Beautiful Traces

“Beautiful Traces”

SPOILER

Performed at City Theater Sunday matinee on Aug. 19^th, 2007

Writer: Cindy Lou Johnson

Rosannah Deluce: Jen Brown

Henry Harry: Andrew Varenhorst

Director: Susie Gidseg

Stage Manager: Dawn Humphrey

Light Design: Chris Kelley

Sound Design: Jen Brown

Set Design: Dawn Humphrey

Light Board Op: Courtney DeGinder

House Managers: Jenny Jemison & Nicole Perez

The Play:

Entering the cozy theater City Theater (hidden on Airport and 38 ½ St., but worth the search) we see a tall, thin, bearded man, Henry Harry (played by Andrew Varenhorst) moping about a rudimentary and cold cabin. Such is the pre-show, which works nicely as the character neither demands nor implies much of anything. People come in, sit, and talk, quickly registering this performance and move on with their own lives, waiting for the “real” play to start.

And when it does, this essentially one-act play starts soon after Varenhorst falls asleep on his cot. Lights go down and up to full, and after some loud knocks at the door we hear the voice of Rosanna Deluce (played by Jen Brown) demanding to be let in.

She pushes herself in, revealing a dirty woman wearing smudged wedding gown. Brown has a very long monologue establishing the setting (present-day, nowhere Alaska, her car broke-down, cold and snow, etc.). Spying a bottle of whiskey Brown does a nice bit by spilling and wiping it off the table into her glass. Finishing off shows her good commitment (and provokes a nice audience response).

Of course this loud soliloquy wakes Varenhorst, but he doesn’t say anything. Only when the manic Brown, who’s been driving for days straight, complains of a pain and faints does Varenhorst stir from his cot, where he tenderly puts her in his bed and cleans her up.

Brown stirs during her long sleep, saying something about being the prettiest girl in the room before falling back into slumber.

The rest (and vast majority--seventy minutes) of the play is the conversation the man and the woman have once she wakes up from her two-day slumber.

Since I prefer to see a play without preconceptions, I was thinking this was going to be a light romantic comedy about two neurotic people akin to “The Good-bye People” by Herb Gardner. But nope, not this play.

Their neuroses get more and more severe. And what appears to be two barely functional asylum escapees trying to interact like civilized people slowly reveal themselves as two people facing stressful pasts in poor ways. This comes about by wave after wave of the characters raging at each other, punctuated by troughs of sadness where they reveal geneses of their rage.

Sound tiresome? it is! But there is a moment of lightness just past the half-way point about the girl’s prospective new name after her marriage. It gets a great laugh more because the play needs this respite. But pretty quickly the play gets back to its business and continues to hit the same note on the piano until the end, where all their secrets are finally revealed.

Analysis:

This form, the slice-of-life play, is very difficult to pull off (see the failure of my previous review). The writer (Johnson) at least gives us some characters to bond with. And they are nice characters with just enough meat for actors to have fun with.

But I kept thinking as this was unfolding that I would have much preferred two people on the edge of insanity trying desperately not to fall off the brink into madness, despite the efforts of the other. It would have been a more interesting play, as “Brilliant Traces”, by explaining way too much takes the pedestrian turn.

Sure the reveals are there and provide some satisfaction. But these reveals are really pushed very hard (the characters constantly bate each other to tell them what they’re really hiding, even when such an explanation does not make sense). And furthermore, the reveals come out as rather trite and simple, making the characters look like weak fools for going so far overboard about such common traumas.

I must ask: why does Henry respond to his daughter’s death by abandoning all people? Why does Rosannah’s father’s Alzheimer’s cause her to run away?

This play does not supply any answers. And that would be fine, except that the rest of this play is all about supplying answers. And it’s this philosophical inconsistency that’s the crux of what keeps “Brilliant Traces” down in the brack with the tons of mucky plays written each year.

The acting was passable. While Varenhorst had wonderful timing (loved how he answered Brown’s questions before she finished them) and looked the sad loser quite well, his rage/wins left much to be desired. They seemed forced, lacking a concrete anchor to push from.

Brown’s performance went from big to small relatively well, occasionally creating nice pictures with her choices.

But both actors rarely deviated from a simple first reading of the script. They played their characters exactly as written, and little more. Failing to fill the gaps Brown and Varenhorst miss the tremendous opportunity of rescuing this play.

Here’s some off-the-cuff ideas:

Jen Brown, try playing your character like she’s been working as a stripper for the past twelve years. You’re an addict, street-wise, and prone to fits of rage about how much you hate your life. The man you were engaged to is the first man you’ve ever dated who you didn’t meet while naked, and you love him like a saint. Part of the reason you left him is to keep him from finding out what a horrible person deep down you really are. Your dad’s illness is merely the last straw that sent you into a drug/alcohol/driving bender. Now try playing the part.

Andrew Varenhorst, your character is all about self-punishment. A devout Catholic before his daughter’s death, he is now a fanatic member of Opus Dei, regularly flogging himself every night. He tries to spend every second of his life praying, because only while in direct contact with God does his pain abate. Consequently, he is tremendously upset with the girl’s arrival, but since he can’t hurt himself in her presence, he can at least lash out at her.

Okay, it took me five minutes to come up with these character portrayals, both vastly richer than what I saw played.

Susie Gidseg directed this play. What happened? How could you let these fairly talented actors get away with simple on-the-nose performances? Shame on you!

The blocking/staging worked for the most part, but I would have preferred seeing much more interpretation. Have the actors DO SOMETHING while fighting with each other. What does Henry do all day when he doesn’t have a strange woman to argue with?

Oh yeah, as my friend pointed out, “...they alternate waves of rage and grief at each other. Too bad they didn’t have a deck of cards.” This is precisely what a director has to anticipate and correct, even if you have to re-write sections. (I’d especially like to see half the references to the burned shoes cut, the joke got old long before we kept hearing it.)

Tech:

The lighting (by Chris Kelly) did its job: light the actors. And that’s all. Pretty boring, actually; the only apparent lighting change came through the use of the master dimmer. But if you consider that the play moved between two theaters, I’m can certainly cut some slack.

The sound (Jen Brown) was fine: neither intrusive or memorable. Same can be said for the costumes and the single set (Dawn Humphrey). Didn’t notice any tech glitches at all.

Summary:

If I had known that this play was about two different ways of exhibiting grief, I probably would have braced myself more. Having experienced its ravages personally, I now think grief is a form of vanity, a self-indulgence that’s only possible when the world around allows it to fester. A much more interesting topic would have been how the modern world infantilize people, allowing them to wallow in grief without ever waking up from its addictive trance. But that’s another play.

This play, for all its faults, works at the novice level of community theater. The good performance of amateur actors and crew is noted. And hopefully they will find a script with a much better narrative arc. I look forward to their next production, hoping this play increases their talents and raises the bar for future productions.

"Rainbow Family of the Serendipitous Now" or "The Orpheus Project"

!!!SPOILER WARNING!!!

“Rainbow Family of the Serendipitous Now”

or

“The Orpheus Project”

by

the St. Idiot Collective

Performance on August 16, 2007

Written by Adrienne Dawes

Directed by Jeffery Mills

Sound Design: Jason Newman

Scenic Design: Chase Staggs

Lighting Design: Natalie George

Costume Design: Leigh Fisher

Production Mgr: Dani Pruitt

Stage Mgr: Sean Jenkins

Asst. Stage Mgr: Jess Akin

While the audience takes its seats, “Don’t Pass Me By”, one of the few Beatles songs written and sung by Ringo Starr plays on the PA system. Normally this would be taken as light irony as this semi-country song is probably the worst number the Beatles ever produced. But unfortunately “Don’t Pass Me By” sets the stage for an abysmally weak production by a normally talented group.

This awkwardly and not fun titled play (with innapropriate references to the Greek myth of Orpheus) from the St. Idiot Collective, is clearly an idea in search of a play. I think. I’ve spent the past few days trying to figure it out, but have finally given up. At best, it’s simply a treatment, and a very poor one at that.

What we got is a hippyish emperor with no clothes. I don’t care how pretentious you are about your play, I’m calling you out: this hour and twenty minute thing had no substance; it was just naked. And not in a good way, mind you!

The pre-show, while the audience enters and sits, is more than just a few songs played on speakers. On stage right and near the seating entrance is a small elevated platform. Kudos to Chase Staggs for doing a very good job on this, one of the three small sets of the whole production. The six-foot high platform is adorned with various items, including a few digital clocks blinking 12:00, topped by a few tasteful practical lights and sports a couple of very nasty looking spikes (not used in the play).

Kristin Malko, who plays Time according to the program, stands on the small platform. Dressed in white wedding dress and enormously pregnant, she stands in a trance and rotates clockwork-like to the music.

The production starts formally with an all-American young man, Tex (played by Brent Werzner), making a speech directly to the audience. He tells us that the time is somewhere in the sixties or early seventies, and he’s heading out to California where he wants to see all the cool and far-out stuff he heard of on TV. It’s all very on-the-nose background information, so you’d suppose it’s essential to the story as the writer (Adrienne Dawes) included this speech instead of having these vital details crop up as characters interact.

But you’d be wrong. There’s nothing in this introductory speech that’s relevant at all. And the director, Jeffery Mills, makes a major boo-boo by not nixing this speech altogether. But don’t give him much grief over this error as it’s nothing compared to the rest of Mills’ short-comings in this production.

Straight from this bizarrely on-the-nose speech we follow Tex and see the rest of the cast running around quickly. He bumps into Shorty Shea (Christopher Shea) who fills us in with even more background information. It’s another amateurishly on-the-nose conversation telling us that hippies live on this ranch. Oh yeah, he tells us not once, but three times that the girl hippies are all witches. Important? nah. Yet another detail that has no relevance whatsoever later on.

After a slightly provocative dance with junior-high drill team choreography (performed by Jenny Larson, Adriene Mishler, and Odile Nicole), Tex joins the hippies. Let’s meet them!

The followers are all conveniently named after a color, corresponding to their unimaginatively simple costumes (designed by Leigh Fisher). These characters--cough cough. Pardon me. I shouldn’t use that term as none are fleshed out enough to really deserve to be called characters, so I’ll call them “colors.” This represents the lack of depth nicely.

Uh, these “colors” are played enthusiastically enough (except for Clem/Yellow played by Adam Sorenson--clearly hired for his guitar playing in this opening hippie scene instead of his acting ability). But their level of commitment is at best only 80%, which is achieved only periodically by Jenny Larson (Sadie/Violet). The other people playing the colored hippies are lucky to be at 60% commitment.

But even with this low level of commitment, it’s a shame that none of them could think of interesting tacts to take. Except for the obviously gay Pink hippie (played by David Higgins), there was little to distinguish them from each other than the color of their clothing. And when Tex becomes one of them, transforming into Orange, he too loses any definition. And we loose a protagonist as his character completely fades into just another color.

The leader of the hippies, Father, is performed by Robert Pierson. He tries to channel Wulf Zendik, but has less than one-tenth the charisma and none of the intellectual substance. The script does give him a bit of babbly gibberish, but not enough to make an effective statement either for or against this type of charismatic cult leader.

That said, I have to admit that Pierson’s presence was sorely missed when his character disappears just past half-way through the production. Compared to the rest of the crew, he really did stand out.

During an acid trip by the hippies, Father takes it upon himself to abandon his colorful children to find his mother. And who is she? why it’s that woman in white who’s been standing over to the right since the pre-show: Time. Duh!

I must quickly digress a bit and compliment Father’s exit. The reverse birth was a cheap bit, but it still looked very nice. Good job on being effectively frugal, Staggs and Natalie George (lighting design)!

Despite being warned not to follow their Father, they go ahead and follow them anyway. Gee, Dad, don’t you think that warnings given to people in the middle of an acid trip might not carry much weight? Sigh. And into the birth canal everyone goes, with much screaming and running around, yawn.

From here on, the production ostensibly takes place in hell, but I can only deduce that from the sub-title. This consists of mostly following the colorful hippies as they run and dance to ridiculously loud music and sound effects. This mundane and tediously long section has a brief respite by the reappearance of Christopher Shea as a zombie biker with a taste for Green, the “cute one.” He does a passable job, but fails to become really gross, excessive, funny, or even interesting. It’s just in comparison with the rest of this section does he stand out.

Finally we catch up to Father as he knocks on Time’s door. He has a conversation with Miss Time--nah, I’m pulling your leg; it’s just babble. However, Father fails to use his knife, presumably because he can’t get in. But since there isn’t even a visible door, his inability to ingress must simply be taken on faith.

By this time the colorful group catches up with father, having lost a couple (pink and yellow, the most interesting ones as they are the only with tag-lines. Pink is gay and yellow is scrambled!) on their journey. Father hands three of them his knife to finish the job, inexplicably not including Blue in the murder conspiracy.

So after coaxing the pregnant Time off her platform the three remaining colors kill her.

The End.

So that’s the story. Really! Yup, a guy joins some hippies, they track their leader into hell where they kill Time, the end. That’s it! And that’s the crux of the problem: this is NOT A PLAY! At best, it’s just a slice-of-life story of a fantastical nature. But the slice is not an interesting one, it does not reveal much about the nature of anything I can think of, nor does it have any pleasing aspects. The fantastic aspects are few, far-between, unnecessary, and boring. Sigh.

No arc. No characters. No metaphors. No irony. Not even nihilistic references, so the philosophy of nothing doesn’t even enter the picture.

Now I could sit here and type about what a waste of time that Dawes wrote, but I can’t lay all the blame on her.

By far the greater guilty party is Mills who agreed to direct this mock of a play and the St. Idiot Collective for not insisting on higher quality writing. This, firmly, is where the culpability lies.

Writers love their writings like mothers love their children, unconditionally and blindly. But the production should have the dispassion of distance, the ability to say, “No,” to a poor work. “If we can’t get a good play, we won’t do one at all.” If production companies in Austin would simply adopt this slogan, it would instantly raise the level of live theater an order of magnitude.

But hey, Jeffery, you’re not out of the woods yet! You just started your crime spree by using Dawes’ script. While choosing a bad play is the worst thing a director can do, I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out other excruciating problems with your directing.

The blocking was about the level of a college freshman/sophomore. For the most part, the actors moved to a spot, did their stuff, and then faded back as another actor did their thing. There was very little simultaneity. And even though it would have made sense (and been more visually interesting) for some of the actors, especially Father, to move around maniacally, you had them lock into their places. Please give the audience a break. If you’re limiting the actors’ movements, at least give us more to look at (better sets, multiple things happening at once, etc.).

Speaking of movement, the dancing was nice. But again, very amateurish. For help, just watch Milos Forman’s amazing adaptation of “Hair” (which this play obviously aspires to--very odd as the live theatrical version is pretty damn boring). And while you’re watching this, note how the actors, even Treat Williams, really REALLY will do anything for their performances. That is commitment. And if you’re going to do that script, nothing short of 100% commitment from the actors can possibly make it worth watching.

But if the actors give that much, you had better have something for them to do. And the truth is, Jeffery Mills, you don’t. Limp ideas come forth about once every ten minutes in this production. So by the time one comes out, the audience is so desperate the say to themselves, “Wow, those sneaking silhouettes looks really cool.” But the truth is, it looks cool only in comparison to the dribble that they’ve been looking at for a while.

The staging was pretty much the same: no creativity, very little effort, and predictable. I could tell when the actors were going to crossover to the other side. You have an enormous stage, why not use it?

Lighting? it was passable for the most part. Good moments were the birth canal and a nice bit where the colored hippies had colored head lights. George did a fair job of simple and predictable lighting.

Now all these things that I mentioned above just made for a bad production. While it’s a drag to waste your time sitting around through these things, it’s just that: a drag. The next part is truly a problem: sound.

The well-placed and well-made sound effects and music covered a great many ills: poor acting, idiotic writing, novice directing, and simple dancing. But the music was so intrusive that I frequently could not hear the actors, and at the mid-point I had to get up and leave during the play to get earplugs! Yes, the music and sound effects were that loud. And now, several hours later, my ears are still ringing.

And more so about sound. Rarely does mixing live music with pre-recorded music work. This production is a clear example of this maxim. I would suggest all the sound be done live, either by a live band or by performers off-stage. Done well it would mesh and enhance the hippyish ways of the main characters. A little tasteful reverb can be added as you did with Time’s voice, but even that can be simulated without over-amplification.

Technically, the performance was fine. I didn’t notice any missed cues or tech errors (other than the volume as noted before) at all. Good job to the managers!

Finally, I realized that there is an unintended irony to “Don’t Pass Me By.” Despite the song’s plead, you most definitely should pass by this play. Do not stop and look, just go, go, go!

How

Now comes the hard part, but I'll try to make it concise. Just how are my reviews to be structured? I can vent my opinions over and over, but as the saying goes: like assholes we all have an opinion.

Who cares what my opinion is? What worth is it?

Good questions, and very apropo. Instead of just spewing my opinion, I will try to

1. Describe the production and the people involved.

2. Point out where the production adheres to or deviates from expectations.

3. And try to promote alternate directions and choices the production could have gone.

These are notions derived from the writings of Leonard Meyer, who specializes in the philosophy of modern musical critiques. I'll add narrative structural analysis to his method since modern music rarely has a story or even meaning.

And I will add emotional reactions. Without at least some opinion, these reviews would be as dry and boring as reading Meyer's books. And I don't want to subject you to that onerous task!

Occasionally, I will be so elated, angered, or aghast by what I am reviewing, that I'll deviate significantly from these lofty goals. I apologize in advance, and expect to be called on by your comments to keep me in line (or just to add your voice to the chorus and simply disagree/agree).

And if you don't like what I say, then do the ultimate revenge: make your next production so good it melts my heart and brings hot tears across my face!

Looking forward to it!

Introduction

Welcome. Instead of telling about me now, I'll be adding personal details as relevant. And I must say that I have no meaningful connection with any Austin theater companies (a fairly complete list can be found here). And I definitely do not have any affiliation with the Austin Chronicle nor the Austin American Statesman, the two main papers of Austin with theatrical reviews.

I've been thinking of doing something like this for many years. Austin has a strangely thriving theatrical community. Lots of people with lots of energy and talent put together a great many shows year-round. I applaud each and everyone person, for doing such work is vastly more difficult than almost any non-theater person can imagine.

But Austin has a problem in its theater community. It started a long time ago and has only gotten worse in the passing decades. And it's this: Austin theater sucks.

There are many reasons for this, but chief amongst them is a general acceptance of sub-par work. That is the purpose of this blog, to raise the bar. Without honest and conscientious criticism, Austin's theater community has sunk to a small group of people slapping each other on the backs with congratulations for plays that drive the main-stream person away to watch reality TV.

When a play is produced with no threat of real criticism, the crew stops striving. And when you set your sites low, you're bound to hit your target and accomplish what will be at best a mediocre production.

So while my tone may come off as harsh and angry (yep, I'm often very angry when forced to sit through three hours of abysmally bad work), ultimately I'm striving to make the theatrical world in Austin a better place. And when it becomes better, then you'll stop lamenting about how hard it is to get people to come and see your play!