traditional western. There are heavy boots, saloons, shiny pistols, barrels of gold and whiskey, bandits, and star-crossed lovers meeting on the road to Monterey.  If a John Wayne baritone had moseyed onstage, I wouldn't have been surprised.

The familiar (to Americans such as myself who don't consider themselves opera know-it-alls) setting eases an opera newbie into the experience, and for that reason I think this would be a solid choice for a first opera.  While you won't pick out any famous arias, if you listen closely you will hear the piece that inspired a lawsuit between Puccini's estate and Andrew Lloyd Webber. That alone is reason enough for the Broadway nerd to dive into this performance.

The picture above was taken during Fanciulla's social media preview night and does not do the set justice. It's a see-for-yourself set!

Minnesota Opera's La Fanciulla del West  plays from Sept. 20th- Sept. 28th at the Ordway in St. Paul.

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Brave New Workshop Pedal Pub Named Desire

One of my biggest problems with this blog is that I feel like my list of "Ohhh, I want to do/eat/try/explore that!" grows daily and there are really only so many non-work hours in the day. The Cities are an embarassment of riches, and my cup forever overfloweth. Brave New Workshop has been on the aforementioned list for years.  I've even experienced their corporate trainings on two occasions (awesome idea for anyone looking for a unique presentation on teamwork and communication) and still never managed to see one of their shows.

But finally, Pedal Pub Named Desire changed that. I attended the show with Laura, a blogger who is infinitely more active than I am. Laura recently interviewed one of the actors, Andy Hilbrands, on her One Girl, Two Cities internet radio show and you should definitely download the show and check out Laura's blog.

Brave New Workshop's shows are largely seasonal, each running for a couple of months.  They're a hilarious hodgepodge of sketches continually energized by the crapshoot that is a live audience. Our evening had a pretty raucous bachelorette party in the audience and the cast members rather hilariously pegged them to shut up on several occasions.  But even a gaggle of 21 year old drunk sorority girls couldn't weaken the face-splitting jokes that ran throughout.  My mouth ached from 2 hours strait of grins and guffaws. No joke, there was "guffawing," not just laughing.

The sketches in Pedal Pub are tied together with a general theme of love, flirtation, relationships, sex, and all the awkward crap that all those topics generally inspire. Whether it's a song connecting the infamous "Minnesota Goodbye" with couples' inability to breakup or a disturbingly passionate Russian (male) gynecologist teaching sex ed to a bunch of high schoolers, the sketches are hilarious, perfectly timed, and played with enthusiasm by a cast that's clearly having a blast.

There are some folks in my life who say they're "not really into" improv and thus they haven't checked out these BNW shows. First off, I think that's an incorrect opinion. :)  But secondly, even if improv makes you a bit nervous, you should settle in for one of these well-scripted shows.  These are rehearsed, professional exercises in comic timing.  These shows aren't the get-an-idea-from-the-audience games some people may think of when they hear the word "Improv" (those games happen after the show is over, stick around!), these are sketches similar in vein to the vignettes you see on Saturday Night Live, but these are actually funny.

A lot of that humor is derived from the bawdry and offensive, so take that to heart.  Drinks are served at the theater and the show is heavy on inappropriate topics (don't we always laugh hardest at the I-can't-believe-he-said-that phrases?), so keep that in mind before you bring your mom.

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Once

For anyone who has seen the movie (add it to your Netflix queue immediately if you haven't), there's a certain hesitance in thinking of Once as a musical.  The intimacy of a close-up seems like it would be lost in the expanse of live theater.  How do you translate all those heart-sparking moments, often communicated with a glance from a piano, to the back of the house? For one, you cast beautiful vocal talents and genuine musicians and you somehow (miraculously?) transform a stage into an intimate space where the audience feels equal parts privileged and guilty to eavesdrop on a love story.

The movie, Once, introduced me, and the rest of the planet, to Glen Hansard, already a well-loved Irish songwriter by people more in the know than myself, and Marketa Irglova, who together penned the music and lyrics for the musical. I've since seen Hansard in concert as well as obsessed over The Swell Season's haunting/rocking (how often do those go together?) melodies. So my love for the story, the music, and the personalities aligned with this Tony Award-winning musical set me up for some pretty astronomical expectations and I'm thrilled to note that I was not disappointed. This short run at the Orpheum is a must-see for anyone in need of a love story, a sweet song, or proof that the dreams that matter will be bolstered by those that love you.  So really, it's a must-see for everyone.

Following an improbable meeting of a down-trodden Dublin busker and a music-loving (and gifted) immigrant, the audience watches as our heroine nudges our hero back into songwriting. With each song the would-be lovers step a bit closer to a shared dream and the success of that dream is deeply woven into the strength of their connection. Are they soul mates? Mutual saviors at a specific point in time? How would the answers to either question impact a lifelong dream?

These actors aren't alone in their travels.  Far from it, they're surrounded by a community of musicians of such grit and talent, every duet is underscored by a beautiful chorus of warmth. Each actor plays their own instrument and there's no question that the heft of this story lies as much in the connection between our lovers and in the character of a Hometown (in this case, Dublin), as personified by a pack of Czech immigrants and native Irishmen and women who answer life's trials with music.

Once is only in town through April 6th so don't delay on this one! And if you're a student/educator, don't forget to take advantage of rush seats, available at every performance.

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Tristan & Yseult

As the audience files in, the "lovespotters" pounce. Roaming up and down the aisles as musicians on stage set a playful (yet somewhat sad) mood with renditions of popular songs of unrequited love, these chorus members, these "unloved," ask questions of those seated. "How long have you been married? Still smiling, so not too long." Dressed in drab jackets and hoods, they could be any wanderer on any street. These unloved permeate the classic tale of Tristan & Yseult, a Kneehigh production masterfully adapted by Emma Rice. 

Our narrator-of-sorts, Whitehands, introduces her band of unloved comrades and introduces us to the players in our tale, and with the aid of music and movement this ancient tale highlights every pained perspective of romantic love. Why do we love? Who do we love? Why are we unloved? Why are we loved? Why do we betray? Can we love two people at once? Does love die?

Love and romance can be funny and clumsy, of course, and there are elements of hilarity throughout.  There are giggles and guffaws to be had in between melancholy laments and the cast balances the joy and heartache of love perfectly, never losing the authenticity of either side of the pendulum swing. The entire production vibrates with energy, bolstered by grin-inducing elements of audience participation. This is a show that never slows down, never sinks.  Even the soberest moments have a strong pulse of passion, and some of the most powerful of those moments are provided by the band of unloved (whose ranks increase throughout the play, but I won't give any of that away), an astute comment on how brutal life is when staring at Love from the outside.

Alternating elevations on stage was a powerful and effective strategy for not only showing the change of time and location, but for creating a defined space for the lovers and the unloved.  The unloved are constantly outside the central circle most often occupied by our hero and heroine, only breaking into the space at moments of deception, heartache, and desperation.  Even when they're able to assert themselves within the bounds of that elite "club" (as noted by Whitehands, de facto queen of that band), they're quickly dismissed. "Do you love me?" is a question answered in the negative.  That stark line between those experiencing love and those forced to spectate on that experience is powerfully and beautifully drawn.

It has been awhile since I've seen a show that I immediately wanted to see again. And thankfully, with shows through March 23rd, there's time to indulge repeatedly. It's time to head to the Guthrie again, people.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite