“Bring Down the House, Part II”

by William Shakespeare
adapted by Rosa Joshi and Kate Wisniewski
directed by Rosa Joshi

Ashland, OR
at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

Bring Down the House, Part One: Ensemble. Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.
Bring Down the House, Part One (no photos yet posted for Part Two)
Ensemble. Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

Through a scheduling snafu I missed the opening of Bring Down the House, Part I and took up the Henry VI story halfway through. Because co-adapters Rosa Joshi and Kate Wisniewski have done such a good job of curating scenes and speeches, I fell right into the story, despite the potentially confusing rush of characters and battles.

I had a fun time watching the alliances among the red rose and white rose nobles. I enjoyed the progressive terminal weakness of Henry (Betsy Schwarz) and the frustration of his queen, Margaret (Vilma Silva). York (Catherine Castellanos), Edward (Brooke Parks), and Warwick (Kate Wisniewski) grab the story, move it forward — or switch it up — with decisiveness and clarity.

I confess that the crispness of the story line has gone from my mind in the two weeks since I saw the production, but at the time it was crystal clear who was doing what to whom and why. There was a terrible, logical march of activity. The characters and action were the cleanest I’ve seen in a Henry VI.

The set design by Sara Ryung Clement helped. Unlike the convoluted, endlessly plotting plot that only a contemporary of Shakespeare would instinctively understand, the stage for Henry VI is both simple and helpful. The design is mostly bare which allows the performers to describe the events, react, and act without distraction. There is way more than enough opportunity for confusion in the play without having competition from busy scenery.

Even more helpful, the family tree of the protagonists was written on the floor. Throughout the show you could glance and visually check the various relationships being discussed. At some points, the actors added more family boxes in chalk to emphasize the family complexities. The approach is novel and brilliant.

The worst aspect of Bring Down the House, Parts I and II is the unfathomable decision to change the title from Henry VI. Changing the title falsely conveys the idea that this production changes Shakespeare’s language or story. It doesn’t.

It’s common for directors to “adapt” Henry VI‘s three parts into just two. Moreover, productions of Shakespeare nearly always have cuts and maybe even some reordering of scenes. Cutting and reordering is what was done by Joshi and Wisniewski for Bring Down the House. They did it extremely well. BUT, the words and plot are pure Will.

I have heard some people wonder if they could count Bring Down the House as part of the canon. I hesitated buying a ticket myself because I am not sure I want to see Shakespeare rewritten. All of this worry is unnecessary. Bring Down the House IS Henry VI.

The other concern for traditionalists is the casting. All of the actors are female or non-binary.

“That decision had a double purpose: to serve the social justice mission of [the adaptors’] company, upstart crow collective, which is to open up opportunities on the stage for non-binary and women actors; and, simultaneously, to underscore the plays’ depictions of gender in ways that would resonate with a modern audience,” explains OSF’s blog post “Adapting to Change“.

Regardless of their gender, the actors play their parts strongly and traditionally.

My quibble is that the public deliberateness of a gender-bending cast violates Checkhov’s gun rule: “If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired. Otherwise don’t put it there.”

But, ultimately, traditionalists can again relax. The cast is superior, Shakespeare’s text and intent is unmolested, and the Yorks and the Lancasters tear down their houses quite thoroughly.

My one wish is that Joshi had shortened the choreographed battle scenes. They are over-styled and go on too long. Her Henry V had the same problem. We don’t need to see the horrors of war so slowly and eloquently displayed.

But overall, Bring Down the House, Part II is an engrossing study of flawed characters unable to stop themselves from destroying their families. This OSF production is powerful and memorable.

Ozdachs rating:
4 1/2 out of 5 Syntaxes

By |2020-03-22T15:35:08-07:00March 21, 2020|osf, plays|0 Comments

“Between Two Knees”

Ashland, OR
at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

After trying for a month to moderate my initial reaction to the show, I admit failure. So, I reluctantly tell you, “Run! Turn your tickets back!! Seeing Between Two Knees is a waste.”

The “play” is a two-act, juvenile, mental-masturbation orgy of insult humor written without wit and performed without inspiration. It feels unedited, unworkshopped, and unrehearsed, OSF protestations to the contrary notwithstanding.

About the cleverest thing about Knees is how it inoculated itself against criticism by suggesting that any complaints directed toward it are based on white fragility, insensitivity, or worse. Aside from this self-vaccination against disapproval, there is nothing else ingenious, thought-provoking, entertaining, or otherwise worthwhile about the show.

The comedy and underlying serious topics are presented with slapstick, 7th grade obviousness.

This is typical:

Between Two Knees (2019): Justin Gauthier (Larry). Photo by Jenny Graham.
Between Two Knees (2019): Justin Gauthier (Larry). Photo by Jenny Graham.

Yuk, yuk…. yuk.

More than anything else, Knees feels like a series of amateur vignettes presented together with a flimsy, white-people-cause-problems theme. There’s a not-so-subtle implication that if you don’t laugh and applaud at the stupidity on stage, then it’s because you’re white and insulted. It’s not because you didn’t like 7th grade humor when you were 12 years old, and it hasn’t grown on you since.

This was workshopped, revised, and refined? With actors? With writers? With anyone connected with a theater? Really? I want to see the workshop’s attendance sheet.

The 1491’s, an “intertribal Indigenous sketch comedy troupe”, is credited as the playwrights of the show. But, the performance feels like an improv show (a low-brow, dumb improv show) more than a play. That impression is strengthened by the flubbed lines, hesitant delivery, and breaking out of character that are the artistic hallmarks of this OSF American Revolutions co-commission.

But, I really don’t want to spend too much effort talking about the performance. After all, comments on a show should not take more effort than the creation of the dismal work that’s being commented on, right?

Between Two Knees is in the bottom 2 or 3 shows we’ve ever seen at OSF. If it were the worst (still Family Album) at least it could be proud of something. As it is, it is merely avoidable dreck.

Ozdachs rating:
0 out of 5 Syntaxes -- TERRIBLE!

By |2019-06-08T06:50:23-07:00May 18, 2019|osf, plays|0 Comments

“Mother Road” at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

World Premiere

by Octavio Solis
directed by Bill Rauch

Ashland, OR
at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

Mark Murphey (William Joad), Tony Sancho (Martín Jodes). Photo by Jenny Graham.
Mark Murphey (William Joad), Tony Sancho (Martín Jodes)
Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

My subconscious has delayed my writing comments about Ashland’s Mother Road. I saw it opening night in early March, but I haven’t felt like it was time to write about the play. Not when I first saw it. Not when I got back home and had a chance to think about it. Not ever.

The problem is that I want to construct an enthusiastic collection of comments that matches the applause the audience — including me — gave opening night. And, I can’t. The importance of the story, the crafts, and the acting are all wonderful. But, the sum of the parts is greater than the whole.

The Ensemble of Mother Road. Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.
The Ensemble of Mother Road
Photo by Jenny Graham, OSF.
Click on the photo for a larger version

The play does a reverse trip across “Mother Road”, Route 66, from the one John Steinbeck wrote about in 1939. This 80-years-later family story migrates the last surviving Joad back from California to the homestead in Oklahoma.

The Last of the Joads is Martin Jodes (Tony Sancho) whose Oklahoma ancestors wound up marrying into a Hispanic family and changing the spelling of their surname.

The play starts off with the penultimate Joad, William, (Mark Murphey) arriving in California from Oklahoma to meet Martin who has been identified by William’s attorney (Jeffrey King) as the family’s only living heir. White, white William has to be reassured by his attorney that DNA itself has confirmed the certainty of brown Martin’s kinship.

William is old and ill, and had set his lawyer on the quest to find a relative so that William could fulfill his promise to his mother that he’d keep the now-considerable Oklahoma farm in the biological family. William and Martin don’t exactly hit it off, but William persuades Martin to come back to the farm so he can take it over when William dies.

Tony Sancho (Martín Jodes) abd Mark Murphey (William Joad), Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.
Tony Sancho (Martín Jodes) and Mark Murphey (William Joad)
Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

William and Martin start driving back to Oklahoma. We spend the rest of 2 1/2+ hours learning more about our two principals, meeting important people in Martin’s and William’s lives, adding some/most of these people to the car trip, and journeying back to OK.

We are treated to some truly great scenes between Murphey and Sancho. Murphey’s cranky Okie fits, and reminded me that Murphey was also perfect as Cassius. And, as the story goes on, he mellows and deepens in front of our eyes. His flashback interaction with his mother was brilliant.

Sancho is even richer in his scenes. He not only plays off Murphey, but also shines in revelatory moments with his friends and when acting out against injustice.

Tony Sancho (Martín Jodes), Amy Lizardo (Mo), Mark Murphey (William Joad), Cedric Lamar (James). Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.
Tony Sancho (Martín Jodes), Amy Lizardo (Mo), Mark Murphey (William Joad),
Cedric Lamar (James). Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

I feel like I should single out each actor for applause. In addition to the cast already mentioned, Cedric Lamar, Armando Durán, Catherine Castellanos, Amy Lizardo, Caro Zeller, and Fidel Gomez deserve raves. The actors were flawless.

Christopher Acebo’s set was simple, non-distracting, and appropriate. Perfect. The same kudos to Projection Designer Kaitlyn Pietras, Lighting Designer Pablo Santiago, and Composer and Sound Designer Paul James Prendergast.

All wonderful.

But, folks! There isn’t a moment when you even suspect an ending different from the one that shows up on stage.

The additional characters and stories are interesting and enriching, but not surprising or threatening or changing. If I was more literate, I suspect that some/all of them might mirror parts of Steinbeck. That would make them even more inventive/deep/something.

But, as good as the storytelling craft is — and it’s very good! — Mother Road doesn’t get me to connect. It feels a bit too structured, and a bit too pat.

Ozdachs rating:
4 out of 5 Syntaxes

By |2019-04-14T15:47:57-07:00April 14, 2019|osf, plays|0 Comments

“Hairspray” at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

Hairspray

created and written by John Waters
book by Thomas Meehan and Mark O’Donnell
music by Marc Shaiman
directed by Christopher Liam Moore

Ashland, OR
at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

Hairspray production banner from OSF

Prepare to smile, laugh, feel good, applaud, and appreciate an uplifting story sung and danced into your heart by a strong, beautiful, coordinated cast. Get ready for a perfect production of a archetypal feel-good big musical.

Beyond the summary above, everything else is just dreary supporting detail.

The story has a socially marginalized fat girl scoring a position on a TV dance show that is a bastion of white privilege and teenage snottiness. She and her black friends break barriers and win the hearts of the hottest boys… and of the audience.

Hairspray Ensemble. Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.
Ensemble. Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

This OSF musical entertains, explains, and engages flawlessly. Director Christopher Liam Moore has created a unified, lively show that is excellent fun. Friends who have seen many productions, including on Broadway, said that this production was the best they’ve seen.

Everyone in the cast shines. I am especially happy to see veteran and returning Ashland actors sing and dance so well. Greta Oglesby (Motormouth Maybelle) is back!… in a moving, show-stopping way. We know the strong talent of Jonathan Luke Stevens (Link Larkin) and Eddy Lopez (Corny Collins) from large musical roles in prior years. And, K.T. Vogt (Prudy Pingleton), Daniel Parker (Edna Turnblad), Brent Hinckley (Harriman F. Spritzer), Chritian Bufford (Seaweed Stubbs), and David Kelly (Wilbur Turnblad) have been characters in earlier OSF musical productions — some of them meaty. Did I know that Kate Mulligan (Velma) has so much musical talent? I do now.

Greta Oglesby (Motormouth Maybelle) and David Kelly (Wilbur Turnblad). Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.
Greta Oglesby (Motormouth Maybelle) and David Kelly (Wilbur Turnblad).
Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

The new-to-OSF performers are also incredibly talented. My favorite, no surprise, is Katy Geraghty (Tracy Turnblad) who amazes with her hot, heavy moves. She amply fills the starring role!

The crafts supporting the cast created a coherent, comfortable, over-the-top collage of activity. The set is simple, but happily garish. It complements the too-much (but just right for this show) costumes. Just look (and click on the picture to see a larger version… if your eyes can handle it):

Ensemble. Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.
Ensemble. Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

All-in-all Hairspray is a flawless, feel-good musical romp. I have no suggestions for improvement — I believe OSF’s production delivers everything possible from the show!

Now, I don’t think you leave the theater changed. The “everyone’s included in our dance party” feels uplifting, but it’s mainstream snowflake propaganda that doesn’t deliver any revelations. Hairspray is a musical version of Green Book — a white-written, cross-racial, happy buddy story.

Still, the OSF production fulfills all the promises of the show. The writing, music, and execution are definitely on the top of the happy-musical genre. Everyone leaves the theater cherry, signing, and smiling. Hairspray deserves its standing ovation.

Ozdachs rating:
5 out of 5 Syntaxes

By |2019-03-29T14:40:40-07:00March 29, 2019|osf, plays|0 Comments

“Cambodian Rock Band” at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

Cambodian Rock Band

by Lauren Yee
directed by Chay Yew

Ashland, OR
at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

Cambodian Rock Band (2019): Daisuke Tsuji (Duch). Photo by Jenny Graham.
Photo by Jenny Graham.

Understanding your parents and their motivations is a difficult and uncomfortable act for most of us humans. In Cambodian Rock Band it’s an impossible task for first-generation American Neary (played by Brooke Ishibashi) whose Cambodian-born parents don’t talk much about the pre-USA times. Neary, a thoroughly American young adult, has decided to go to Phnom Penh and work with NGOs to bring to justice people who helped the Khmer Rouge. She’s gathering evidence against the superintendent of S21, a notorious killing prison, when her father (Chum, played by Joe Ngo) suddenly arrives at her door. The father has not returned to Cambodia since immigrating to America, Neary cannot admit to her father that she has a boyfriend much less talk to him about her work, he cannot clearly explain his presence, and soon we go back to 1975 before the Phnom Penh fell to the Khmer Rouge and an American style rock band is rehearsing and recording.

We’re accompanied/sent into our adventure by Duch (Daisuke Tsuji), a hyper-friendly, hyper-athletic, hyper-active tour guide.

Our initial moments of time traveling don’t reveal too much. I am not even sure we understand which actor is playing a 1975 version of themselves and which actor is playing a completely different character.

We learn that western rock is very popular in Cambodia and watch a tape being made. The band members are aware of the communist uprising and the rebels’ hatred for western trappings. But, the band confident that the Khmer Rouge will not take the capital because America is defending it.

Daisuke Tsuji (Duch).
Photo by Jenny Graham

In the same scene, Phnom Penh radio reports that USA troops have abruptly left the country. The Khmer Rouge take over and quickly begin killing anyone with a college degree, intellectuals, … and musicians.

Joe Ngo (Chum), Brooke Ishibashi (Sothea), Jane Lui (Pou), Abraham Kim (Rom), Moses Villarama (Leng). Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.
The Cambodian Rock Band Learns the Americans Have Left
Joe Ngo (Chum), Brooke Ishibashi (Sothea), Jane Lui (Pou), Abraham Kim (Rom), Moses Villarama (Leng). Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

The main course begins: we start watching members of the Cambodian rock band in the years of the Khmer Rouge terror.

Spoiler alert (but, how else could it be?): Chum/Dad was a member of the rock band, and part of his reluctance to talk to Neary about the old days stems from the fall of Phnom Penh and time spent in Prison S21, the institution run by the man she is building a case against.

The centering on the rock band to tell the story of immigrant Cambodian parents and their first-generation daughter is a brilliant way to get at the culture and chaos of the pre- and post-Khmer times.

We learn so much — too much — about the horror that Pol Pot’s regime brought to the people. When I am reminded that the Khmer Rouge killed 2 or 3 million people, I am appalled. But, when I see what happened to individual people — and the action happens 20 feet away from where I am sitting — I feel the fear, anger, and grief. The trite truism is made real: there are more victims than those who were killed.

CRB is rich with involved, impossible, inevitable, implausible contradictions. An insidious, captivating aspect of this play is its sudden reversals. One moment you watch a character you know being tortured — pretty graphically. The next moment you’re celebrating an relationship breakthrough. You find yourself up and dancing with the resurrected rock band with tears still in your eyes.

You are happy about a reunion of characters, and then you find yourself wanting one of them to die. You don’t feel good about this, either.

Brooke Ishibashi (Neary), Joe Ngo (Chum). Photo by Jenny Graham.

The action is painful, but you find yourself wanting for the audience — and the daughter — to see more. You’re repulsed by the action and yet you’re indefensibly emotionally satisfied by learning additional details about a character.

And, unlike some other fine plays I saw opening weekend, I was never comfortable that I knew what the ending was going to be before it arrived. I didn’t feel the inevitability of either happiness or sadness as the play progressed.

All of which is to say that Lauren Yee has created an excellent story and has delivered it skillfully.

The impact of the show is increased because of the flawless cast. Most of the actors are musicians, so the Cambodian rock band’s Dengue Fever music is preformed live, on stage, right there.

More importantly, each cast member delivers an inspired, completely right, nuanced performance. Applause to Director Chay Yew: whenever all players are perfect, there is damn fine director sharing his or her vision. Yew created a seamless production and he got his actors to on board.

I still don’t understand how Ngo consistently made his character lose 30 years when he left a 2019-based scene with his daughter and went back and took his youthful place in the rock band. I swear I saw gray in his hair when he was dad, standing just 20 feet from my seat. But, when he walked another 20 feet to take his place with the youthful band, there was no gray visible. How did he do that? Was it a trick by lighting designer David Weiner? Some magic happened.

Equally impossible was the gymnastic flexibility of Tsuji. His jumping and taunting clears a path for the audience to immerse itself in the story. But, then he looks slight and unimposing in other scenes. Another chameleon.

Moses Villarama plays both a modern Ted and an historical Leng so differently that you don’t remember him from the other role. As Leng he brings complete conflicted depth to the character. I am not sure many actors could make Leng so right.

Speaking of just right, that’s also the set in the three-sided configuration in the Thomas Theater. Thanks to Scenic Designer Takeshi Kata and Assistant Scenic Designer Se Hyun Oh. Most of the action occurs on ground level which expands and contracts depending how far out the step-up rock band stage comes out. A few pieces of furniture set the scenes and the background blends the stage together. But, the design is minimal, rightfully allowing the audience to watch the characters and action without visual distractions.

Joe Ngo (Chum), Brooke Ishibashi (Sothea), Abraham Kim (Rom), Jane Lui (Pou), Moses Villarama (Leng). Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.
Joe Ngo (Chum), Brooke Ishibashi (Sothea), Abraham Kim (Rom), Jane Lui (Pou), Moses Villarama (Leng). Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

Sara Ryung Clement, Costume Designer, created appropriate looks for very different people and times, and the actors changed clothing often on stage without disrupting the mood or pace. And, her 1970’s band costumes were a kick, especially the scarf thing that winds up in S21.

Just everything in and about CRB is quality, and it was my favorite of opening weekend. Yee acknowledges intergenerational differences and highlights how daughter and dad don’t communicate. She lets old country/new country mores clash in her characters. But, the clashing is done with love, if sometimes frustrated love. The audience is drawn into the lives of every character: the young, the old, the well meaning, and the moral horror. All are honored. Excellent!

Ozdachs rating:
5 out of 5 Syntaxes

By |2019-12-29T11:03:39-08:00March 22, 2019|osf, plays|0 Comments
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