Five Questions. Five Answers. And One Big Decision: Rock, Paper, Or Scissors?

Missed Connections – An Exploration into the Online Postings of Desperate Romantics

Company: Royanth Productions
Directed by: Ricky Dunlop

Drawing from the sometimes touching, oftentimes torrid (and almost always grammatically incorrect) postings on craigslist’s most notorious section, Missed Connections is a collection of the best and brightest.

Show Times:

• Wed 2/22 @ 7:30 pm
• Sat 2/25 @7:00 pm
• Mon 2/27 @ 6:00 pm
• Thu 3/1 @ 10:30 pm
• Sun 3/4 @ 1:00 pm

Answers by Ricky Dunlop

(Writer, Director, Performer)

Karen Tortora-Lee’s Question
That’s some title. How did you come up with it – and what does it mean?
Ricky: Missed Connections – An Exploration into the Online Postings of Desperate Romantics is directly inspired by the source of the material in our show. Check out Missed Connections on Craigslist.com if you don’t know what I’m talking about.

Diánna Martin’s Question
If you were going to invite five people, anyone from past and present, to see your FRIGID show – who would you invite and why?
Ricky: Let’s go with Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Kevin Spacey, Jackie Kennedy and JFK. Just think about all of the tension, scandals, rumors and star power in the room! Missed Connections is the perfect playground for that.

Antonio Minino’s Question
What is the biggest sacrifice you’ve ever made for your Art and was it worth it?
Ricky: This cast has all dropped more comfortable lives elsewhere to move to New York City and work survival jobs to stay alive. This cast has been developing this show for the last 9 months without making any money off of it. Is it worth it? Oh, it will be.

Geoffrey Paddy Johnson’s Question
Was there any unexpected discovery made during the development of this production and, if so, can you share it?
Ricky: I think we discovered that the Amazon Kindle is a cute little piece of technology and that some of the funniest people in the world are closet cases who workout at 24 hour gyms in the Greater Los Angeles area.

Michelle Augello-Page’s Question
What do you hope the audience receives from the experience of seeing this show?
Ricky: I hope they receive a big old belly ache from laughing their faces off and walk away with a greater appreciation for the world wide web.

Rock, Paper, Scissors Tournament of DEAAAAATH

THM Bonus Question – We’re serious this year!
In the THM virtual Rock, Paper, Scissors Tournament of DEAAAAATH which FRIGID Show do you take on? And what do you throw?
Ricky: We would take on The Stranger to Kindness because we LOVE strangers at Missed Connections. We would be throwing the scissors because we’re all about being sharp with comedy. And let’s be honest…who throws paper? I mean, like, a paperboy does but not for a Tournament of DEAAAAATH, right?
Scissors. Final answer. Yes. Scissors…

Wonderful!  Good choice!  Although Paper would have won you the match … because you were challenged by Love in the Time of Chlamydia (who threw a rock at everyone).   But there are more chances!  Let’s see if anyone else takes on the show with the longest title in the festival (ahem – you guys).  And if they do, hopefully they’ll throw paper.  Then … you WIN!

Thanks Missed Connections – An Exploration into the Online Postings of Desperate Romantics for participating in The Happiest Medium’s FRIGID New York Festival 2012 Q&A. And for playing our game! You’re officially SCISSORS in any and all challenges. You may win, you may not – who knows! This is how it works in the crazy world of the Rock, Paper, Scissors Tournament of DEAAAAATH!

For the rest of you don’t forget to check out Missed Connections – An Exploration into the Online Postings of Desperate Romantics!

~~~

Missed Connections: An Exploration into the Online Postings of Desperate Romantics
Company: Royanth Productions
Directed by: Ricky Dunlop

Feb 22, 7:30PM
Feb 25, 7:00PM
Feb 27, 6:00PM
Mar 01, 10:30PM
Mar 04, 1:00PM
$14.00

The Kraine Theater

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The 2012 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL will run February 22-March 4 at The Kraine Theater & The Red Room (85 East 4th Street between 2nd Ave and Bowery) and UNDER St. Marks (94 St. Marks Place between 1st Ave and Ave A). Tickets to all shows may be purchased online at www.FRIGIDnewyork.info or by calling Smarttix at 212-868-4444.

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Five Questions. Five Answers. And One Big Decision: Rock, Paper, Or Scissors?

Daughters of Lot (Marlena Kalm, photo by Rachel Kerry)

Daughters Of Lot

Company: Brain Melt Consortium
Directed by: Rachel Kerry

The evening’s entertainment is a sexy and silly retelling of an ancient story, until the performers do a trick that requires more than flexibility. Arousing and agitating in Biblical proportions, this is not your daddy’s burlesque club… or maybe it is.

Show Times:

• Thu 2/23 @ 7:30 pm
• Sat 2/25 @ 5:30 pm
• Tue 2/28 @9:00 pm
• Fri 3/2 @ 5:30 pm
• Sun 3/4 @ 4:00 pm

Answers by Alexis Roblan

(Playwright, Producer)

Karen Tortora-Lee’s Question
That’s some title. How did you come up with it – and what does it mean?
Alexis: Daughters of Lot takes place in a burlesque club where the performers conjur up a couple Biblical characters to play with — Lot’s daughters. So in one sense, the title’s pretty literal. It’s also a reference to the fact that Lot, from the story of Sodom & Gomorrah, has a name, but none of the women in the story (including his daughters) are ever given names.

Diánna Martin’s Question
If you were going to invite five people, anyone from past and present, to see your FRIGID show – who would you invite and why?
Alexis:
Lot — to ask him how he feels about the portrayal.
Jean Genet — because the structure for this show was originally inspired by his The Blacks.
Susan Faludi — because Backlash is quoted on the title page.
Leigh Silverman — because I have a huge director crush.
Elisabeth Hasselbeck — to watch her squirm.

Antonio Minino’s Question
What is the biggest sacrifice you’ve ever made for your Art and was it worth it?
Alexis: In January 2010 I moved to New York with 2 friends here, no job prospects, and not much money, having spent a total of 10 days in the city prior to my move. It was pretty nerve-wracking, and I spent quite a bit of time missing friends and my car for that first year, but I also built a great community here and started a theatre company, Brain Melt Consortium. And now we’re in the Frigid Festival! Success story! Totally worth it.

Geoffrey Paddy Johnson’s Question
Was there any unexpected discovery made during the development of this production and, if so, can you share it?
Alexis: This used to be a full-length play, that we cut down to an hour for Frigid. Having worked on the script for a few years, it was tough to figure out exactly which moments could be sliced and diced and leave the show as something coherent and powerful. But some of those painful cuts resulted in moments that really made the play breathe in new ways.

Michelle Augello-Page’s Question
What do you hope the audience receives from the experience of seeing this show?
Alexis: I hope people are entertained in the moment, but also disconcerted. I hope they leave with a lot of questions, and that it inspires them to think a bit more than usual about gender and how sex is used in our society.

Rock, Paper, Scissors Tournament of DEAAAAATH

THM Bonus Question – We’re serious this year!
In the THM virtual Rock, Paper, Scissors Tournament of DEAAAAATH which FRIGID Show do you take on? And what do you throw?

Alexis: I would take on Stripper Lesbians, because their title makes me feel competitive with them. I would throw scissors. For obvious reasons.

Okay then!  Well, the Stripper Lesbians part I get.  The scissors, not so much “obvious” to me, but I’m not always the sharpest scissors in the drawer.  So I say – good choice!  Here’s how you’re doing so far … you’ve been challenged by Love in the Time of Chlamydia who threw ROCK (at everyone) … so that’s a loss.   But that’s just round one … there’s more to come!

Thanks Daughters of Lot for participating in The Happiest Medium’s FRIGID New York Festival 2012 Q&A. And for playing our game! You’re officially SCISSORS in any and all challenges. You may win, you may not – who knows! This is how it works in the crazy world of the Rock, Paper, Scissors Tournament of DEAAAAATH!

For the rest of you don’t forget to check out Daughters of Lot!

~~~

Daughters of  Lot

~~~

The 2012 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL will run February 22-March 4 at The Kraine Theater & The Red Room (85 East 4th Street between 2nd Ave and Bowery) and UNDER St. Marks (94 St. Marks Place between 1st Ave and Ave A). Tickets to all shows may be purchased online at www.FRIGIDnewyork.info or by calling Smarttix at 212-868-4444.

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Stabat Mater Fabulosa

The Morningside Opera company offered up a quite singular interpretation of Pergolesi‘s Stabat Mater in their Fabulosa rendition on January 26th at Dixon Place, which proved, at once, a scholarly as well as a quite literal undressing of the original. Composed in 1736 – the year of Pergolesi’s death at the august age of 26 – the piece has been an iconic work in the canon of western sacred music ever since and has enjoyed an unbroken record of performance for nearly three hundred years. This surely says something about a work, to have endured so vigorously the vagaries of artistic, musical, and religious change, never mind or dare one say, taste. Which in many ways explains its attraction for Morningside Opera, who see their role as boundary-pushers wishing to invigorate dialogue between traditional and new modes of the form. Their stripped down presentation was both scholastically dense as well as visually provocative.

Stabat Mater Fabulosa at Dixon Place

As the slowly drawn out, deliciously mournful harmonies swelled to fill the auditorium, we were presented with two female singers attired in silky camisoles and nickers more evocative of the flapper era than anything from the 18th century. This anachronistic note is key, as the physical performance in large measure is characterized by a panotomimed broadness of expression redolent of the 1920s cabaret era, a time that was interested in the exposure, as much as in the celebration of artifice. From there, as the sequence of songs unfolded, we were subjected to a sort of reverse strip tease as the women, an alto and a soprano, episodically dressed themselves in layer after layer of high baroque costume, enacting scenes in varying degrees ridiculous, mocking, sentimental, and titillating. These little mimes were intentionally played to undermine the exquisite feeling in the vocalizations and critique the psychological realism on display.  While this is going on photographic projections were thrown up on a wall behind, exhibiting scenes of feminine intimacy and maternal ideality, a foil to the silly capering and posturing in the foreground. As the singers graduated into foundation garments, dresses, and eventually wigs, the greater question of the construct of feminine identity surfaced and, with a grand historical sweep, addressed details of formal 18th century attire and contemporary notions of the ”undressed” feminine, maternal self. It could not be ignored that the photographs appeared in the form of “projections”, and with some subtle lighting play, remained gauzily vague, fading in and out of prominence.

The voices meantime, ever beautifully harmonized, persisted throughout, hardly impacted by the movements and gestures of the singers as, gamefully, and with dumb show agony, they were trussed into punitive corsets, chased each other about the grand piano, swooned in affected attitudes of grieving faints, and skipped in merry passes, revealing the schism between form and feeling. Implicit is the Roman church’s sado-masochistic excitement at the representation of Mary, mother of Jesus, in her moment of anguished grief, as the vessel of mortification and sorrow that believers should aspire to in contemplation of Christ’s ultimate and bloody sacrifice. That this idea should be elaborated in such a musically sensuous, celebratory style singularly at odds with its subject, is one of civilization’s exquisite, yet abundant paradoxes, and the primary focus of the Fabulosa production. The sense of contradiction is echoed in finer details throughout the performance and is given special focus in the costuming, which plays a central role. One singer is laced tightly into a corset severely compressing the waist, and the other is obliged to saddle herself with a steel-framed pannier belt, which works to dramatically expand the hipline. They both put on identical, pastel colored dresses and harmonize perfectly. Their lofty, powdered wigs are adorned with miniature bird cages, inside of which are tiny birds; the spirit of freedom and movement is entrapped and stilled for human contemplation. The puritanical mindset might demur, but the baroque era is nothing if not  anathema to such a sensibility.

Stabat Mater Fabulosa itself is a rich confection for contemplation. I couldn’t begin to pretend I had understood or unpacked all the pointed charades and features on show. Of course there will be purists (as opposed to puritans) who will not countenance this kind of aggressive deconstruction of a classic that, in some measure, still owns a religious dimension. But that would be their loss. This is a show that could prove as poised on a Las Vegas stage as it might at La Scala. One scene, where the scantily clad singers, supine together atop the grand piano, draw on stockinged hose while intoning Latin lines of dolorous gravity – “O how sad and afflicted was that blessed mother of the only- begotten” – could write its own ticket to play anywhere. Well, almost anywhere. And that alone, perhaps, might suffice as a badge of success.

Brett Umlauf and Amber Youell were respectively the soprano and alto performers and displayed a real harmonizing intimacy in their singing, despite all the distractions they had to attend to. Kelly Savage was the stalwart keyboard accompanist, and Laura Careless devised choreography and movement. The projections were supplied by Jessica Ng, and the utterly thoughtful and no less fabulous costumes were the work of Annie Holt. One would hope and think that this production was on the radar of the opera community, and that it should stimulate the sort of discussion and investigation that Morningside Opera aspire to provoke. For all its playful heart, Stabat Mater Fabulosa ultimately proves perfectly serious.

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For more information about Morningside Opera please visit their site and join them on Facebook.

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Flux Theatre Ensemble’s production of Menders (written by Erin Browne and directed by Heather Cohn) currently playing at The Gym at Judson will catch you by surprise – but not all at once.  It will do so in subtle ways, often, and always differently than it did moments before.

First you will be drawn in by the simple aesthetics of the piece, which unfolds with a wisp of mystery but a promise of payoff in the end because, of course, that’s the way all good stories wrap up. Not necessarily with a good ending, or a bad ending, but a powerful ending which simply means one interlude has come to its natural conclusion.  Director Heather Cohn understands how to build the perfect scaffolding around this story, which is a story of stories — each story within it also coming to not a good ending, or a bad ending … simply a powerful one.

Next you will be moved by the poem Mending Wall by Robert Frost which is recited in part by each character in kind as they move about the stage and gather items, disappearing and reappearing from behind several substantial walls that dominate the set (beautifully and cleanly designed by Cory Rodriguez).  You’ll know what they’re reciting if you’ve read your program cover ahead of time — if not, it will come up soon enough and the elegance with which the symbolism is used is exquisite; each time lines from the verse are repeated they catch your ear differently, each iteration vibrating with a deeper meaning of what it means to keep people out, or in, or know precisely which it is that is being done.  I’m sure those who have already seen the show were quick (as I was) to sit with the poem and see it through fresh eyes.

Subsequently you will be captivated by the non-linear story telling, woven so perfectly by playwright Erin Browne, who has a talent for creating not abrupt scene changes nor cheap cliff hangers, but rather recuperative moments of contemplation between stories so that each journey has the necessary amount of time to settle with -and permeate through- the audience.

And ultimately you will be gripped by the strong performances of the actors who so deftly lay this story out to the audience in a way that has your heart beating along with theirs – in love, in fear, in sadness, in freedom, in hope … in despair.

Menders is a story about stories – real stories that have hidden gems of magic, magical stories that have heartbreaking elements of reality – all wrapped up in the bigger story of  what it means to follow your heart versus follow the rules and the consequences of doing either.

The play begins in a society not so different from — and yet completely different than — ours.  Some might say it is where we could be heading if we’re not careful.  It’s either a utopia or a dystopia, based on who you ask, but either way it’s a country that’s walled in, safe … patrolled by Menders.  Their job is to walk the wall and report any breaks or suspicious tracks.  After that their report goes to the Investigators who follow up and the Crew who do the actual mending.  When we first meet a Mender, Corey, (Sol Marina Crespo) she is pleading to an unseen panel of judges; she is broken … yet still believing in the cause, still true to her country.   She is patriotic, even as she has no idea why she is being held or questioned; still true to the system of government that she knows is ultimately right regardless of how wrongly she is being treated.

Sol Marina Crespo & Isaiah Tanenbaum in Menders (Photo credit: Justin Hoch)

A quick turn and time spins backwards; it is much earlier and Corey is in training, all energy and eagerness.  It’s the first day and she’s with her cousin Aimes (Isaiah Tanenbaum) who is also eager, but far more nervous about their new mission.  They are greeted by Drew (Matt Archambault), their trainer who – it seems – is on his last tour as he is about to pack it in for a desk job.  He blames the wear and tear all the walking has done to his feet, but subtle clues hint that there’s a deeper reason here.

Vivia Font & Mike Mihm in Menders (Photo credit: Justin Hoch)

Soon the patrolling starts and it turns out to be surprisingly … dull.  To pass the time Drew tells stories to Corey and Aimes … stories that were “something someone told him once” but Corey surmises “…it was stuff he’d learned as an Investigator – outside the Wall.”  One story is about a gentle, lonely farmer, Jeff (Mike Mihm) who finds a woman in his wheat-field one day – a woman, Lila (Vivia Font) who got there by the power of her own wings – beautiful, shimmering structures that are part of her and have brought her to him.  So entranced is he by her captivating beauty that he does whatever he can to ensure that she never leaves him – even the worst thing he could possibly do to her.  His actions wind up keeping her in a type of prison, by his side but refusing to speak to him. The story of Jeff and Lila is Aimes’ favorite.

The second story, also metered out in small parcels, is about a subway troubadour, Ash (Raushanah Simmons) who comes upon a woman one day, Tam (Ingrid Nordstrom), who never goes above ground during the day because she’s allergic to sunlight.  Ash, like Jeff in his story, is similarly captivated by this woman and boldly takes steps to win her over.  Tam, fragile, skittish, nervous, is not easily won.  Ash even goes so far as to gift Tam with a star she found in the park.  Eventually the two women come to some middle ground and the future looks bright.  This story is Corey’s favorite despite the fact that “every fiber of her being” knows that two women together in a “man/woman” way is wrong.  Like Aimes, she waits out the duller stories until “her” story is told by Drew.

In between telling these stories the action reverts back to the present day, where Corey is still defending herself in an unexplained arena.  She will often go on to explain more of the early days of training.

Criss-crossing through all these interlinked stories – some fabricated (or so we’re told), some re-envisioned, is the main theme of Menders: that every character there is a mender of one sort or another, for every one of them is broken somehow and needs to be repaired in a way that requires attention, love, respect, and diligence. Each of their stories – presented to the audience as either fiction or true account – illustrates that every one of us can be simultaneously broken and fixed — and a mender — which is perhaps why, in the end, there is no actual resolution to any of the stories – not even Corey’s.  She has been on trial for most of it, but perhaps her biggest accuser has been herself; and her biggest entreaty is not on her own behalf but on the behalf of all the broken – for all to be spared and given understanding.  Although, perhaps, even she doesn’t know that.

Matthew Archambault & Isaiah Tanenbaum in Menders (Photo credit: Justin Hoch)

Once again, Flux shows an expertise at assembling incredible actors to bring their productions to life; the team of menders (Archambault, Crespo and Tanenbaum) are the solid core of the piece with Ms. Crespo, as Corey, serving as the pinion that keeps the other stories in play.  She has the most difficult role, needing to convincingly portray fresh-faced and earnest one moment before becoming broken and discouraged the next; confused by the way her dream crumbled.  Matt Archambault (always a formidable Flux presence) as Drew is able to give a still-waters-run-deep snapshot of a man; his choices are subtle but compelling, allowing the audience to look for clues to his truth that he works hard to obscure.

Isaiah Tanenbaum (another Flux favorite) gives dimension to Aimes which elevates the character from a simple yes-man to a touching human being on the brink of discovering the power of secrets that had been heretofore hidden from him.

Vivia Font is downright beguiling as Lila – a woman who, inexplicably, has wings.  She is so believable, and so invested, that her attatchment to them is never questionable.  Moreover, as her character goes speechless for part of her scenes she does a beautiful job of emoting from a much deeper place; so fully expressing Lila’s pain, doubt, and regret with little more than a twitch of her mouth and a downcast eye.  For his part Mike Mihm is able to make Jeff endearing when all outward signs would have you dislike him for his thoughtless actions, and in the end when he pays the ultimate price he breaks your heart as he bears silent witness to his punishment.

Raushanah Simmons & Ingrid Nordstrom in Menders (Photo credit: Justin Hoch)

Raushanah Simmons as Ash and Ingrid Nordstrom as Tam prove to be the perfect yin/yang pair; where Ash is strong, forthright, determined, bold, and even a bit mischievious, Tam is anxious, unsure, quiet … yet curious.  Simmons and Nordstrom are a joy to watch as they peel back the layers of this tentative relationship, dancing a dance with awkward but insistent steps.  They not only have a terrific chemistry, but an estimable knack for getting you to root for their relationship to succeed.

When speaking with Artistic Director August Schulenburg a few weeks before seeing the show he advised “Menders is very ‘Flux’y”. I love that Flux Theatre has so strongly identified their brand that a play immediately resonates as “Fluxy”. And I love that the minute he said that to me I already had a notion of what to expect – and was excited about it.  Now that I’ve seen it not only do I agree – Fluxy! – but I’m once again awed by the talented ensemble that is Flux.  Simply put: this is a beautiful story – told beautifully.  Let it surprise and delight you … and perhaps even mend you too.

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The writer and performer of Horripilation!, John Sowle, is unquestionably a shining light in the fields of research and preservation of obscure global theatrical traditions, as well as being an imposing performative figure in the relating and embodiment of these same traditions. In 1973, with a Fulbright fellowship to research a doctoral thesis in dramatic art, he spent time at the Kerala Kalamandalam in southern India, where he was obliged to rise each morning at 3 a.m. in order to begin his day’s grueling training in traditional dance movement and actorly craft. Kept on his feet for hours at a time, in a highly repetitive form of dance stepping, his relief would come finally in the form of a massage administered by his teacher (asan), who would walk up and down his back while he lay in a formally controlled position. It should come as no surprise that classical traditions of drama and dance, wherever they originate, involved a regimen of severe physical hardship and mental discipline, but the sharing of these events in the performance by Mr. Sowle, as he reproduces the exercises nearly forty years later, is quite something to witness.

He is telling us about the southern Indian tradition of Kutiyattam, and of the Natya Shastra of Bharata, an ancient text on the rules and aesthetics of theater – a medium itself imparted to humankind as a divine gift because its sacred deviser would not entrust the gods with such a potent form of diversion. The historical and mythic dimensions of the tradition are complex and rich, and as involved as the formal rites, rules, and roles of the drama are exhaustive. Alone on stage, in traditional Indian garb, Mr. Sowle enumerates some of the primary categories of consideration as to theatrical principles: for the erection of a theater, the composition of such, the qualities requisite in an actor, and the physical language of actorly expression. He demonstrates for us as he does so, at one point marching out into the auditorium with a length of rope in order to show the necessary dimensions required in establishing both the performance space, and the audience space. Indeed, and not surprisingly, there are rules that extend to the audience too, as to their composition, number, and receptiveness. In many ways we are witnessing a form of cultural archaeology.

As he speaks, gestures, and dances, the actor casually moves the minimal props around the space, and matter-of-factly attires himself in various parts of his costume and make-up. He segues easily into excerpted scenes from classical epics of sanskrit, demonstrating the formalized expressions and gestures he has introduced to us. Short of an enticing image of himself as a young man, cycling in the hours before dawn, through monsoon rains to classes, he does not deliver any personal content. Indeed, at the heart of the Kutiyattam tradition is the notion of a non-empathic experience on the part of the audience, a learned, highly abstracted and aestheticized appreciation of the codified artifice of performance. Mr. Sowle here seems uninterested in breaking with this tradition. To whit, at the end of the show I felt like I had been attending a highly informative lecture that made imaginative use of demonstration. I did not feel I had witnessed a dramatic performance. If I had anticipated attending an educational presentation, I might have been a little more prepared to sound the depths of my considerable ignorance.  As it was, I felt a little cheated out of my expectation of a moment of imaginative catharsis. Consciously or unconsciously, we come to theater with our own inherited expectations of  in what a drama should consist.

Mr. Sowle does have one great “dramatic” trump card in this piece, which he plays to perfection right at the conclusion. Horripilation, a word we should all adopt into our vocabularies, is a term describing the upward movement of the hairs on our skins on account of goosebumps stimulated by something observed. In Kutiyattam, all performers should be capable of producing this effect in their audience. For the jaded audiences of the present, it sounds like a tall order. But eerily, almost quietly, the actor creates just this effect in the final five minutes of his show as, fully painted and costumed in high finery, he becomes an extraordinary character while dancing in a quaint, exotic manner, eye and head movements formally observing the codes he has related. You were looking at something quite other, quite riveting. I didn’t check to see if I had goosebumps but, for several minutes together, I was experiencing something quite beyond them.

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Horripilation! was featured as part of the Times Square International Theater Festival at the Roy Arias Studios & Theatres located at 300 W. 43rd St, NY, NY.

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It isn’t easy to tell an entire story without one word of spoken dialogue, let alone give proper attention to two concurrent plots that run simultaneously but never intertwine, except emotionally.  Yet SEASONS does just that, and with such deep resonance that sold-out houses were sobbing as they watched the four central characters of Elaine Pechacek and Katie Hammond’s original musical live through one very specific year that, for them, was filled with love, joy, regret, confusion, despair, birth, and death.

When we first meet the four characters they are all about to experience Just One Moment that changes the trajectory of the path they’ve been on up until now – a moment which provides the basis of each character’s plot arc for this one pivotal year we are about to live through with them.

Helen (Kristyn Chalker) has just walked into her reunion and is in a mischievous mood, looking for a chance to feel like she can have any guy there. Peter (Kyle Szen), an earnest type who apparently didn’t measure up in high school, winds up being the guy that takes her home and can’t believe his good fortune.   Across town Mrs. Jones’ (Amy Arbizzani) whole life changes in just one moment as we find her reacting to the news that she has cancer.  Shocked and angry, she vows to get a second opinion.  Unaware of this new development Mrs. Jones’ daughter, Hope, (Katie Hammond) is leaving a message for her mother excitedly explaining that her boyfriend has proposed and in just one moment she has now become engaged and her world is filled with promise and possibility.  As the song progresses Helen finds she’s waking up nauseous — her one moment resulted in an unplanned pregnancy with her Mr. Right Now.  Beautifully setting the scene (as well as the tone)  we now know that this is going to be a roller-coaster of a year.

Peter is not only up for the challenge of being a father but is excited to prove that he can be the right man for Helen, so he proposes (Take You Away). Unsure of what else to do, Helen accepts, convincing herself that she can Make It Work. Making it work, in this case, includes deferring medical school and starting a life with a man she’s less than enthusiastic about.  Director Danny Williams creates a heartbreaking moment as Helen, steeling herself in the mirror, is unaware that Peter has walked in on her self-pep-talk; the look of hope that turns to hurt and then is quickly masked which dances across Kyle Szen’s face hit like a punch and layered in more subtext than any line of dialogue could have done.

As Hope prepares for her wedding, Mrs. Jones is having a harder time concealing her illness.  She convinces her daughter to Take A Walk with her and in a tumbling of words she explains her condition, but also stresses the importance of enjoying the moment … as she explains that she can fight as long as she has the support and love of her daughter. Hope is shocked and dismayed but knows can’t change what is inevitable.

Peter and Helen who have now wed (Wedding Bells) and are preparing for their child are living out marital bliss far less blissfully than Peter had hoped.  Helen, who is angry and bloated, is doing nothing to hide her resentment and bitterness, tossing aside the present Peter brings home for her. Peter, exasperated, explains that he’s been Working So Hard to make a life for her and the baby and begs her to stop shutting him out and start appreciating him for the good man he is.

Kristyn Chalker as Helen / Kyle Szen as Peter (photo by Lee Wexler/Images for Innovation)

By mid play Helen is great with child and Mrs. Jones is sinking deeper into her illness after Hope’s wedding. Each women, in a pivotal moment when the life force actually moves from one story-line to the other, gives a truly showstopping performance as they rail against what is happening to their body; Helen (Push) screams with pain and fear as Peter stands by hoping to calm her through her delivery, while Mrs. Jones (Second Opinion)  screams in anger and frustration at this disease which is overtaking her and now looks like it will defeat her.  Both of these songs are star turns for the actresses – I was mesmerized by each as I watched Kristyn Chalker and Amy Arbizzani (respectively) belt out pain and frustration and hurt and anger and fear with such deep emotional accomplishment.  I think the entire audience was out of breath watching these two powerhouses live through these life changing events.

The third act finds Helen and Mrs. Jones far calmer as they make peace with the new changes in their lives; Helen sings her new daughter a Lullaby in which she expresses how truly astonished she is at how she could feel such love for her new daughter.  As Mrs. Jones is quietly dying in her own daughter’s arms she sings a peaceful song of letting go, advising her child Don’t Take For Granted the wonderful things life has to offer, the hidden moments of pleasure that are everywhere.

Amy Arbizzani as Mrs. Jones / Katie Hammond as Hope (Lee Wexler/Images for Innovation)

The final Lullaby (Reprise) has Helen singing lovingly to her baby daughter while Hope sings to her dying mother, the cycle of birth and death completed as each woman embraces what was brought with the seasons . (Song below is from an earlier showcase.)

As a musical team Elaine Pechacek and Katie Hammond are strong; they understand how to approach a complex issue and develop it in a way that gives it a foundation of truth as well as drama.  The melodies were not just catchy, hummable, and memorable but also richly layered with flavors and nuances that delviered a vivid emotional spectrum and allowed the audience to see  each character’s faults and failures as well as their triumphs.

It’s no wonder SEASONS was sold out almost before it was announced in the festival and that a fourth show had to be added.  I see a long life for this beautiful story – and hopefully many more Seasons of success for the team of Pechacek and Hammond.

SEASONS was featured as part of the Times Square International Theater Festival at the Roy Arias Studios & Theatres located at 300 W. 43rd St, NY, NY.

~~~

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• Review- Legacy Of The Tiger Mother (Times Square International Theater Festival 2012)

“There is failure and there is success.  What better way to measure this than the piano?”

If you were the child who spent your afternoons inside practicing the piano (or another musical instrument) while you could hear other children running around in the sunshine you no doubt have an ache in your heart when now, as an adult, you hear other people discussing their memories of playing in the streets, or even watching endless hours of after-school cartoons.  Sure,  you may have agile fingers which allow you to type an error-free 75 WPM but aside from that, are you really any better off?  Was it worth it?

Let’s take it one step further.  Imagine you are Mei (Lynn Craig), grown daughter of Lily (Satomi Hofmann), who monitors her daughter Kim’s practicing from the other room.  Distractedly tapping away on her blackberry she suddenly hears the words of her mother boom from her own lips as Kim prepares for recital day: “You will practice that piece until you can play it 20 times perfectly!” Stunned, Mei realized she has stepped up and taken on the Legacy of the Tiger Mother.

Written by Angela Chan (who also served as lyricist, composer, musical director and producer) who loosely based the story on her own childhood, it is easy to take a step back many times during the performance and evaluate what all those years of practice produced.  As you hear Chan’s expert piano playing and excellent talent for composition and musical phrasing it deeply underlines the message that yes …  all those afternoons behind the piano did well to form an accomplished musician.  But remove that meta-information for a moment and let Tiger Mother stand on its own.  You’ll find a touching, sometimes funny, sometimes poignant story about strong women who make sacrifices for their daughters because that is the legacy that is handed down, generation to generation.

Recital Day! Legacy of the Tiger Mother: Lynn Craig (Mei) and Satomi Hofmann (Lily)

Unseen, but intrinsic to the plot are granddaughter Kim (whose recital day opens and closes the play) and Lily’s own mother whom she speaks to in a moving monologue.  Co-writer Michael Manley interweaves seamlessly with Chan to create a gift of a show that celebrates the mother-daughter bond through music.

Director Lysander Abadia does an expert job with  these two strong female leads; Ms. Craig (Mei) must convincingly go from pig-tailed tween to eye-rolling teen to intrepid college girl to mother all in the span of an hour.  Similarly Abadia coaxes all the subtle and necessary nuances from Satomi Hofmann (Lily) so that the Tiger Mother does not come off as a one-note shrew but rather embodies all the complexities of a hard-working woman who insists “Sometimes a mother must choose for her daughter” and then breaks your heart as the basis for this statement is revealed.

Fans of crazed-stage-mother shows such as Toddlers & Tiaras can recognized that Lily’s admonishment “First prize in your division is NOT the Grand Prize!” sounds dangerously familiar; yet this “parading of our youth” that they sing of in “Recital Day” is not about how pretty or poised a child is, but how disciplined, how focused, how diligent … how structured.  The not-so-hidden-message is that only a child with goals can succeed in the world.

Ultimately Mei finds that she passes some of the Legacy of the Tiger Mother down to Kim … however not all of it.  The show ends with a new style of parenting being introduced, and a new version of success deemed acceptable.

So, to go back to the original question – Was it worth it?  In Angela Chan’s case I’d say the answer is: Yes it was.  Without a doubt.

Legacy of the Tiger Mother was featured as part of the Times Square International Theater Festival at the Roy Arias Studios & Theatres located at 300 W. 43rd St, NY, NY.

~~~

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In a late hour email before I attended the first night performance of The Mad Ones‘ Samuel & Alasdair: A Personal History of the Robot War at the New Ohio Theatre, I was notified that Con Edison were currently addressing a problem with the theatre’s heating system and I should consider dressing in a thick sweater. I grumbled a bit putting on my thick sweater as I headed out, but was actually entirely comfortable in my seat for the duration of the performance. Thinking about it now, it is not inconceivable that this alert may have been part of the very clever, meticulously thoughtful and imaginative production team’s idea at generating a theatrical reality for their play. How very 1950s to deploy a thick sweater while attending a theatre in wintertime, be it in the U.S.S.R. or the U.S.A. The production might have been dressing the audience for their performance.

The reason I am left with this speculation is because it seems there is nothing, quite simply nothing, that this production has not given some sharp thought to in their dramatization; sharp thought and imaginative response to. The thoroughness with which the team at The Mad Ones have undertaken this self-authored work is as impressive as it is deeply satisfying. Originally premiered at Brooklyn’s The Brick in 2010 – a production that garnered them a deal of notice and a clutch of NY Innovative Theatre awards and nominations – the play, allegedly, has undergone some minor tinkering and some extra polish since then. The result is a real gift for theatre lovers.

Developed by the ensemble from a premise by writer/actor Marc Bovino, the play springs from the somewhat cracked idea that the 20th century’s Cold War was interrupted at the end of the fifties by an invasion of giant robots who emerged from the ground in the U.S. mid-west. (Hmmm…) The action unfolds years later, in an unrecognizable analog-using present,  in a secret bunker hold-up in Irkutsk where a team of Russian radio actors are broadcasting diversionary entertainment, complete with lackluster advertising interludes, to a devastated global audience. The fact that we are in a traumatized world where humanity’s survival hangs by a thread  is never elaborated upon, merely suggested by a series of panicked siren warnings, over the air explosions, morse coded messages, and enigmatic episodes which are never explained. The characters take them all in their stride, never engaging in discussion about what is exactly going on. Instead we are treated to a lightly comic work environment where, whilst telling a radio story for their listeners – the tragic tale of fond brothers Alasdair and Samuel, “our favorite story” the on air host calls it – cornily rendered into a nostalgic, hackneyed narrative with songs, the broadcasting team – the host, an actor/technical advisor, an actress, a musician – go through their routine professionally bored with the familiarity of the material, mutely (we are live on air, after all) signaling and interacting with each other. Reality is presented as a dumb show behind an elaborately artificial dramatized story. These are Russian performers – what the U.S.S.R. now looks like we can only guess at (not so good as evidenced here) – presenting a touching tale set in the U.S heartlands that deploys American country music favorites from the fifties to build atmosphere and entertainment. The piece might be both crassly comical and unbearably ponderous if it weren’t for the considerable judgement at work in spinning such an apparently simple, if far-fetched story. The tiers of story telling each take a turn in the spotlight – the radio narrative, the actor’s interactions, the vast cataclysmic backdrop off stage – but all are held in a tight balance, and knit seamlessly together. As corny and at once bizarre as the tale of the two brothers is, we are brought to the brink of tragedy in the story telling. As compelling and troubling as the situation of the radio actors is – the vivid, nuanced performances of each allude to complicated backstories beyond the scenario presented – everything is perfectly framed within these scenes. And as apocalyptic and sci-fi as this story world is, all is solidly foregrounded in what is another ordinary day for the characters in their extraordinary situation.

I don’t believe I’ve sat through a performance before where the question of who the dramaturg is seemed so pressing. Mark it down to the uniform excellence on show. In this case it is Sarah Lunnie, who must take her part in the laudations well deserved by company members Lila Neugebauer (director),  actors and musicians Marc Bovino (Dr. Mischa Romanav), Joe Curnutte (radio host), Stephanie Wright Thompson (Anastasia Volinski), and Michael Dalto (Alexei ‘Tumbleweed’ Petrovya).  Impossible not to include mention of the contributions by everyone involved, but especially Stowe Nelson (sound design), Laura Jellinek (set design), and Mike Inwood (lighting).

Though listed as only the third production by this young company, founded just in 2009, it seems admirably mature in every way. They offer theatre thrillingly neither fish nor fowl, original, skillful, honed and captivating, with a lightly worn mocking panache of its own which stresses how stubbornly married we are to the notion of story in order to make our lives tolerable. I can hardly recommend The Mad Ones’ Samuel & Alasdair highly enough. As another author who knew a thing or two about dramatic story telling once wrote, “Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.”

~~~

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Three heavy hitters have teamed up on Broadway to give audiences an evening of kinship wrapped in contention with Relatively Speaking: three one-act comedies which cover various forms of familial remedy, rivalry and racket.  Four-time Oscar winner Ethan Coen, two-time Oscar nominee Elaine May and multiple award winner Woody Allen each offer up their views on the subject, resulting in short plays which each bear the distinct mark of their unique brand of writing; all delivered under the deft direction of John Turturro.

Danny Hoch and Jason Kravits in Talking Cure by Ethan Coen (Photo: Joan Marcus)

Ethan Coen handles the “remedy” side of things and is first up with Talking Cure.  Coen’s distinctive, brooding style is in evidence throughout this snappy first act which finds Jerry, a post office worker (Danny Hoch – delivering his performance like a shaken soda can about to explode) having recently gone … well … postal.  Now committed to a mental hospital, Jerry receives routine visits from his therapist (Jason Kravits) who tries to reach him in earnest.  Set during a series of fast paced discussions — punctuated by abrupt blackouts — Jerry battles the doctor at every turn.  Their verbal sparring brings frustration to both as “everybody has problems” becomes a constant refrain.

Even as the doctor tries in vain to promote his “talking cure”, he is needled by his patient: “What if I start talking too much?  Is there a ‘shut-the-fuck-up’ cure?”

In a quick set change, we’re suddenly transitioned from the world of Jerry (who has gotten more belligerent) and his doctor (who has become increasingly frustrated) to a quiet dinner scene which rolls forward complete with demure solid wooden fixtures, elegant table setting and grand picture windows.

However, what first appears to be a quiet evening at home for this couple (Allen Lewis Rickman and Katherine Borowitz) quickly devolves into a shrill argument that, like any fight, shows there’s no topic too random or irrelevant to use as ammunition when you’re angry — so of course it makes perfect sense when a phantom couple called “the Hitlers” are conjured up  purely to be used to underscore a point.  The woman is pregnant and it doesn’t take much after that to find that the unborn baby is destined to become Larry the postal worker.  Talking Cure is a perfect bite-sized play that archly illustrates the notion, “With parents like these, no wonder he turned out like that”.

Marlo Thomas and Lisa Emery in George is Dead by Elaine May (Photo: Joan Marcus)

Next up is Elaine May providing the rivalry with her beautiful gem George Is Dead.  Artfully interweaving laughter and blunt observation, she serves up two very different women who had the opportunity to be reared by the same woman – though each was given a far different allotment of time and attention and stands now in a very different world.   Carla (a no-nonsense Lisa Emery) is anxiously awaiting her husband’s return after a delay at her mother’s house has caused her to miss his acceptance speech at an awards ceremony.  Ridden by guilt, she paces and leaves messages in the hopes of convincing him to return home.   A middle-of-the-night knock on her door proves to be Doreen (Marlo Thomas) who tumbles into Carla’s apartment on the brink of hysteria screeching, “George is dead!” and then proceeds to turn Carla’s night upside down.

Not close friends, not even somewhat related, the wealthy Doreen was raised by Carla’s mother who was her nanny.  Now grown the woman admits to not having seen her nanny in 40 years but somehow manages to stagger to Carla’s place since everyone else she knows is unavailable, and in the wake of this upsetting news of her husband’s tragic accidental death, she’s helpless.  And rich.  Surely she’s not expected to do anything is she?

What follows is an utterly priceless night of watching as Doreen simply pouts and tantrums her way out of taking any action.  “What will I do?” she wails at one point, “I don’t have the depth to feel this bad!“  As she reels off the things that usually constitute a bad day in her protected world (all the while instructing Carla to scrape the salt off her saltines), she comes off not so much malicious as simply vapid and unaware of anything but herself.  In fact, when Carla asks “Have you been listening to me?” she replies, “Not really.  I’m always stunned that people listen to each other’s stories.”

And so, throughout the night, we find more and more how Carla was left alone as her mother tended to Doreen, and how Doreen was utterly dependent upon her Nanny while being completely oblivious of the woman’s personal life.

When Carla’s husband (Grant Shaud) comes home a long-brewing tension erupts and he leaves her.  Oblivious, Doreen hunkers down and continues to expect Carla to arrange for George’s body to be transported back to New York, to call the lawyers, even to give her a nightgown, and tend to her throughout the night.

Ultimately there is a heartbreaking moment when Carla’s mother arrives on the scene the next morning to coax the petulant Doreen into her (borrowed) black dress.  Taking charge, Nanny  does for Doreen what she never did for her own daughter: command the situation.  It is an ironic move for an old woman who, helpless and baffled by her remote only the night before, caused Carla to miss her husband’s speech and unwittingly set that tragedy in motion.  Now, however, there is no time to inquire about her daughter’s broken marriage … her Doreen needs her.  As the two close ranks, as if no time had passed, it is absolutely devastating.  Not only does the scene unfold brilliantly, but the pain leaves a surprisingly raw scratch after such strong comedic performance.

Ari Graynor and Steve Guttenberg in Honeymoon Motel by Woody Allen Photos (Photo: Joan Marcus)

Woody Allen caps of the evening’s fare with the typical racket in Honeymoon Motel.  This one-act finds Allen at his best and hearkening back to breezier days of fast one-liners and quippy zingers.  This play is all about what happens when, as one of the characters notes, “a mid-life crisis turns into an end-life crisis.”  And once again, parallels to Allen’s life are in evidence — though don’t distract from the broad humor of the piece.

When we come upon the happy couple – a May/December pair who seem as excited to get down to the business at hand as they are about the sheer tackiness of the decor of the honeymoon suite – they are breathless with joy and exhilaration.  Soon enough, we find that the bride Nina (Ari Graynor) and her tuxedo’d romeo Jerry (Steve Guttenberg) aren’t actually what they seem.

Shortly, the love-nest becomes a hub of activity as every in-law and even the rabbi and the shrink comes crashing through the door, each brandishing their own shtick and often times simply unleashing jokes into the room to no one in particular.  It’s chaos done right, however, in a Marx Brothers “Is my Aunt Minnie in here?” kind of way, and all the fabulous actors are given their moment to shine, despite the pandemonium.  Ultimately it is not the Rabbi or even the Therapist who manages to calm the roiling storm, but the pizza delivery guy – who arrives in the nick of time – with a pie that’s half sausage, half pepperoni and all wisdom.

Relatively Speaking covers a lot of ground in its three short acts; while not all of it hits the same mark in terms of symmetry, there is still a certain rhythm created through the entire piece thanks to Turturro’s strong direction.  He takes care to build up some of the weaker spots and reign in the areas that could have gone careening off … this keeps a common element flowing throughout three very different plays making them more of a cohesive whole.

While there are no real deep insights to take away from this night of theatre, there is certainly an abundance of fine acting and wonderful laughs — with May’s middle piece fastening the two bookend plays in place.

If fighting with your own family no longer holds the same kicks it used to, come down to the Brooks Atkinson Theater and listen in as these great writers put the fun back in dysfunctional.

~~~

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4 Cents Review – When 2 reviewers each give their 2 cents.

Today, The Happiest Medium offers a 4 cents review of The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin. Read on as Karen Tortora-Lee and Michelle Augello-Page each give their two cents on this exciting production by Purple Repertory Theater!

Michelle: The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin is a contemporary retelling of the story of Adam and Eve. Written by Larry Kunofsky and directed by Jose Zayas, the play offers a unique, symbolic, and provocative look at this biblical story of original sin, and how man and woman were cast from the garden of Eden and into the world.

The garden of Eden in this play is set in no specific place, but appears to be a rural work-farm. The stage set is the inside of the worker’s living quarters, and each scene takes place in some form of darkness. Low burning lanterns on either side of the stage are subtle and cleverly utilized to illuminate the stage and indicate the passage of time. Sound is also employed to provide context and setting as each scene breaks into the next.

Karen: While the setting itself is ambiguous, almost immediately – from the very first spoken word (“Light”) - The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin tethers itself to a very specific rhythm with a very specific language. How To Begin is peppered with language that could be found in any number of Edward G. Robinson films, or The Bowery Boys shorts.  When sitting down to write – or re-write – one of the best known creation myths it would be easy to fall into a mode which mirrors the original landscape and simply tweaks it; here is where Kunofsky’s  brilliance as a writer is in abundance.  How To Begin flips the script and puts creation in a place where we wouldn’t necessarily envision it; and that’s what keeps it utterly refreshing.

The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin

Michelle: One of the most unusual aspects to this play is the dialogue, reminiscent of 1930s idiomatic speech. Although there is no stated time period for the play, the 1930s are mirrored in several other ways, found in the stage set and clothing of the characters. At first, my ear had to adjust to the 1930s language. However, I soon realized that this use of dialogue provided a subcontext to the play which was a stroke of genius.

Karen: By using language that has its own voltage built in, an immediate heat is created between the characters; scenes crackle with a sensuality and raw sexual energy.  Further, by using poetic and lyrical phrases which have either gone by the wayside or have changed in meaning Kunofsky parallels the original text of the creation myth which, itself, has constantly been re-interpreted over the years, ultimately giving the text deeper (if not sometimes conflicting) value.

Michelle: The dialogue moved the play forward lightly and quickly, and also kept the audience laughing, even in the most serious and heart-wrenching scenes. Using the idioms and affects of the 1930s was a brilliant touch, as the sub-context of the world became clearer. The 1930s remind me always of the great depression, a time in American history of devastating poverty, when many people had lost faith in the government and were simply struggling to survive.

A certain lawlessness permeates 1930s culture as people were cast from illusion of the American dream and thrown into the great depression under a government that could not shelter them, becoming a place where bootleggers, gangsters, and the godless flourished. It is no small wonder that The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin finds some roots here.

The play features the four characters of the biblical tale in a similar 1930s pulp fashion, and we find God as “The Boss” (Hugh Sinclair), Adam as “The Kid” (Luke Forbes), the Snake as “The Old Broad” (Annie Henk), and Eve as “The Tomater” (Anna Lamadrid). These actors deliver stellar performances, and the multi-ethnic cast works together to deliver a story that succeeds in obviating race to represent humanity. The gender differences inherent in the Adam and Eve story are present; however, the balances struck between men and women are the places the characters find both shelter and power.

Karen: What is so elegant about the way the story unfolds through these four characters is how, while it completely sticks to the source material, the words spoken are somehow seen as earnest hyperbole.  Serveral times there is a moment where the duality is perfect, such as this moment when The Kid is telling The Old Broad:

… The only world is this here place. Maybe a body can hear some goings on away from here. A lotta rigamaroll and mucketymuck. A lotta things too busy fer their own concern. But here is everything. All’s there is, is right here. And on the day I came here, that was the day the world began.

"The Boss" (Hugh Sinclair), "The Kid" (Luke Forbes), "The Old Broad" (Annie Henk), and "The Tomater" (Anna Lamadrid) photo by Kacey Stamats

Michelle: “The Boss” is the owner of the land. In exchange for work, he offers room and board; however, he demands obedience and an adherence to his rules. “The Boss” is all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful. Hugh Sinclair plays this character with a tough, almost menacing, omnipotence, shaken to vulnerability after the Fall.

“The Kid”, played by Luke Forbes with great sensitivity and strength, represents Adam. He is grateful to work for The Boss, but he is lonely, restless, growing, and learning who he is. His unhappiness at being alone on the work-farm is alleviated by the appearance of “The Tomater”, who becomes his lover, temptress, and savior. Throughout the play, we witness The Kid grow into a greater awareness as he finds himself becoming a man.

“The Old Broad” is the female representation of the snake. Annie Henk’s character is sexy and smart; she slithers seductively across the stage as a woman who has seen it all, done it all. Henk shines as the most worldly character in the play, whose role is to both tempt and awaken the other characters.

“The Tomater”, played with moxie by Anna Lamadrid, is the woman brought to the work-farm to be a companion for The Kid. This Eve balances naivete and fragility with nerve and an iron will. The scene where she first arrives is one of the best in the play. The dialogue sparkles with wit and tenderness as the Adam and Eve characters meet each other for the first time, touch each other, learn and create a language for the body, and each other.

The eroticism in The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin is tempered with suggestion, revealing a natural sexuality that is neither exploitive nor explicit. Moments of sexual reveal are accompanied with a certain degree of joy, as the pleasure to be found in the body is accepted without fear.

The apple in this story is ”Apple Jack”, the Boss’s hidden stash of illegal liquor, which brings us back to 1930s prohibition and governmental control. Tasting the prohibited brew gives them “big ideas” and makes them question and challenge the rules laid out by “The Boss”.  Their sin lies in this uncovering, this ultimate reveal. They are fired by The Boss and cast out, but in a twist from the original tale, they grasp the opportunity and embrace the chance to recreate the world anew.

Karen: Director Jose Zayas is obviously accomplished and does extraordinary work to bring Kunofsky’s world to life.  The production team has created not only a play but a feeling — an atmosphere — an experience.  You are not only watching this world but connecting to it as it creates itself.  Plays like  The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin are rare: filled with beauty, truth, erotic power, and healing humor.  Beyond a simple retelling of a creation myth, this play redefines what it means to go back to the beginning.

~~~
PURPLE REPRETORY THEATER COMPANY

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