Oregon Shakespeare Festival | Dangerous Common Sense

“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.

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.

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

“As You Like It” at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

As You Like It

by William Shakespeare
directed by Rosa Joshi

Ashland, OR
at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

As You Like It covershot — As You Like It (2019): Román Zaragoza (Orlando), Jessica Ko (Rosalind). Photo by Jenny Graham.

At the very least yet another romp through Arden Forest should be enjoyable fun. Done with artistry, a director can use this comedy to make Shakespeare seem like a feminist. After all, the freedom to love will win out and the women’s decisions share the shaping of action in Arden Forest. At least I think they do.

On the other hand, the current Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s offering didn’t even amuse me. The show is both scattered and heavy handed; it’s a supreme waste of obvious acting talent. A week after seeing it I remember some of the characters’ actions, but I never fell into the story and I never felt the production came together.

Director Rosa Joshi made some curious decisions.

The quirk that hits you from the start is the too-long, too-stylized, fascist marching in a maze pattern that the cast does in the initial scenes. Whenever it starts, the movement goes on for relatively forever. Unfortunately I was too stupid to appreciate the significance of the torturous walks that keep the play from having any momentum. So, I just watched the onstage drilling with, ahhh… bewildered patience. (I was later informed that the militaristic procession showed how rigid court life was under the new duke and could be contrasted with the life leaping in Arden Forest. Silly me for not picking this up.)

I assume that Christine Tschirgi, the costume designer, was just following orders when she created the ugly upholstery that the court characters had to wear. The shapes of the clothes the actors wore had nothing to do with the people in them. In any event they had the visual appeal of your grandmother’s heavy, sun-blocking curtains.

As You Like It (2019): Rex Young (Touchstone), Hannah Fawcett (Lady to Rosalind), Kate Hurster (Celia), Jessica Ko (Rosalind). Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival. — Rex Young (Touchstone), Hannah Fawcett (Lady to Rosalind), Kate Hurster (Celia), Jessica Ko (Rosalind). Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

But, it goes beyond symbolic touches that didn’t work. The casting was confusing, and not in fun, new-twist-on-an-old-play way. Rachel Crowl (Duke Senior) , the good guy that is banished to Arden Forest by Kevin Kenerly (Duke Frederick) , is played by a woman who is made up to look — and acts — younger than the usurper. I truly had a hard time getting my mind around the fact that the younger-appearing actor on stage was the senior character in the play.

Next, Crowl is a woman and the director honored her sex by altering the lines to use the construction, “The Duke, she…” when referring to her character. Maybe this was supposed to be extra good fun in a play about a female dressing as a male, but, ugh. It didn’t feel fun to me.

I am an advocate of Love is Love is Love. But, when the play itself keys off the confusion of sexual identity and resolves when the natural (sic) order is restored, adding a layer of in-your-face sexual ambiguity that is not resolved at curtain time is unhelpful. It stands in virtual opposition to the plot of Shakespeare’s play. It’s a bad directorial choice.

Basically, I don’t like trying to figure out what part of the identities we are supposed to notice and what part we should ignore as “color-blind casting”. That goes for skin color-blind casting and sex color-blind casting. Confusion has its limits as an artistic tactic.

The distracting marching, the off-putting clothes, the muddled casting, and general disarray is a failure of direction. It’s a hot mess.

On the other hand, all of the actors are excellent. There are many wonderful moments between characters, or scenes where the actors do it just right.

Crowl’s singing is wonderful. The bare-chested flexing of James Ryen was downright artistic, and I liked the contrasting scale of the flexing of the bare-chested Román Zaragoza.

As You Like It (2019): Román Zaragoza (Orlando de Boys), Kevin Kenerly (Duke Frederic, center), James Ryen (Charles), Ensemble. Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival. — Román Zaragoza (Orlando de Boys), Kevin Kenerly (Duke Frederic, center), James Ryen (Charles), Ensemble. Photo by Jenny Graham, Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

Jessica Ko’s Roslind is excellent. Kenerly is perfect, and Rex Young (Touchstone) delivers some very, very fine scenes. Still the play fails.

One of my theater companions chronically suggests that I shouldn’t judge a performance on opening night. She says that the actors are nervous and more prone to errors. The company will develop more chemistry as the run goes on, she explains. And, that’s what she says about the opening night production we saw of As You Like It. She’s too kind.

The actors give us some quality moments. Unfortunately, the moments don’t work together. There isn’t a vision for the production that’s clear, and certainly not one that’s compelling.

This year’s As You Like It is a miss that earns its 3 stars for actors’ individual performances.

Ozdachs rating:
Ozdachs Rating: 3 Syntaxes

By Galen|2019-03-28T20:41:42-07:00March 16, 2019|plays|3 Comments

“Manahatta” at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

Ashland, Oregon
at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

Manahatta

by Mary Kathryn Nagle
directed by Laurie Woolery

Steven Flores, Rainbow Dickerson, Sheila Tousey, Tanis Parenteau. Photo by Jenny Graham.

Steven Flores, Rainbow Dickerson, Sheila Tousey, Tanis Parenteau. ,br />Photo by Jenny Graham.

This world-premiere production tells the story of the poor treatment of Native American people by Imperialistic white “settlers”, brillianty weaves together narratives four centuries apart, and gives us a satisfying understanding of how the actions taken in 1626 reverberate in today’s America. Manahatta deals with themes similar to the also-world-premiere The Way the Mountain Moved , but Manahatta did it right, engaging the audience instead of giving a sermon to it.

Manahatta is about people who, of course, are informed by the world events they’re experiencing. The actors play two roles, one from the 17th Century and in from the 21st Century. The roles are somewhat reflective each other: Jeffrey King’s powerful white guy (Peter Minuit) from 1626 is contrasted to his powerfalling white guy (Dick Fuld) in 2008 while Tanis Parenteau’s Native American maid (Le-le-wa’-you) is paired with the 2008 savvy Jane Snake. And, other cast members have similar double roles.

The play exploits the different types of interaction between the sets of characters. The more innocent and mostly more moral American folk both keep/rediscover their traditions and also partly incorporate the European aggressive immorality into their souls.

Or, something like that. Trying to describe why Manahatta works so well kills the reason it’s special.

Manahatta delivers stories through people. The stories mesh, play off each other, and let the audience go “Aha!” They illustrate sides of our country which are not so wonderful, but which are integral to who/what we are.

You’re drawn into thinking about the nation’s history because of the interesting characters you’re following on stage instead of being beaten over the head by pointed convoluted plotlines or didactic dialogue (a la The Way the Mountain Moved).

Jeff King plays two historical characters. Peter Minuit is a businessman/colonial governor who buys Manhattan from the indigenous people for trinkets. King’s second role is Dick Fauld, the Chairman and CEO of Lehman Brothers when it went bankrupt in 2008. He interacts with Parenteua’s characters in both centuries. In the 1600’s he is the conquering/demanding White Man dominating Le-le-wa’-you and Native Americans. In 2008, King’s character’s downfall and exit is assisted by his savvy Native American protege, Jane Snake.

There’s no “Got you, you son of a bitch” feel to the switch in fortunes. Rather, there is a feeling of maturity and coming to rightful power in Snake’s actions. The relationship between the pairs of characters matures and evens, but the raw nastiness of the initial imbalance lingers in your mind.

The cast is perfect. King and Parenteua set the standard for clear, natural time shifting. With the leads — and all of the players — you quickly realize which time period the character is in, and how their lines blend/contrast/complement the words last spoken by their doppleganger. While there are significant costume differences between the periods, I don’t remember looking at them as clues for which role the actor was in. I always knew which person I was seeing on stage.

Steven Flores, Tanis Parenteau.
Photo by Jenny Graham.

Another factor that makes the play so powerful is that the actors know that their roles are connected in some way, but they are different people. It’s not just the 400 years between the parts. Each character had a different background, different culture to react to, different motivation. They don’t think or act alike. But, still, you’re seeing a dominant European man deal with a younger Native American woman in moments separated by 400 years.

The set by scenic designer Mariana Sanchez completes the magic to let the play work. Relative sparse stage, background images that can change, and absurdly subtle props (like a single potted tulip) lets the time slip back and forth without stumbling over heavy scene changes or delays. Her work is a great fit.

Ultimately what makes the dual-role acting so strong, makes time travel both understandable and correct, and makes the little things like the potted tulips possible is the script by Mary Kathryn Nagle and the direction by Laurie Woolery.

Manahatta tells the stories of 400 years of interactions between peoples of different powers and cultures. The play doesn’t blink, but it also doesn’t preach. Instead, through storytelling Manahatta helps you see the America and part of its history differently. You leave talking about the perspectives to your seatmates, people at the bar, and to your friends at the B&B next morning.

The writer and director deserve their own standing ovation.

Play rating:

By Galen|2018-09-29T16:49:34-07:00September 29, 2018|osf, plays|2 Comments

Henry V

Ashland, Oregon
at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

Henry V

Ensemble as Chorus. Photo by Jenny Graham.

by William Shakespeare
directed by Rosa Joshi

Daniel José Molina (Henry V) and other cast members deliver many truly spectacular moments — especially in Act II — which make this Henry a must see. Unfortunately, Director Rosa Joshi’s choices diminish the impact of the play itself and leaves the audience to appreciate master-class acting set in a confusion of activity.

I think the audience is supposed to [endlessly] appreciate the turmoil and indiscriminate horrors of the machine of war. Toward that end, actors push stacks of boxes across the stage mimicking siege engines or walls or something. In fact, the before play opens members of the cast are twisting a changing pile of boxes around and around upstage. I’m sure it’s meaningful. But, the only thought these leaden-looking props give me is that the director has seen too many Transformer movies.

To add to the disorder, the actors play multiple roles, sometimes up to 6 or 7, if you count “Chorus” and “Ensemble” separately. The differences among the actors’ personas seems deliberately vague as if to remind us how similar to each other all sides in a conflict are. The problem, of course, is that Shakespeare had a plot going, and it was hard for me at times to tell who/which person or which side was doing was doing what. If the actor had a hat on he was an English low-life, without it he might be a French noble. Grrr!

Chaos on Stage: Jessica Ko, Kimberly Scott, Robert Vincent Frank, Shaun Taylor-Corbett. Photo by Jenny Graham.

The effect of the chaos is distraction, not drama. I was horrified to hear the rousing, “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more” go by like a throw-away line, losing the competition for attention to some random movement, yelling, or flash bang device going off.

Act I starts off well with an interesting delivery of Chorus’ “O for a Muse of fire…” I also appreciated the early court scene where Henry tries to ensure the righteousness of his going to war. Very nice, deliberate acting. But, then the plot becomes secondary to the motion on stage for the remainder of the act, save for one show-stopping moment.

G Valmont Thomas

The actors and audience take a collective breath when Pistol (Kimberly Scott) announces, “Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead.”

Last year’s Falstaff, well known and well liked actor, G. Valmont Thomas, died last December. This Festival season is dedicated to his memory, and many of the Henry V cast worked with him as Falstaff in Henry IV parts 1 and 2. Pistol’s line stopped hearts throughout the theater for it was too true.

Act II cruised along uneventfully until Molina started interacting with individual characters. My daydreaming was first interrupted when Henry confronts his old friend Bardolph, played by Robert Vincent Frank. Bardolph has been caught misbehaving and was brought to his buddy Hal for adjudication. The lines stopped and the two men looked into each other’s eyes, the damning transaction completed wordlessly. Henry follows through with Shakespeare’s narration, but the sentence, appeal, and rejection were all done by the eyes. Both men communicated completely without a sound.

From that scene on, we are treated to excellent vignettes, usually involving Molina. Henry’s wandering in disguise among his troops, picking up their mood, works well. The battle scenes blur but Henry’s humanity away from the overwrought staging is mesmerizing. Even the courtship scene with the French princess (Jessica Ko) gives a tenderness that avoids any disempowering smirk of politics.

As littered with scene gems as Act II is, the power of Shakespeare never reigns. There is always too much activity and too much “who is that again?”

This Henry V showcases Daniel José Molina. His acting has improved from flawed in his first OSF seasons to artistry in this starring role. It’s very worth seeing.

Daniel José Molina as Henry V. OSF photo.

I am glad the director allowed Molina and the other actors time and space to deliver their performances. I just wish she had given Shakespeare and his story the same courtesy.

Play rating:

By Galen|2018-03-05T20:02:55-08:00March 5, 2018|osf, plays|1 Comment

Sense and Sensibility

Ashland, Oregon
at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

Sense and Sensibility

Ensemble. Photo by Jenny Graham.

by Jane Austen
adapted by Kate Hamill
directed by Hana S. Sharif

This “updated adaption” is, in fact, a completely uninspired snoozefest of outdated manners humor unworthy of the acting talent and craft workers it wastes.

We went into the performance expecting that S&S would be a frothy comedy. But, maybe our expectations were raised too high by the thought that it had been adapted to be more modern.

But, whatever. It was not amusing enough to create a bubble of happiness, much less froth.

If you get off on zingers skewing the social scene of 207 years ago, this play is for you. Otherwise, go see Destiny of Desire instead.

Trite, self-importantly funny, endlessly overwrought and over exposed. If I didn’t keep nodding off during the performance I would come up with a longer list of pejoratives to describe the show.

The actors did well. They played their stereotypes with bravado. Go archetypical twerps! The costumes were over-the-top costumes. Perfect. The set the same. I will refrain from naming any the wasted artists — I don’t want them to Google their names and find this comments — they have to perform in this underwhelming lump through October.

There just is nothing to recommend this S&S. It isn’t even bad enough to walk out on. It’s just blah.

I am especially disappointed because I very much like what Director Hana S. Sharif said about her approach to theater and her craft when she talked on a panel opening weekend. She was all about the importance of people and having theater relate to the audience. I just wish I’d seen some of that connection in the play.

Still, I unhappily predict that S&S will be a popular, money-making crowd pleaser. It offends no one. White Bread audiences will find it a comfortable, non-challenging relief to the complex shows that plague OSF’s theaters. The only sex on stage is the stylized romantic courting of 1811, something that even conservative school groups can mmmm… embrace.

For me, although I wouldn’t walk out on it, I’d recommend that you turn back your tickets.

Play rating:

By Galen|2018-03-04T18:35:29-08:00March 3, 2018|osf, plays|1 Comment