Play and Counterplay

Interesting theatre experience yesterday: I caught a matinee of Enchanted April at Circle and then went straight to The Building Stage's Master Builder, which I had grabbed a ticket to late last week. It was very much a yin and yang Sunday -- Enchanted April is a great production with solid performances and more or less everything required is firmly in place. But it's absolute (ladies, you'll have to pardon the term) chick-lit theatre piffle. As vacuous a show as vacuous can be. Master Builder seemed very skeletal and was quite muddled at times, but obviously had some ideas and, dare I say, entrails to it. Something was being mined from Ibsen as we watched. It didn't always come out cleanly, but clean isn't exactly how mining works.

So which was better? And how do you even compare the two? Circle had consistency on their side, but never moved beyond consistent. More than once The Building Stage lost my interest, but the select moments that they did strike gold, they struck gold hard. Were I stuck, like most critics, to a strict rating system, they probably would have gotten the same amount of stars, but that seems completely inadequate.

I think the biggest question it raises in my mind is whether, when I buy a ticket, I am paying for a finished product or for a peek at a product being discovered. I think I'm prone to the second, personally. I am most attracted, as creator and audience both, to a Cassavetes style of approach, in which everyone involved in the show knows from the outset what exactly is going to happen, but how it's going to happen is bound to bring new discoveries, and the best approach is to allow your self to work within and alongside those discoveries. I'll take a finished product, no doubt, but there's some doubly exciting about knowing that what is taking place on stage is happening because it's happening, not because the performers are making it happen.

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My further plumbing of thoughts on As Told by the Vivian Girls has been postponed. Last Thursday, I tried to gamble with Time and Time, assisted by Rush Hour Traffic owned my ass. So I've done some more calendar switching and will be seeing the show for the second time on this Thursday instead. Further commentary will ensue.

Speaking of which, I am tremendously excited about this weekend's schedule. Because everything and its mother is closing on the 25th, it's my second weekend of insane scheduling before easing into a little more relaxed pace. But I'm knocking off a large chunk of my must-see list this week and am looking to be knocked off my feet more than once. Tomorrow night is WNEP's RAW, Wednesday is opening night of Nunsense at the Marriott (you read that correctly -- it's kinda amazing what comp tickets and a friend in the show will get me out to), Thursday is my encore performance of Dog and Pony's As Told by the Vivian Girls, Friday is THE current hot ticket Chicago show -- The Hypocrites' Our Town, Saturday is a double feature of American Theatre Company's much-lauded Speech and Debate and Redmoon's Boneyard Prayer (my first Redmoon experience; for shame, I know). And closing it out on Sunday night is Pavement Group's Lipstick Traces.

It's a motley crew, and I'm pumped.

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Sad epilogue: Robert Rauschenberg passes away and the world barely bats an eye. I don't know what I was expecting, but I'm saddened nonetheless.

P.Rekk
2008

Revelation!

Go see As Told by the Vivian Girls. It closes on the 25th, and odds are you're going to want to see it more than once, so go see it soon. I'll go more in depth on Monday or Tuesday during my weekend wrapup, but this show needs to be seen.

Tonight is the only night that me and my roommate could both make it, so Die! Mommie, Die! has been postponed and I'll be having an encore performance of As Told by the Vivian Girls this evening instead. If anyone else wants to join us, this is the sort of show I'd love to be able to chat about afterwards.

I'm serious. Drop whatever plans you have and go see As Told by the Vivian Girls. You'll thank me. You'll thank Dog and Pony even more.

Also, because apparently one free day is one free day too many, I've also picked up a ticket for Circle's Enchanted April on Sunday. Whee, suburbs.

Go see As Told by the Vivian Girls!

P.Rekk
2008

Scattered thoughts

First, random philosophizing:

How art has destroyed science, example 1:

Newton's apple fell unavoidably. Gravity was born.

Magritte's apple shall never fall. Gravity was defeated.

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Second, theatregoing extravaganza:

As everyone spitter-spats about how and how in depth and with what tone we discuss other artist's work, I've decided to only mention revelations I see onstage or have as a result of what I see onstage. First revelation: I need to read me some more Durrenmatt. Play Strindberg is a devastating script.

I am going to keep online tabs on my upcoming show intake, though, partially as another form of day planner for my needs and partially because I'm one of those people who almost regularly ends up going to shows alone. So hey, if anyone's going to happen to be (or would like to be) at anything when I happen to be there, feel free to let me know -- I like theatre buddies, too! So, in my neverending rage against the neverending storm of shows to see, I'm squeezing in four this week: Dog and Pony's As Told by the Vivian Girls on Wednesday, Hell in a Handbag's Die! Mommie, Die! on Thursday, Infamous Commonwealth's Lewis and Clark Reach the Euphrates on Friday, and Vitalist's A Passage to India on Saturday. And if you think that's eclectic, just wait until next week...

I may also, depending largely on when I get out of and how I feel after Lewis and Clark, join some friends at Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind. It is in shame that I say (much like being a cinephile who hadn't see any of the Godfather trilogy until post-college) that in my going on three years in the Windy City, three years spent championing underground, indie-style, what can we do that people still haven't seen type theatre, I have yet to step foot in the Neofuturarium. I hang my head in shame. We'll see if I can fix that this weekend.

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Third, the big news! (*confetti and noisemakers drop from the ceiling*):

I (under the shady auspices of Bries Vannon) have been graciously offered and have humbly accepted a spot as an Artistic Associate with Signal Ensemble Theatre. This weekend I was talking to a friend who recently began work on a jaw-droppingly amazing show opportunity, and she mentioned that it feels weird to even talk about it, as if it might disappear if it becomes too tangible. I know exactly what she's talking about. I almost didn't even share the news on here, opting to wait until everything's properly integrated and the new news is actually old hat. It's like I'm holding a secret and I can't be sure it actually exists because if I share it, it won't be a secret anymore. So if I am no longer an Artistic Associate tomorrow, blog-friends, you will be holding all of the blame.

Honestly, I truly truly truly couldn't be more excited. Between Faster, Per Diem, and now Signal, this is shaping up to be a touchstone year in the life. As much as I love you, blog peeps, and as much as I love mah Per Diem boys, and as much as I love other things like puppy dogs and pound cake, the guys and gals at Signal are my true Chicago family, and I never realized this more until the night they asked me to be a part of them. Two and a half years ago they took a chance on casting some random gangly blond kid who was brand new to the city and the city hasn't quite been the same since.

But enough mushy stuff. Let's make some fukkin' art!

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UPDATE:

Rest in peace, Robert. The world will reflect a little less without you.

P.Rekk
2008

I'll keep repeating it if I have to...

If you're not destroying, you can't create. If you're not creating, you can't destroy.

And by the same token, if you are destroying, you are also creating. If you're creating, you are also destroying.

The point is not to reconcile the creation and the destruction or find a happy medium between them. The point is simply to be aware of both simultaneously.

P.Rekk
2008

The Sound and The Fury

Creation through destruction and destruction through creation, blogosphere.

Creation through destruction and destruction through creation.

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Other notes: I've taken it upon myself to see much, much, much more theatre than I have been as of late. I've realized that my image of myself has transitioned from pawn in the Chicago theatrical scene to someone with an active voice in whatever direction it may be headed at any moment. And I need to take way more in to truly keep an eye on that barometer. This weekend I'm playing catch up with On My Parents' One Hundredth Wedding Anniversary at the side project and Play Strindberg and The Secret Agent by Organic Theatre, and the rest of May is already more or less booked. I know I won't be writing about everything I see, and I may not write about anything I see -- I have no interest in reviewing, but I also have great interest in my own opinions. We'll see what comes about.

Also, I have a wonderful piece of news to share, but I can't do so until next week. So there -- I taunt you with the prospect of congratulating me -- but for what? The world may never know. Until sometime next week, that is.

P.Rekk
2008

Requisite Jeff Awards post

Big congrats to Stephen Ptacek for his nod for Faster's Sound Design. Personally, I think he also deserved a second category all his own: Best Sound Design That Will Make You Shit Yourself And Question Your Very Safety. Y'all know what I'm talking about.

And, since I have no shame about showing my blatant biases, a few congrats to friends, colleagues, or simply people I think deserve the recognition:

- Signal Ensemble Theatre, for rocking the joint with their seven nods (5 for 1776, 2 for Old Wicked Songs)

- Joel Stanley Huff for his supporting role in Tesla's Letters (I didn't get to see it, unfortunately, but Joel's a stand-up guy and I have no doubt he was amazing.)

- Grant Sabin's scenic design for Mr. Marmalade (didn't see this one either, but if Grant's not gonna get one for his beauty of a creepy set for Faster, he more than deserves to be there for something)

Yay, recognizing excellence!

P.Rekk
2008

Critiquing the Critics, a guest spot.

I'm not entirely enamored with Tony Adams' "Critiquing the Critics" project, but I do agree with holding criticism to standard as much as criticism is trying to hold theatre to a standard. And since Tony is otherwise engaged and has temporarily suspended the project, I feel the need to step up and address what appears to me to be a critical injustice in Tom Williams' recent Not Recommended review of 18: A Year With Footnotes, penned by Michael Burgan.

In the interest of full disclosure, Michael Burgan is a friend of mine and I have seen the show. However, the injustice I perceive is not because I am friends with Michael, or even because the show is Not Recommended -- the show certainly has its problems, Michael Leslie's performance being a large chunk of them -- but Williams's position as a critic demands a degree of accuracy and reason that I fail to see in this review.

Jean Cocteau, in his preface to The Eiffel Tower Wedding Party, wrote, speaking of new work:

"[Critics] forget that they are at a performance which must be followed as attentively as a "popular success." They think that they are watching a sort of street carnival. A conscientious critic who would never think of writing, "The Duchess kisses the Steward" instead of "The Steward presents a letter to the Duchess" in his review of one of these "legitimate" dramas, will not hesitate, reviewing Wedding Party, to make the Bicycle Girl or the Collector come out of the camera - which is absurd enough."

While I am a friend of Michael's, I met him since I have moved to Chicago. Prior to seeing this show, I knew as little about the past presented in 18 as Tom Williams did. Yet, reading through the review, I can point out a number of factual errors in the plot, from simple timeline errors to shortchanging an entire lovely and complex relationship by referring to Jaime as "the only girl he knows" -- a ridiculous statement for anyone who has ever been 18.

Now, I understand that you only get one go around and it is impossible to get a show's plot down word for word. Mistakes are bound to happen. And in an instance such as Faster, for example, where it wasn't uncommon to have a review refer to the play as set in Chicago or an unnamed suburb (it was very specifically Joliet) or referring incorrectly to my character as the older of two brothers, I can understand the mix-ups. The play doesn't revolve around these facts and if you miss an expository line or two in an already fast moving show, you've lost your one chance to get them straight.

But this is an autobiographical one man show. There's no weird elliptical plot structure going on, no spiderweb of interlocking character studies, no red herrings or MacGuffins. It's a straightforward story of the events in this man's life. Meaning getting the events straight is pretty important. Compound this with the fact that the glut of almost all of Williams' reviews consists of him retelling the plot in detail and it becomes very important. Compound this with the fact that this is a self-produced one-man show running off nights in one of the smallest venues in the city, meaning the show will get zero press and that even a review on chicagocritic.com is a big deal, and suddenly it becomes essential that Williams provide a portrayal consistent with the show being produced.

But questionable accuracy is one thing; questionable reason is a whole new ballgame. From Williams' review:

"Burgan’s life story doesn’t contain enough compelling events to sustain a 90 minute play."

Those events, as listed in Williams review, include: a near fatal sledding accident, skipping Senior Prom to drop acid with "the only girl he knows", virginity-driven suicidal thoughts in Venice, a sexual relationship and eventual marriage to his high school teacher, a stint as a roadie for a rock group, and his friend ("the only girl he knows") self-destructing into a whirlwind of drugs. Now, I ask any playwright in the blogosphere, because I know there are many: given an outline of the above events, do you feel you could create a compelling 90 minute play? And a question for the entire class: How many 90 minute (and longer) plays have been sustained by less?

If Williams doesn't find the play compelling, that's perfectly valid. But I shudder to find the person who's life story doesn't contain enough compelling events to sustain a 90 minute play. Or the audience who judges the value of the story by the extremity of the events therein (and has a bar set as high as Tom).

And that closing line? I don't have the time or energy to deconstruct the term "vanity project" and how it at once applies to all and no theatre, but suffice it to say that anything being called a vanity project on chicagocritic.com smacks of deep, deep irony.

I don't know if Michael will read this or not, but for the sake of honesty, it's not an amazing production. The acting is limp and, as will be the case with small self-produced one man shows, the staging is bare-boned in a less than appealing way. But it is an bracingly honest show, and the words, if not always played compellingly, are much more often than not grounded in a stark emotional nudity -- a nudity at times gleeful and others shameful -- which is always compelling no matter the story being told.

Working on Tom's scale, I would probably only give is a Somewhat Recommended. I can understand a critic giving it a Not Recommended. But in doing so, especially when the critic is likely the only outside authority available to a potential audience and one who only tends to give out a small percentage of Not Recommended ratings, the critic needs to be able to represent the show, not the scribblings on his notepad after. Not an easy task and not one I envy -- I much prefer my opinion to a representative one. But that's why I don't pretend to be a critic so much as just plain opinionated.

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Unrelated offshoot:

Despite not, as of yet, having a Don Nigro convo with Ronan (and now Slay), I have continued delving, as I am wont to do. Anima Mundi utilized a formal tarot element that I had been toying with myself and contained some beautiful moments towards the conclusion, but was all in all much less inspiring than Ardy or Armitage. But Glamorgan is treating me well and starting to fully set in place Nigro's stylistic and thematic leanings and why they are clicking with me (and some I wouldn't have expected to click with me.)

Rockin' dude, that. I'm definitely on a kick.

P.Rekk
2008