"MASS"

Theatre review
"MASS" at Cornell's Schwartz Center
Ithaca Times
March 11, 2009
641 words
"Theatrical Synergy"

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Theatrical Synergy

Mark Tedeschi

"MASS," music by Leonard Bernstein, text from the liturgy of the Roman Mass, with additional texts by Stephen Schwartz and Leonard Bernstein. Directed by David Feldshuh, musical direction by Scott Tucker. Starring Dominic Inferrera and featuring over 100 performers from Cornell and the Ithaca area. With projection design by Marilyn Rivchin, choreography by Joyce Morgenroth and Christine Olivier, scenic design by Ken Goetz, costume design by Sarah E. Bernstein, lighting design by E.D. Intemann and Ford Sellers, and sound design by Warren Cross.

When Leonard Bernstein's "MASS" premiered in 1971, it carried the subtitle "A Theatre Piece for Singers, Players, and Dancers." It was clear, with such a decisive title, that the ambitious piece should be finely calibrated in performance. Despite the demanding properties of "MASS," Cornell University's Department of Theatre, Film, & Dance - in collaboration with the Department of Music - has designed a full-throttle production rife with unique and credible artistic supplements.

Leonard Bernstein was a prolific, multitalented composer and musician who conceived of "MASS" by a commission from Jackie Kennedy for the opening of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. The structure of "MASS" mimics that of the preeminent Roman Catholic liturgy at the time and contains some modern critical commentaries on faith and piety. Naturally, divisive reception accompanied its premiere.

Because of its technical arduousness and controversial reputation, "MASS" is not often produced fully staged. Yet Director David Feldshuh and musical director Scott Tucker produced a 90-minute piece that embraces Bernstein's complicated style in its calculated staging and striking visual design.

Fundamentally, "MASS" is a musical work. Bernstein composed its music using the text from the liturgy of the Roman Mass, presumably to capture the emotional resonance it has on its practitioners; delivered by an 80-plus-membered "Liturgical Chorus," the Latin portions' aural impact reverberates through the Schwartz Center's Kiplinger Theatre. In the pit, blues, rock and jazz instruments cooperate with a more standard orchestral setup, and together they bob and weave through precise changes in rhythmic motifs and myriad musical styles.

At the center, though, stands professional opera singer Dominic Inferrera as the central man of cloth, known only as the Celebrant. He drives the Mass onward, his control of diction and dynamics enabling his voice to sustain clarity even buried under the boom of the Liturgical Chorus and the protesting cries of the smaller, more contemporary-sounding Street Chorus.

The former, comprised of members of the Cornell University Chorus and Glee Club, wear black cloaks and stand mostly motionless onstage throughout, while the latter cycles through soloists to represent varied degrees of contentedness in the state of faith. The Street Chorus soloists pounce on their interlude portions, as do the eight members of the Children's Choir (borrowed from the Choraliers of the Ithaca Children's Choir and under the direction of Jennifer Haywood). But the lack of differentiation amongst group members even in the show's program reinforces the thematic focus of shared experience over dissociation.

The foregrounded characters are, however, obviously differentiable in their clothing, as designed by Sarah E. Bernstein. The Celebrant wears all black, while the Street Chorus don emblematic costumes from firefighter to bum.

Joyce Morgenroth's and Christine Olivier's choreography tangoes with Kent Goetz's scenic design. The details are minimal, but the dimensions metamorphose as "MASS" progresses. Giant head puppeteering and rainbow-ribbon dancing are just two highlights of the Alice-in-Wonderland chaos in the early portion of the show; later, when the Liturgical Choir occupies the risers, the lighting design plays a large part in defining the stage space.

With enveloping blues and brazen magentas, E.D. Intemann's lighting flashes and glows at the Celebrant's journey, synchronizing the state of his spiritual trek with the look of his surrounding environment. Sparkles and flares from deep onstage silhouette a population of crosses against a retractable, full-length projection screen, a neat trick that reflects the creative attention paid to the video design overhead.

On three large screens above the stage, filmmaking lecturer Marilyn Rivchin's projection design plays in snyc with the goings-on below. Her contribution usually involves either shots of devotional European paintings or investigation of the words being sung, through English translations of the Latin texts - a different typeface for every portion - or a kinetic typography excursion.

The eventual resolution feels cyclically predictable, and the symbolism periodically too hasty to catch, but Bernstein's vision remains intact, and "MASS" is a work of both bold religious inquiry as well as bold theatrical synergy.


Members of the cast of ‘MASS,’ at Cornell’s Schwartz Center. (Photo provided)

"The Diary of Anne Frank"

Theatre review
"The Diary of Anne Frank" at Syracuse Stage
Ithaca Times
April 15, 2009
683 words
"Growing Pains'"

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Growing Pains

Mark Tedeschi

"The Diary of Anne Frank" by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett, adapted by Wendy Kesselman. Directed by Timothy Bond. Starring Craig Bockhorn, Stephen Cross, Catherine Lynn Davis, Peter Hourihan, Brad Koed, Joel Leffert, Arielle Lever, Leslie Noble, Maureen Silliman, Alexa Silvaggio, Joseph Whelan, and Stuart Zagnit. With scenic design by Marjorie Bradley Kellogg, costume design by Lydia Tanji, lighting design by Les Dickert, sound design by Jonathan R. Herter, projection design by Maya Ciarrocchi, and dialect coaching by Malcolm Ingram.

Sometime in middle school, I read The Diary of a Young Girl - or rather, as I looked at it, I was forced to read The Diary of a Young Girl. I'm loath to admit the book had little resonance at the time - back then it was another school-imposed chunk of paper from which to memorize facts for the latest pop quiz. Fast forward a couple of years: Syracuse Stage has produced a version of that play, adapted again by Wendy Kesselman to accompany the latest version of the diary, that illuminates the unmistakable might in the pages of Anne Frank's sedulous handiwork.

"The Diary of Anne Frank," directed by Syracuse's Producing Artistic Director Timothy Bond, begins with a recorded passage from the diary read by our Anne, Syracuse University junior Arielle Lever. Lever's Anne is the straightaway heart and soul of the show; her vivacity stays the knowledge of the dire, World War II-era circumstances. As Lever's impassioned reading of Anne's elegant writing plays, her family begins settling into a new residence with their very few belongings. Within a few minutes, Anne establishes herself as the vocal center of attention, an energetic (sometimes tireless) girl of 13 insistent upon her destined fame.

Miep (Leslie Noble) and Mr. Kraler (Joseph Whelan), two selfless friends of the Frank family, usher Anne and her father Otto (Joel Leffert), mother Edith (Maureen Sillman), and elder sister Margot (Alexa Silvaggio) into the hidden annex of an Amsterdam office building.

The annex itself, composed essentially of two bedrooms, a common/dining area, and a small attic space, is visible in its entirety throughout the play. The multitalented scenic designer Marjorie Bradley Kellogg constructs a space that conveys constriction and congestion, but allows a depth in presentation that, in collaboration with lighting designer Les Dickert, reveals unnoticed nuance as the story progresses.

Soon, we meet the Van Daans, another Jewish family in hiding: Mr. Van Daan (Craig Bockhorn), Mrs. Van Daan (Catherine Lynn Davis), and their 16-year-old son, Peter (Brad Koed). As the families strive for a semblance of equilibrium amid the perpetual terror, they're joined, at the regretful request of their hosts, by Mr. Dussel (Stuart Zagnit), a Jewish dentist with nowhere else to turn.

Despite Anne's eloquent characterization of the relationships manifesting and evolving in the annex, she often finds herself at odds with everybody - probably thanks to her refusal to quell her dramatic temperament - excepting her patient father, whom she nicknames Pim. Silvaggio's Margot, quite a far cry from her last role at Syracuse Stage, The Mute in last year's "The Fantasticks," is more reserved than Anne, but reveals her own vitality through a love of dance.

Most of the characters joke about the inevitable romance between Anne and Peter, an irritable boy easily targeted by Anne's button-pushing penchant. Soon, though, the proximity draws them closer, and Anne shows an emotional astuteness when she reveals the budding relationship outright to Margot, apologizing for having someone with whom to share confiding moments.

Anne addresses the audience as if we were her beloved diary: "I feel spring in me...I feel it in my entire body and soul," she shares with earnest spirit. "I'm utterly confused, don't know what to read, to write, to do. I only know I am longing."

Surprise tricks in sound and lighting punctuate scenes of escalating strain; bombs explode just outside the annex and projected images of a shouting Adolf Hitler adorn the stage. Just as the tension approaches unbearable levels, Edith catches Mr. Van Daan stealing bread in the middle of the night, a crime for which he breaks down in grief and she insists he be exiled.

During a rare moment of levity, the concluding scenes are set in motion. By this point, Bond has managed to mitigate the impending dread of the hiding families' inescapable fate by focusing on the text's lucid characterization, a refreshing quantity of humor, and the extraordinary maturation of Anne and her writing. Lever declaims the originally omitted passages dealing with Anne's sexual development with insight and courage.

In March of 1944, four months before she was captured, Anne heard a radio broadcast by a Dutch education official encouraging victims of oppression to keep personal records of the wartime events. She began revising her diary for a possible future audience; ultimately, her diligent desire to establish renown for her writing was fulfilled. Her ability to relate her life's narrative with a compelling voice and a curious personality created a story seamlessly translatable to the stage. Syracuse Stage has harnessed and released that potential.



Arielle Lever as Anne Frank in ‘The Diary of Anne Frank.’ (Photo provided)

"Archaeology"

Theatre review
"Archaeology" at the Kitchen Theatre
Ithaca Times
April 15, 2009
711 words
"Uncovering Adulthood"

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Uncovering Adulthood

Mark Tedeschi

"Archaeology," by Rachel Axler. Directed by Margarett Perry. Starring Charlie Forray, Ace Heckathorn, Jack Paque, and Kristin Wheeler. With scenic designer Norm Johnson, lighting designer Jerry Thamm, costume coordinator Abigail Smith, sound designer Ben Truppin-Brown, and stage manager Abigail Davis.

A person's mid-twenties are typically viewed as an era for rediscovery and introspection. Childhood, teenage years, and time in college all provide separate but similar playing fields for untested activity, for experimentation. Eventually, it comes time to make heavy personal choices, and newly christened "grown-ups" look back at what they've learned. They dig through the scrapbooks of their memory to evaluate varied consequences and lessons learned. The theme of young-adult historical analysis permeates "Archaeology," an impressively produced but sometimes disappointing new play at the Kitchen Theatre.

"Archaeology," directed by Margarett Perry and written by former "The Daily Show with John Stewart" writer Rachel Axler, centers on Astin (Jack Paque) and Claire (Kristin Wheeler), two best-friend twentysomethings sharing a house in Upstate New York. Early one summer morning, an earthquake uprights the foundation of their (and only their) living space. The entrance and walkway to the house are both tilted sideways, door hanging open, beside the neat Wizard of Oz-meets-Dali vortex background (Norm Johnson, scenic designer).

Astin, a once-fat, math Ph.D.-dropout sporting an orange polo and plaid pants, stumbles onto the yard, confessing to Claire that he's too hungover to remember exactly when the tremor transpired - nor, for that matter, anything about the previous night. Claire, clad in her housekeeper's uniform and sipping absently on a vodka and lemonade, offers little help; it's immediately clear she's hiding something, some possibly crucial information that remains buried for most of the play.

Soon, help arrives - sort of. Two apparently untalented musicians-cum-grocery baggers-cum-part time Red Cross volunteers, John and Jon (har, har) storm onstage with paired wagons in tow filled with myriad supplies from Twinkies to electromagnets. John, or "H" (Charlie Forray) finds use for the latter when Astin confides that he's been working on an elaborate machine kept secret from Claire - instead, he'd told her he was creating a serialized robot corn cartoon. After an astute if slapdash explanation about Möbius strips and Klein bottles, John stares drop-jawed; Astin comments on his probable lack of understanding, and H becomes insulted.

Meanwhile, Jon (Ace Heckathorn) and Claire discover a crawl area beneath some loose floorboards in the house. Through some apt set and lighting manipulation (Jerry Thamm, lighting designer), the stage's floorboard section becomes the crawl area, where they submit to their childhood instincts and begin to dig. A sizable portion of Jon's stage time is spent highlighting his surfer-dude personality; nonetheless, his affectionate spontaneity impresses Claire.

Axler's script relies on boobish lines like "Man, who knew there was so much dirt underground!" and "Oh, you mean like E equals M.C. Hammer?" for laughs. They're delivered about as sharply as they could be, but the timing feels off even on some of the better jokes, an uncharacteristic directorial departure for Perry, whose knack for strict delivery allowed this season's Dykstra plays to hit their potential.

As Astin and H reconcile and make headway on the machine, Claire and Jon dig up some peculiar artifacts. During one scene of discovery, Ben Truppin-Brown's sound design makes savvy use of some Casio keyboard music in lieu of dialogue to accent the imagination that accompanies unearthing something unexpected; the transitory music choices elsewhere in the play are equally evocative.

Claire finds out about Astin's machine and blows her stack. The hot-blooded arguments that bubble up in "Archaeology" may seem overcooked at first - but the confused emotional drive stays authentic to the almost-full-fledged-adulthood age the characters are grappling with.

The homonymy twins share little in common save their name, their volunteer uniforms, and their tendency to try really hard to sound profound. Their entrance into the disordered lives of Claire and Astin cuts into the lead characters' tangible best-friend chemistry. But inspection of the unspoken provides motivation for both journeys in "Archaeology"; Claire seeks explanation in stratification, while Astin ventures to manipulate time itself.

I won't spoil the final scene, since it's one of the most interesting in the play - certainly the best acted and featuring a laudable metamorphosis in the set design. Here, Perry returns to the superior sense of subtlety seen in, to name one, last year's "Old Times." The conclusion doesn't address every unanswered question, but Axler seems to prefer leaving the arching metaphors open to interpretation. Near the end of the first act, Jon hits something while digging. Claire says, "Ceci n'est pas une pipe," a flag that what we're seeing isn't what it looks like. Fair enough; people don't often acknowledge that the mid-twenties are mysterious, elusive years.



(Provided)

"A New Brain"

Theatre review
"A New Brain" at Ithaca College
The Ithaca Journal
March 11, 2009
657 words
"Ithaca College stages a smart 'New Brain'"

full text here

Ithaca College stages a smart 'New Brain'
BY MARK TEDESCHI • CORRESPONDENT • APRIL 2, 2009

"A New Brain," the new show from Ithaca College's Theatre Department, embarks on a difficult, thin-ice mission: to explore equally the comedy and tragedy of a sudden, life-threatening ailment. A serious malady has the unremitting power to bring out the best and the worst not only in its victim, but its victim's friends and family alike.

When composer/lyricist William Finn was diagnosed with a cerebral arteriovenous malformation, he feared that his best work would remain unfinished, so he harnessed his talent and focused his efforts toward creating "A New Brain." With music and lyrics by Finn and book by Finn and James Lapine, "A New Brain," directed by Susannah Berryman, manages to sustain an enjoyably light story while paying appropriate respect to the gravity of lamentable circumstances.

First, there's the matter of Cornell University Professor Kent Goetz's phenomenal set design. Goetz has transformed the Clark Theater stage into something reminiscent of the laboratory of a mad scientist harboring an obsession for American modernist painting. All sizes of green squares, red and yellow circles, and black lines decorate the floor and backdrop. Surprise projected lighting design tricks by the highly skilled, local-theater-staple IC senior Kelly Syring keep the simple setting - present-day Manhattan - dynamic and spirited.

Ben Fankhauser plays Gordon Schwinn, a songwriter for a children's television show. Troubled by writers' block, Gordon, after a brief run-in with a decrepit homeless woman (Catherine Lena Stephani) meets with his agent, Rhoda (Meredith Ashley Beck) for dinner. Shortly after the first of several hallucinations involving a man (Jeffrey Schara) in an elaborate frog suit (think plaid vest and gigantic polka-dot bow tie), Gordon utters, "Something is wrong!" and collapses.

He is taken to the hospital, where his loving mother, Mimi (Mariah Ciangiola) arrives, his indifferent Doctor (Alex Krasser) confirms the imperativeness of dangerous surgery, the hospital Minister (Bruce Landry) gives little help, and two nurses - the "thin" one, Nancy (Hillary Cathryn Patingre), and the "nice" one, Richard (Jeremy Cole Reese) offer their support.

As Gordon is taking in this barrage of new information, his life partner Roger (Danny Lindgren) returns from a sailing trip. Their relationship is compassionate and without significant strife throughout "A New Brain"; the main characters' closeness strengthens the show's focus on the individualized responses that Gordon's hospitalization evokes. And with less attention to traditional story narrative, the production's energetic style opens up.

There are 34 musical numbers (arranged by Jason Robert Brown) in "A New Brain," but the show itself is well under two hours with no intermission. Most of the storytelling occurs through song, a Sondheim-esque method delivered here with a just-right combination of music (directed and conducted by Joel Gelpe), volume (Jillian Marie Walker, sound designer), and elocution. Finn's thick lyrics flow clearly from the actors in, for example, "Family History" and "Gordo's Law of Genetics," as they simultaneously execute innovative choreography by Adam Pelty, the man behind the beautifully chaotic dancing in IC's "The Wild Party" last November. Director Berryman (whom you might have seen acting downtown at the Kitchen Theatre this season in "Happy Days" and "Tony and the Soprano") brings the performances together with her superior sense of timing and transition.

By the first full-ensemble number, "Heart and Music," it's easy to see the wealth of talent onstage. Not all of the numbers are vital ("Sailing," while well written, felt unessential), but all of the cast members have terrific voices. Often, Ainsley Anderson's costumes enhance the characterization in performance: Stephani, in a beat-up Buffalo Bills sweater and a tattered overcoat, breaks out in the powerful ballad "Change"; and Ciangiola, wearing a black evening gown, plucks at the heartstrings in "The Music Still Plays On." Nurse Richard doesn't look nearly as fat as he's apparently supposed to, but Reese's vocal versatility blossoms in "Eating Myself Up Alive."

Fankhauser brings forth Finn's initial vexation and subsequent determination. "I want to love, but I need to write," Gordon admits. If Finn indeed reached the same conclusion as Gordon and produced songs like the closing "I Feel So Much Spring" as a result, I say he made the right choice. In "A New Brain," Finn's artistic and emotional legacies are one and the same.


Sheryl Sinkow/Provided
William Finn's wry musical "A New Brain," at Ithaca College Theatre through Saturday, April 4, looks at a life interrupted by illness and reclaimed through love and forgiveness. Pictured are Ben Fankhauser, Danny Lindgren and Max Lorn-Krause.