OSF | Dangerous Common Sense

“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

Snow in Midsummer

Ashland, Oregon
at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival

Snow in Midsummer

By Frances Ya-Chu Cowhig
Based on the Play The Injustice to Dou Yi That Moved Heaven and Earth
by Guan Hanqing

Directed by Justin Audibert

Snow in Midsummer may be the best production of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival season. It certainly is the best production most likely to be overlooked by old-chestnut-seeking, casual theater goers.

One reason Snow is a candidate for audience neglect is that it’s a new play that hasn’t been vetted by Broadway. Another reason is that the publicity for Snow makes it sound intellectual and good-for-you. You learn that it’s an adaptation of an ancient and traditional Chinese story, clearly on the OSF playlist to further diversity and expand the cultural horizons of the audience, and its all-Asian cast sets off my pandering alarm bells.

But even before the curtain goes up, you start to realize your assumptions were wrong. Snow is modern, engaging story. Instead of what I feared, stylized Chinese Theatre from the 1200’s (the time when the original playwright lived), we are dealing with people in a very modern setting, magic, pollution, and, most importantly, an incredibly tight mystery complete with a important ghost and up-to-date social commentary.

Jessica Ko. Photo by Jenny Graham.

The problem with talking about details of the story, even the general plot, is that the writing is incredibly, rewardingly tight. Not only does the gun shown in Act I get fired before the end of the play, a toothpick that is shown onstage in Act I is also used before the final curtain.

So, I cannot say too much about the characters or action without sharing the knowledge I had acquired by the end of the play.

It’s hard to banally mention the toothpick without calling it the mass-murdering implement it becomes in Act II.

Well, there are no toothpicks in Snow. But the complexity of the characters and plot are real. And, satisfying. Surprising. Obvious. Meaningful.

The simple story is of a factory town in modern China that is suffering from a three-year drought. The current factory owner, Handsome Zhang, (Daisuke Tsuji) plans on selling the factory to Tianyun (Amy Kim Waschke) who arrives in town on an inspection trip with her young daughter, Fei-fei (Olivia Pham). Just before Tianyun makes her entrance at the village watering hole run by Mother Cai (Nastsuo Ohama), Handsome uses the venue to propose marriage to his long-time boyfriend, Rocket Wu (Will Dao). Plans are interrupted by Dou Yi (Jessica Ko), the ghost of a woman wronged by the town.

That description doesn’t sound engaging. It certainly does not match the captivating and exciting real-life two-plus hours of theater. The playwright, director, and cast have managed to take the drab-sounding outline and use it like a Russian doll with layers and layers of additional meaning and connection. Each scene goes deeper into the town and people. Revelation after revelation hits you, each feeling inevitable as soon as they are shown. The story deepens, characters add dimensions and change.

Snow in Midsummer masthead photo from OSF

Román Zaragoza, Jessica Ko, Olivia Pham, Amy Kim Waschke, Moses Villarama.
Photo by Jenny Graham.

World-class acting is one of the reasons Snow works so well. Five major roles are filled flawlessly.

Jessica Ko as Dou Yi flows between simple storytelling and fantasy scenes, sometimes mid sentence. She is contained and on track every moment. She is also delightful in the stage-setting, opening-curtain interaction with the audience. At that point we don’t know who she is, but the extra moments at the start with her reinforce the goodness of her character.

Will Dao has similar mastery over his this-life and next-life moments as Rocket Wu. In earlier moments, he makes believable the effects of a ghost on his terran-world physical body, all the while sharing with the audience his character’s nature and strengths. Later on stage, he is a perfect balance of eatherial and the practical, with some comedy thrown in. And, this leaves out his first moments as a focused, but somewhat shallow, enthusiastic fiancee.

The complementary dichotomies keep on coming!

Head of Ox being repaired in the Production Shop

The riskiest writing in Snow was giving much of the action and revelatory dialog to the Fei-fei, a grade school student. Frankly, I would never have the guts to hand so much of my play to such a young person. How OSF found Olivia Pham for that role and integrated the first-time actor so well is a stroke of luck/skill/something wonderful.

Pham is perfect. Neither precocious nor silly, this kid plays a kid extremely well. Believable and clear. And, that is a good thing because she has critical dialogue and carries key scenes.

As the new factory owner and Fei-fei’s mother, Amy Kim Waschke, creates her own magic by masterfully revealing layers of her character. Her tightly wound portrayal righteously adds tension as her words also move the story along. An excellent performance.

The fifth major player, Daisuke Tsuji’s Handsome, is just as wonderful as the other top characters. Again, we are shown his outside doll early on and then learn more and more and more as the play goes on. Tsuji’s Handsome is a control monster throughout the play, and we keep learning through his final scene just how intent he is on controlling everything around him.

Although the parts are not as big as the Big Five, other cast members have created real gems of personality and importance. Two deserve special call-outs: Christopher Jean in dual roles as Dr. Lu and Judge Wu well exemplified a/im-moral authority. I also loved Moses Villarama’s worried officer who gave us some needed relief from personality-less bureaucracy.

Monique Holt’s appearance as a deaf Worker Chen caused the creation of a town-specific sign language that is used when she is in a scene. That’s a nice creative thought, and Holt’s presence and the signing helps us see the unfolding story in yet another way.

I am tempted to declare writer Frances Ya-Chu Cowhig the real hero of the play because all of the elements of an compelling story are present, deep, and taughtly delivered. The play was woven, not written. Director Justin Audibert had a clear and focused vision of the complex narrative which maximized the seamlessness of the action.

Crafts excelled, too. Especially Scenic Designer Laura Jellinek’s mood-setting dry open spaces that switched quickly to anxious paranormal spots or hot expanses of execution. The heaps of dead crickets, including loose ones sprinkled on the ground, were exquisite! I think we heard those crickets dying and lots of other truly mood-enhancing background noises created by Sound Designer Paul James Prendergast. You don’t want to invite him to DJ your next upbeat party, but you do want him to work on your next stage production.

The second time I saw Snow, I saw and understood more. Even more dolls were exposed than I saw my first watching. Over and over I heard details of the mystery that were pointed to up front but which I went right by me on my initial viewing. I kept smacking my head, asking, “You didn’t pick up on that? Why else would have THIS happened if it didn’t mean that THAT was going to happen in Act II?” Don’t you do smack your head yourself when you reread a superb mystery?

The real reason to see of Snow in Midsummer is that it is a deep story brilliantly constructed. The mystery and the ghost aspects make tale stronger than your average moralistic classic! Snow benefits from all the its traditional high-brow lineage, the creative team’s diversity, and clear ethical teaching moment. And, Snow’s skilled storytelling executed so well by the onstage talent and crafts, overcomes its weighty pedigree.

Snow in Midsummer winds up being great fun.

Play rating:

By Galen|2018-09-07T19:55:21-07:00September 7, 2018|osf, plays|0 Comments

Vietgone

San Francisco, CA
at the American Conservatory Theater, Strand Theater
Extended through April 29, 2018

Vietgone

by Qui Nguyen
directed by Jaime Castañeda

ACT advertising Vietgone as “The irreverent road-trip comedy” is almost sacrilegious. The categorization misses the depth, power, and cultural importance of this newish play.

Anyone selling Vietgone as a mindless-sounding comedy rode the momentary surface story, ignoring the characters, context, and important human issue that makes Vietgone truly memorable. The strength of Vietgone is its suburb writing which hits the mark in storytelling, characterization, pace, and perspective.

The playwright character (Jomar Tagatac) comes on stage in the opening scene to assure the audience that this show is not about his parents. Then we watch his mother and father flee Vietnam at the fall of Saigon, meet in a refugee camp, and adapt in their own, very different ways.

The excellence of Vietgone is how we learn about the people. Writing too much about the surface narrative would be as bad as passing the play off a “road-trip comedy” in an ad. But, let’s explain the “road trip”.

We meet the hero Quang (James Seol) in Saigon where he is a pilot for the South Vietnamese army. Quang and his sidekick, named only “Asian Guy” (Stephen Hu), fly a helicopter load of desperate people onto an American aircraft carrier as Saigon falls. Quang and Asian Guy think they will return to the mainland to find and evacuate Quang’s wife and children in a quick, follow-on rescue flight. That rescue doesn’t happen, and the men wind up being transported on the carrier to America and being sent to a refugee camp in Arkansas. Once there, Quang meets Tong (Jenelle Chu) and Tong’s mother (Cindy Im). There’s chemistry between Quang and Tong, but he is focused on the family he left behind. After some time Quang and the Asian Guy set out on a motorcycle for Camp Pendleton in California so that Quang can demand to be transported back to Vietnam and reunited with his wife and kids.

The play shifts back and forth in time and location a lot. We see Quang and the Asian Guy on the motorcycle heading from Arkansas to California fairly early in the play, and they have scenes which reflect on their refugee/new to America status. These road-trip moments are revelatory about the characters and about America. They are important, insightful, and often very comedic.

But, the same categorization is true for all of the scenes, not just the ones on the motorcycle. There are tremendously funny, and simultaneously meaningful, moments at the refugee camp and earlier in Vietnam. Vietgone is not a road trip, it’s a people trip.

It’s particularly a refugee trip, a stranger-in-a-strange-land trip, a trip down Prejudice Lane… and not only from the perspective of our heros being discriminated against, but also letting the Vietnamese characters remember their own prejudices.

There are so many flashes of revelation and memory. The characters’ pain of being cut off from their homeland and having to deal with American Supremacy hit me especially hard because of the LGBT refugees and asylum seekers I know from my church’s Guardian Group. The assumption of the wrongness of the US involvement in Vietnam re-immersed me in my high-school/college moral self righteousness. And, the unconscious homogeneity of white America into the 1970’s was striking to recall… and also made extremely funny when the Vietnamese characters talk among themselves about how Americans all think that they are Chinese because Americans think all Asians are Chinese. The kicker is that the Vietnamese characters admit that back home in Saigon they discriminated against people from China and now everyone they meet thinks that they are Chinese themselves.

I am afraid you need to see the play to understand how funny and human this scenario — and the rest of play — are.

The real-life playwright, Nguyen, reportedly loves rap music and fight scenes. He apparently also loves filthy language. These are all things that I generally don’t want to see or hear. Usually I find them cheap devices to appear young or cool, or ways to fill out the two-hours in the theater. Each of them is on target in Vietgone. They make the storytelling more authentic.

The final scene between the playwright and Quan, the helicopter pilot and NOT the playwright’s father, is a worth a trip to the theater on its own. You need the context of the previous two hours’ “road trip”, but the power of this set-in-the-modern-day coda is extreme. If you are close to my age, your college-age moral superiority will be reeling.

Vietgone the play is a complete 5-star, standing ovation, forcing-you-outside-your-comfort-zone, thinking outside-of-the-box piece of art.

ACT’s production is definitely an excellent theater experience. Unfortunately, the director’s and artistic team’s choices made the afternoon less moving than the version we saw in Ashland in 2016 at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

Here’s why:

Apparently each production develops the musical accompaniment for the rap scenes. At ACT, there is loudish, somewhat melodic music behind the words which distracted from their power. At OSF I don’t remember any music, although I have been assured that it was there. But, in Ashland, the rhythm and cadence of the words ruled, and the scenes were somehow, but definitely, more commanding.
All actors except for those playing Quang and Tong have multiple roles and the flawless switching among the identities made the five-person cast seem much larger in Ashland. But, at ACT it doesn’t work so seamlessly. The first multiple character, Jomar Tagatac as the Playwright, has a distinctive beard. That unique-looking fur reappears in all of his roles, forcing us to willingly suspend our disbelief. If I were the director I would have picked another actor or made Tagatac cut the thing off!
One of my favorite scenes is a fight between the good guys (the Vietnamese) and the bad guys (American bikers). When I saw it originally it was beautifully, humorously, outrageously staged in stylized broadness. It was a wonderful moment of family lore made real in front of you. It was just another one-minute scene at ACT. All the parts and lines were there, but it was sped through. ACT really ran over a show stopping moment.
The actors at ACT were excellent. I especially liked James Seol’s Quang. But, except for Seol, I felt that the Ashland actors were clearly better. More energetic? More involved? Better looking? (I feel cheap saying this, but, yes. At least in a couple cases.)

Overall, ACT’s casting choices, sound design, and directing don’t let Vietgone be as perfect as it was in Ashland. It’s still very, very well worth seeing. But, ACT’s Vietgone is just excellent and not transformative.

Play rating:

By Galen|2018-04-03T10:22:49-07:00April 2, 2018|plays|0 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

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