"Crowns"

Theatre review
"Crowns" at Syracuse Stage
Ithaca Times
May 20, 2009
737 words
"Crowning Glory"

full text here

Crowning Glory

Mark Tedeschi

"Crowns" by Regina Taylor, adapted from the book by Michael Cunningham and Craig Marberry. Directed and choreographed by Patdro Harris. Starring Dennis W. Spears, Shannon Antalan, Chandra Currelley, Crystal Fox, Roz White, Valerie Payton, and Terry Burrell. With musical director/pianist William Hubbard, percussionist Otis Gould, scenic designer Felix E. Cochren, costume designer Reggie Ray, lighting designer Jennifer Setlow, and sound designer Jonathan R. Herter.

I am not a fashion expert. In fact, you could say I'm more of a fashion minimalist. I missed out on the discussion of Aretha Franklin's recent inauguration headgear, and when I hear the word "hattitude," I think of Gary Busey giving a slipshod motivational speech in Rookie of the Year. Clearly I have a lot to learn, but fortunately for me, Syracuse Stage's Crowns offers an absorbing and in-depth investigation of a bright corner of the universe of hats - and the people under them.

This past season at Syracuse Stage, the second under producing artistic director Timothy Bond, has comprised myriad glimpses of global culture from Cambodia to Southern California. The final production, Crowns, directed by Patdro Harris, offers a look at African-American women and the role of church hats in their lives. Basically. It's not the hats that are important per se - rather, it's the surrounding societal circumstances and the empowerment these crowns represent.

Regina Taylor based Crowns on a black-and-white photography book from 2000 called Crowns: Portraits of Black Women in Church Hats. To transfer the rich stories embedded in the pictures to the stage, Taylor created a premise to illustrate the specifics of this historied phenomenon: Yolanda (Shannon Antalan), a spunky teen from Brooklyn, has to relocate to South Carolina after her brother is killed. She moves in with her welcoming grandmother, Mother Shaw (Chandra Currelley), and meets four of Mother Shaw's sagacious hat-enthusiast friends.

Costume designer Reggie Ray, owning the stage with his many gorgeous creations, has dressed the five women in easily distinct color motifs: Mother Shaw wears white; flirtatious Jeanette (Crystal Fox) usually dons an aqua blue; the animated Velma (Roz White) wears a regal purple; dependably candid Mabel (Valerie Payton) is adorned in red; and the fastidious Wanda (Terry Burrell) can always be seen in some kind of yellow. The ladies change costume several times in the show, but Dennis W. Spears, playing a multi-character "Man," has to change at least twice as often as the women. Spears's demanding parts range from an impassioned preacher to an ailing old man, and he plays all of them with equal dedication.

The acting in Crowns is all-around fantastic, and so is the musical performance. Like the costumes, the songs span a wide range of styles, serving the audience portions of drum-heavy African dance music, call-and-response church worship hymns, and even a spirited rap performance from Yolanda.

In solos, each of the women prove formidable tone and control, but White's Velma, in particular, brings forth an exhaustingly committed, carefully paced interpretation of "His Eye Is on the Sparrow" that will stick with you well after you leave the Archbold Theatre.

Behind the scenes (actually, behind a translucent backdrop on Felix E. Cochren's wooden-wonderland church set), William Hubbard goes to work on the ivories and percussionist Otis Gould beats the hell out of anything near him. Their sound controls the mood and directs Harris's choreography, a frenetic blend of African and American spiritual fervor.

The influence of African tradition in Crowns extends beyond its music and dance; the characters are modeled partially from devotional elements in the Western African Yoruba religion. Additionally, for many cultural groups in Africa, adorning oneself for worship is a standard practice, revealing African roots in the church hats' significance.

Yolanda's grandmother and her friends eagerly elucidate the intricacies of hat-tradition, including hat humor. They demonstrate the proper way to hug a woman in a hat and chuckle about garish lampshade-esque hats or those with big red feathers: "It looked like it could fly!"

The crowns in Crowns act as storytelling relics. They spark familial memories even for Yolanda, who clutches her brother's red baseball cap for most of the play. Moreover, the elaborate hats are status symbols (as are the matching shoes, gloves and pocketbooks), despite the "modest apparel" church worship supposedly calls for. But the characters do acknowledge the objection to their evident materialistic inclinations. When Spears's priest decries their regular appearance in new hats despite their claimed inability to consistently pay tithes, Mabel defends their actions and insists the hats are not more important than praise.

But she doesn't really need to explain. Church hats are a powerful cultural symbol for many people, period. Crowns may not exactly tell you why, but it'll show you how. And I can guarantee it will provide you with a healthy and thorough understanding of the word "hattitude."



Valerie Payton, Crystal Fox, Dennis Spears (The Man), Shannon Antalan (Yolanda), Roz White (Velma), Terry Burrell (Wanda) in "Crowns." (Photo by T. Charles Erickson)

"The Diary of Anne Frank"

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

full text here

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)

"Up"

Theatre review
"Up" at Syracuse Stage
Ithaca Times
March 11, 2009
793 words
"Balancing Act"

full text here

Balancing Act

by Mark Tedeschi

"Up," by Bridget Carpenter. Directed by Penny Metropulos. Starring Christopher Duval, Susannah Flood, Suzanna Hay, Todd Jefferson Moore, Graham Powell, Mhari Sandoval. With scenic designer Michael V. Sims, costume designer Maggie Dick, lighting designer Thomas C. Hase, and sound designer/composer Ryan Rumery.

This year's Oscar-winning documentary was about a man who spent four years planning and executing an illegal wire walk across the two World Trade Center towers. The film presents explicitly the How of his feat, but can only rely on conceptual explanations for the Why. The single, inexorable reason offered by Philippe Petit, the title "Man on Wire": It was his dream.

Since Petit completed the walk in 1974, the amount of time, energy, and money he spent fulfilling his dream has been baffling minds perhaps moreso than the actual event. Petit's long-term dedication advances his accomplishment from ludicrous to transcendent. He nurtured a love and a talent, set a goal utterly insane by quotidian standards, and followed the plan to completion. The fascination with dream pursuit, as it relates (topically) to family and finance - as well as an investigation of Philippe Petit as an inspirational archetype - courses through the veins of Syracuse Stage's latest feature, Bridget Carpenter's "Up."

Director Penny Metropulos has praised Carpenter's "ability to move in and out of reality with disarming agility." In "Up," Metropulos holds true to that form. The ethereal production design is grounded by a rock-solid cast, unleashing performances at once comforting and exciting. "Up" zeroes in on the Griffins - Walter (Todd Jefferson Moore); his wife, Helen (Mhari Sandoval); and their son, Mikey (Graham Powell) - a family scratching to find that holy-grail balance between what they wish to do, what they "should" do, and what they can afford to do. Playwright Penny Metropulos based Walter on a real person named Larry Walters who, like Petit, decided the sky was the limit; in 1982, he tethered 42 weather balloons to a lawn chair and flew, unauthorized, 16,000 feet into the air across Southern California.

The play takes place 16 years later: Walter insists on keeping his thoughts out of and away from the box, focusing his efforts on impractical inventions that place a monetary burden on his loving, hard-working, mail-carrying wife. Powell plays their son with a crippling uncertainty as two conflicting ideologies wreak havoc on his developing psyche.

Mikey finds a bit of direction on the first day of sophomore year, when a spunky, six-months-pregnant new girl, Maria (Susannah Flood) spots and grills him. At first, Mikey is as scared of her as I'd have been at that age, but her congenial sincerity bonds them into a close friendship rife with romantic chemistry. Maria's Aunt Chris (Suzanna Hay) offers him a gig in her office supply sales business, and Mikey discovers a lucrative knack.

The acting in "Up" lends the already poignant script an additional closeness. When Flood weeps, she seems to notice her tears less than you will your own. She and Moore as the two teenagers find themselves entrenched in scattered emotional outpours as their characters discover that living doesn't inevitably become easier with time. Long tormented by that truth, Walter turns to Philippe Petit (Christopher Duval), who saunters occasionally across a platform "wire" high in the background, for nuggets of advice like "A bird does not carry a wallet!" that sounds a little too idealistic to be helpful.

Michael V. Sims's hypnotic set, the background and translucent pillars (moved about by crews clad in jumpsuits and headsets) all painted with a cloudy sky pattern, evokes a waking dreamworld under soft yellow lighting (Thomas C. Hase, designer). When the conflict intensifies, the stage is shocked with a blaze of green or red, the former accompanying a spike in overlapped dialogue. Sound designer and composer Ryan Rumery creates a mood that matches the setting - quiet, orchestral tunes featuring an array of instruments from acoustic guitar to accordion.

The costumes (Maggie Dick, designer) reveal character: Aunt Chris wears a loud vest and sparkly jeans, sequins all around; Walter looks frazzled in his ruffled shirt with rolled-up sleeves; and cautious Mikey in a blend-in polo becomes go-getting Michael between acts with a handy tuck-in and posture adjustment.

Eventually, Walter focuses considerably more on distancing himself from the stranglehold of money than Helen does on earning enough to support their family. Michael defends his father's right to follow a dream, but responds with fury when he finds out his father has been flat-out dishonest about his latest enterprise.

Though it concludes with a note of triumph, "Up" leaves the characters we've grown close to in a state of bleak disrepair. As Maria reminds Mikey, most people search their whole lives to find what makes them special, but she doesn't offer any counsel on balance - a crucial element, especially today, that the Griffins can't seem to pin. Still, the sentiment of Philippe Petit and Larry Walters, simple in theory and backbreaking in practice, remains: Follow your dreams, however high, no matter the cost.


Suzanna Hay, Todd Jefferson Moore and Mhari Sandoval in the Syracuse Stage production of ‘Up.’ (Photo by T. Charles Erickson)

"Putting it Together"

Theatre review
"Putting it Together" at Syracuse Stage
Ithaca Times
February 11, 2009
660 words
"Song & Dance"

full text here

Song & Dance

Mark Tedeschi

Putting It Together, words and music by Stephen Sondheim. Devised by Stephen Sondheim and Julia McKenzie. Directed and choreographed by Rajendra Ramoon Maharaj, with musical director Dianne Adams McDowell. Starring Chuck Cooper, Tyler Hanes, André Ward, Lillias White, and Stephanie Youell. Scenic design by Felix Cochren, costumes by Maria Marrero, lighting by Josh Bradford, sound by Jonathan R. Herter.

Stephen Sondheim's musicals disguise comprehensive ambition with lucid storytelling and fresh subtleties. By the early 1990s, his cohesive and lyrically bright songs had earned a level of popularity and prolificacy wherein compilation was inevitable; the result of his collaboration with actor/director Julie McKenzie, a musical "review" called "Putting it Together," premiered in England in 1992, on Broadway in 1999, and at Syracuse Stage last month. "Every little detail plays a part," inform the lyrics of the title number. "Putting it Together": It's what Sondheim does best.

Usually, though, when Sondheim "puts it together," he crafts a nuanced story replete with organic songwriting - not a story chassis around which to write songs, or in the case of "Together," a stock backdrop (the characters literally nameless) that sort-of fits with a handful of his preexisting tunes. Fortunately, his songs are dependably enjoyable, so the show at Syracuse, directed and choreographed by Rajendra Ramoon Maharaj, while not to the brim with pure Sondheim, is still plenty full.

André Ward (Man 3), his big, genuine smile extremely contagious, delivers the scripted curtain speech and with vim and vigor. He introduces and intermittently narrates the "story": An older married couple invite a younger unmarried couple to their swanky, contemporary Trump Tower penthouse for cocktails. They ruminate on their respective marital situations via song while Man 3 sticks around to comment.

The older, black couple (Man 1 and Woman 1) are played by Tony Award-winners Chuck Cooper and Lillias White. Cooper's resonant baritone booms early on in "Rich and Happy" from "Merrily We Roll Along" and quietly captivates later in "Good Thing Going" from the same. White solos deftly, her character progressively tipsier, with "My Husband The Pig" ("A Little Night Music") and "Could I Leave You?" ("Follies").

Like the couple they portray, the older performers are more seasoned and experienced, but Man 2 (Tyler Hanes) and Woman 2 (Stephanie Youell) have plenty of youthful exuberance to highlight their talent. Hanes holds his own alongside Cooper in "Company's" "Have I Got a Girl for You" and the "Sweeney Todd" number "Pretty Women," while Youell nails two songs from the movie "Dick Tracy": "Sooner Or Later" and "More."

Man 3 is chiefly included as a narrative tool; he introduces the songs with a single categorical word like "Happiness," "Seduction," "Competition," or "Desperation" in an attempt to justify the jumpiness of an undeveloped plot. However, Ward's irrepressible enthusiasm, showcased in his feature solo number "Buddy's Blues" ("Follies") wins him a buoyant, absorbing stage presence.

Together, the five performers master their harmonies (no easy feat with Sondheim's musical acrobatics) and explore the set under Maharaj's diverse choreography. "Bang!" from "A Little Night Music" uses quick and meticulous movements, while the minimalist gestures in the arresting "Company" song "Being Alive" softly communicate resolute hope and conviction.

Felix E. Cochren, scenic designer, also worked on "Into the Woods" and "A Little Night Music" at Syracuse previously; here, he creates a well-to-do setting using a chandelier, a top-shelf bar, fancy curtains, and two symmetrical staircases leading to an upper-level landing at center stage. The characters' clothing, designed by Maria Marrero, fits smartly with the surroundings: a sequined crimson dress, a sharp pinstripe suit, an aqua collared shirt under a diamond print sweater. Additionally, Josh Bradford's atmospheric and often inventive lighting design contributes to the posh ambiance of the palatial surroundings.

Also on stage sit the two instrumentalists: percussion and synthesizer player Jimmy Johns and musical director, conductor and show pianist Dianne Adams McDowell, who makes playing piano flawlessly for almost two straight hours seem easy.

In "Putting it Together," context destroys subtext - or at least obstructs it. Sondheim's conversational lyrics and musical motifs relate specifically to an all-inclusive show, so swiped from their original source material, the songs lack a certain logical depth. But while a full Sondheim musical may prove more fulfilling, the quality of performance and faithful delivery at Syracuse will satisfy the fans and intrigue the uninitiated.


Andre Ward, Stephanie Youell, Chuck Cooper, Tyler Hanes and Lillias White in ‘Putting It Together,’ now at the Syracuse Stage. (Photo by T. Charles Erickson)

"The Santaland Diaries"

Theatre review
"The Santaland Diaries" at Syracuse Stage
Ithaca Times
December 17, 2008
706 words
"Ho Ho Help"

full text here

Ho Ho Help

Mark Tedeschi

The Santaland Diaries by David Sedaris, adapted for the stage by Joe Mantello. Directed by Wendy Knox. Starring Wade McCollum. With scenic and costume designer Jessica Ford, lighting designer Alex Koziara, and sound designer Sarah Pickett.

There's a one-actor play at Syracuse Stage called The Santaland Diaries that's about an hour and fifteen minutes long, roughly the same amount of time it takes for a drive to the theater from Ithaca, one way. If you're a diehard David Sedaris fan, though, or just in the mood for some top-notch seasonal comedy, this show is well worth the trip.

Santaland is based on the essay that, when Sedaris read it on NPR's "Morning Edition" in 1992, sparked literary attention for his shrewd, irreverent style. Four years later, Tony Award-winning director Joe Mantello adapted Sedaris's "Santaland Diaries" for the stage, placing much of the original text verbatim into the show and adding his own equally punchy portions of elaborations and side-stories.

At Syracuse's Storch Theatre, Jessica Ford's set extends into the hallways, successfully disguised as cheery Christmas decorations under the customary call of bubbly holiday staples like "Feliz Navidad." As Wade McCollum, the lone performer in Santaland, launches his narration, the pine-green wreaths, shiny ornaments, and ribbon-tied presents adorning the edges of the stage begin to conjure the all-too-familiar but annually tolerated stresses of the season. Santaland is a true account of Sedaris's starving-artist decision to apply for a job as an elf in Macy's Santaland and the borderline insane encounters he has with flirtatious co-elves, a sundry spectrum of Santas, and exasperated parents.

McCollum's character gives himself the elf name "Crumpet" (one of those inherently funny words - later, he changes it to "Blisters") and vividly describes both the elf outfit he must wear (Ford designed that too) and the surreal environment in which he is to wear it. Luckily, this is a theatre performance, not an essay reading; we actually get to see both. He changes into candy cane leggings, a yellow turtleneck, a green vest, a green hat, and oversized green shoes. After dressing, stone-faced, he expertly delivers the classic Sedaris line, "This is my work uniform."

When the curtain goes up, surprise! Santa's illustrious chair sits in front while snowdrift-covered trees and houses recede deep into the Santaland background.

McCollum, under Wendy Knox's direction, confidently pitches Sedaris's rapid-fire language from deadpan mentions of "parents relentless on their quest for documentation" to lurid fantasies of Santaland's transformation into a kind of hellish Satan-land. The latter is a prime example of McCollum's performance cooperating with the lighting (Alex Koziara) and sound (Sarah Pickett): the entire stage bathed in crimson, a low rumble emanates from the speakers as McCollum envisions the "pools of blood and feces" the visitors must wade through.

Gross, huh? Sedaris's humor isn't typically for young children, and this is no exception. His jokes are often harsh and sometimes risky enough to miss their target from time to time, but the joke density in a Sedaris piece is thick enough to move smoothly from one to the next without breaking momentum. Crumpet's observations on the folks who ask for their child to specifically see either a black or a white Santa could fall flat, but the ruminations' objectivity enhances their comedy.

Other imitations of Santaland visitors occur at regular intervals; McCollum proves a knack for giving each a distinct flair. A jokester dad from Jersey provides his best fodder, while his occasional crowd-milking mugging as in a dimwitted waitress ranks among the weaker moments. The consistent discovery natural to Sedaris's dependable style shows up on the stage; lighting tricks like a bright flash indicating a kid-with-Santa photograph or a falling-snowflake effect are saved for the second half of the show.

Four days to Christmas, the holiday stresses escalate. Crumpet begins to snap back at disgruntled guests who whine, "I'm gonna have you fired!" with, "I'm gonna have you killed!" Closer to the day, Mantello dives into a heartfelt but nonetheless cornballish departure from straight comedy in favor of a sobering reminder of the "It's Christmas" spirit of selflessness we see in countless holiday stories from Miracle on 34th Street to Bad Santa.

The segue, different from the comparatively cynical ending of the source material, is unexpected - but not unwelcome. Sedaris is the first to include himself in his fault-finding; but when the unstoppable force of his societal criticism meets the immovable object of holiday atmosphere, even self-deprecation can take a breather.


Wade McCollum in ‘The Santaland Diaries,’ now at Syracuse Stage. (Photo by T. Charles Erickson)

"The Rimers of Eldritch"

Theatre review
"The Rimers of Eldritch" at Syracuse Stage
Ithaca Times
December 3, 2008
718 words
"Midwestern Malaise"

full text here

Midwestern Malaise

Mark Tedeschi

The Rimers of Eldritch by Lanford Wilson. Directed by Geraldine Clark. Starring Alex Alcheh, Hilary Curwen, Megan Dobbertin, Sarah Gorman, Eric Grapatin, Peter Hourihan, Kerry Kazmierowicztrimm, Brad Koed, Becky Leifman, Patrick Murney, Kristian Rodriguez, Alanna Rogers, Amy Shapiro, Liz Tancredi, Lindsey Van Horn, Danielle von Gal, and Tara Windley. With dialect coach Joe Alberti, scenic designer Michael M. Nardulli, costume designer Lauren Levesque, lighting designer Christine E. Bernat, sound designer David Huber, and stage manager Kathryn Graves.

Now is about the time of year when, following a somnolent morning glance out the window, it's almost a comfort to see a delicate coating of rime completely covering the intricate, labyrinthine branches of a bare tree. Overnight winter stillness allows vapor to collect and freeze, transforming whatever it touches into a bleached apparition of what it used to be.

The handful of residents still inhabiting the 1953 Missouri ghost town of Eldritch in Lanford Wilson's The Rimers of Eldritch fit their title branding; they slowly cake their town with a chilly hoarfrost of gossip, but like the rime on a piece of vegetation, it's impermanent; sooner or later, it will build up and break off, baring its true nature.

In the dark and methodical Rimers, which completed its run at Syracuse Stage at the end of November, the cast inhabits the stage for the whole of its presentation. The fascinating, unconventional structure of the play offers its audience a fly-on-the-wall privilege: You can hear all that transpires, but the everyone-knows-everyone tidbits of hearsay don't entirely make sense at first.

The characters generally stay put, each in his or her designated area; Nardulli's minimal, pantomimed-props set conveys a deceptively straightforward assemblage of layered Eldritch settings - a porch, a preacher's pulpit doubling as a judge's bench, a boulder in the woods - all beneath a tilted cross hanging still overhead. Bernat's remarkable lighting design complements the speedy dialogue changes, smoothly illuminating whose turn it is to speak with an autumnal gold.

We gather - or rather, overhear - that there's been a murder of someone unnamed and a sexual attack directed at a young teen, Eva Jackson (Windley). Wilson's deliberate script delivers calculated smatters of information; dialogue overlaps, jumps to and fro in time, and is often revisited, so the specifics are signaled but not directly revealed until the climax. The townspeople offer each other their two cents on the shocking crimes and, since there is little else to do in Eldritch besides share slices of juicy misinformation, other goings-on in town.

Cora Graves (Tancredi) has taken in a much-younger Walter (Coed) as an employee and bedmate, as spouted in the beginning from the queens of buzz, Martha Truitt (Dobbertin) and Wilma Atkins (Gorman); Robert Conklin (Murney), pejoratively called "Driver Junior" after his late race-car enthusiast older brother, spends most of his time avoiding people save the physically disabled 14 year old, Eva; Josh Johnson (Alcheh), brother to Patsy (Curwen), and Lena Truitt (Leifman) begin seeing each other out of sheer proximity; everyone shares a loathing for the reclusive creeper, Skelly Manor (Rodriguez); and throughout, the town switches from attending the trial for the crimes at hand and worshipping at church (curiously, the Judge and Priest are both played by Kazmierowicztrimm).

Wilson's complicated storytelling technique cannot be executed well without quality actors, and Syracuse University's cast, under Clark's deft direction and Alberti's effective Midwest-dialect coaching, delivers. Windley's Eva convinces entirely as blossoming teen wrought with small-town cabin fever, especially in her scenes with Murney's Rob.

The most stunning performance comes from Rodriguez as Skelly; instead of the "deep, mangled, growling, almost drunken voice" in the original stage directions, he finds a higher-pitched sort of howl in the character's speech that teeters ambiguously on a tightrope between confidence and terror. Rodriguez delivers a riveting extended monologue, a centerpiece of the second act wherein his use of timing and gesture signals an outstanding and disciplined talent.

Skelly and Mary (played with appropriate chaos by Van Horn, supplemented by Shapiro's concerned Nelly), the two characters with the least of their minds left, seem to comprehend Eldritch better than the others. "People talk but they don't know - it's them that's the bastards," Skelly says simply. "I don't want to go up there," says Mary, afraid to be stuck in her room. "The evil town is all around me up there." But even Mary can't stop herself telling people that her daughter beats her.

The jabber amongst the township, when taken at face value, echoes the typical gossip one might find in a tabloid; but when scattered and reassembled, it reveals an obscured, melancholy poetry. Few in Eldritch are innocent of tossing these lyrical stories at one another, and as the town's layer of rime collapses under is own weight, its population is rendered both exposed and speechless.


Brad Koed and Liz Tancredi in the ‘The Rimers of Eldritch.’ (Photo by Michael Davis)

"Tales from the Salt City"

Theatre review
"Tales From the Salt City" at Syracuse Stage
Ithaca Times
October 29, 2008
691 words
"Syracuse Stage tells seven stories"

full text here

Syracuse Stages seven stories

Mark Tedeschi

Tales From the Salt City, conceived and directed by Ping Chong. Written by Ping Chong and Sara Michelle Zatz, also project manager. Starring Lino T. Ariloka, Gordana Dudevski, Rebecca Isabel Fuentes, José Miguel Hernández, Albert Marshall, Emad Rahim, and Jeanne Shenandoah. With dramaturg Kyle Bass, projection designer Maya Ciarrocchi, lighting designer Darren W. McCroom, sound designer Jonathan R. Herter, and stage manager Amber Dickerson.

A story told well will entertain and, we hope, edify. Watching a movie or reading a book often instills in us poignant lessons or observations about life. And if what we're seeing has the stamp "based on a true story" emblazoned alongside its title, watch out - somehow, its credibility skyrockets.

Plays based on reality - to the extent that they can be labeled "documentary theatre" - are exceptionally interesting animals. The immediacy of live performance, by its nature, foregrounds representation of reality, so what could that stamp realistically add? Well, if it's done Ping Chong's way: more than you ever thought possible.

Tales from the Salt City, Chong's 38th project in a series titled "Undesirable Elements," has no real need for either of the above labels. "Tales" is a collection of stories, told by the people who experienced them, wound together into the big ball of yarns in which we all play roles.

Seven performers, chosen after a series of interviews, face the audience in a semicircle, sitting atop 2,500 pounds of salt. When they speak sequentially in their first languages, the juxtaposition of sounds creates a rousing euphony - after all, the rich variance of language is a flagship of cultural identity. They read the script from music stands. They come from seven distinct worlds, but they tell their story as one, chronologically. They only speak a few sentences at a time, often playing characters in different stories or simply adding to each others' thoughts. The seven seem to have little in common besides a life constantly balancing struggle and joy that led them, ultimately, to Syracuse.

As briefly as justice permits, the performers: Lino T. Ariloka, an 8-year Syracuse resident from Sudan; Gordana Dudevski, a mother of two from Velas, Macedonia; Rebecca Isabel Fuentes, an Army Specialist-turned-immigrant rights activist from Tijuana, Mexico; José Miguel Hernández, a theatre dance instructor from Cuba; Albert Marshall, a black Syracuse native and president of the 1277 United Steel Workers Local Union; Emad Rahim, a Cambodian Muslim who lost his parents in the Killing Fields; and Jeanne Shenandoah, an herbalist and member of the Eel Clan of the Onondaga Nation.

Unified clapping and the announcement of a year and place, typically stated by the storyteller and echoed by the rest of the circle, punctuates their words. Each member starts with the circumstances of his or her birth and follows with early family life. Eventually, one by one, they make their way to Syracuse - and to crowd-pleaser lines like "Then she took me to Wegman's... wow!" and, "Ever since they built that Carousel Mall, Syracuse has never been the same!"

A few times, they relax the often fast-paced dialogue for a musical interlude, either sung with show-stopping beauty by one of the performers or played via sound system while the huge projection screen in the background displays images related to their stories. During the latter, the performers rise and pace while the lighting shifts to a deep blue and pillars of salt cascade, neatly somehow, down to the ground, a tribute to Syracuse's salt mining hisory. They reorganize their places, reinforcing the show's no-one's-in-charge harmony.

Chong and Zatz based the show's script on the interviews with the Syracuse performers and gave them final approval to make sure that the lines appropriately "sounded" like them. By level of enthusiasm, some have a more natural stage presence than others (and there's an occasional, understandable overlap of lines), but all, with an earnest, nothing-to-lose honesty, are able to effectively communicate both deep sadness and heartfelt laughter. And the unique motifs ("One... two... three eternities pass," and, "Don't rock the boat") give the script a laudable cohesion.

The "Undesirable Elements," unfortunately, are the seven performers; each has been subject to cultural prejudice at one time or another. A harsh reality, but Chong's work shines light not solely on the sorry state of affairs, but on the possibilities of humanity and the potential for improvement. Thanks to Ping Chong & Company's acceptance into a new arts initiative created by the Nonprofit Finance Fund, more "Undesirable Elements" productions might be cropping up in other cities. Great news - I want to see another one.


The cast of ‘Tales from the Salt City,’ now playing at Syracuse Stage. (Photo by Michael Davis)

"Steel Pier"

Theatre review
"Steel Pier" at Syracuse Stage
Ithaca Times
October 15, 2008
670 words
"'Spirited in acting and breathtaking in choreography, 'Steel Pier' hits all the right notes"

full text here

Spirited in acting and breathtaking in choreography, 'Steel Pier' hits all the right notes

Mark Tedeschi

Steel Pier, book by David Thompson, music by John Kander, lyrics by Fred Ebb. Conceived by Scott Ellis, Susan Stroman, and David Thompson. Directed and choreographed by David Wanstreet. Starring Brendon Stimson, Nadine Malouf, Kelsey Stalter, Brody Hessin, Elena Shapiro, Matthew Tolstoy, Lauren Nolan, Benjamin Michael, Katja Zarolinski, and Jared M. Poulin. With musical director Nathan Hurwitz, scenic designer Robert John Andrusko, costume designer Meggan Camp Kulczynski, lighting designer Alok Wadhwani, sound designer Jonathan R. Herter, and stage manager Dimitre Guenov.

The dance marathon - alongside bob cuts, flagpole sitting, and Prohibition - is surely one of the weirdest American phenomena to come out of the 1920s. Dance marathons started out as spirited (if grueling) celebrations of whimsy and competition, but possibly fueled by the yearning desperation of the Depression era, they devolved into spectacle-driven cash cows generally hosted by greedy exploiters. As such, an early-1930s dance marathon is an excellent setting for musical theatre.

Steel Pier, the new musical at Syracuse Stage put on by SU Drama, takes place in 1933 at the famed amusement pier in Atlantic City. The eleven-Tonys-nominated show, which ran for just a few months on Broadway in 1997, clocks in at around three hours - but with its impressive production design, spirited acting, and breathtaking choreography, even the slothlike movement of latter-hour marathoners feels rousing.

The show opens on go-getter stunt pilot Bill Kelly (Brendon Stimson) disoriented and clutching a ticket, declaring, "I understand - I've got three weeks!" He hears floor judge Mr. Walker (Justin Nichols) announcing the event and signs himself up. Along the way, he runs into (and is later paired as dance partners with) Rita Racine (Nadine Malouf), a popular performer who relates her all but intolerable weariness toward dance marathon participation. She's secretly married to the glossy Mick Hamilton (Benjamin Michael), the marathon's promoter and charming master of ceremonies - while under the skin, he's a sleazy, menacing control freak.

The rest of the cast is enormous yet delightfully varied. Some memorable couples: Shelby Stevens (Kelsey Stalter), a lovably lascivious Mae West-type with harmonicist Luke Adams (Dominique Stasiulis, a skilled harp player); Buddy Becker (Brody Hessin), a hyper vaudevillian with his optimistic sister Bette (Elena Shapiro); Happy and Precious McGuire (Matthew Tolstoy and Lauren Nolan), naive Utah newlyweds.

Over 21 days, the couples endure the strict rules of competition (which are printed in the program and posted near the stage); most importantly, they must dance for a full 45 minutes with only a 15-minute break every hour. To raise the stakes, officials can institute mandatory sprints to weed out the weak, and throughout the show, the number of couples gradually dwindles.

We soon learn that Bill has been in love with Rita since he first saw her perform at an airshow. He's determined to redeem a raffle ticket he won promising a dance - a "real" dance - with her.

With such a large cast navigating the stage in almost constant pandemoniac movements, director/choreographer David Wanstreet proves his dexterity. Foxtrots, waltzes, polkas, and swing dances punctuate and augment the solid performances, especially from the leads. Michael's aggression is scary and Stimson's earnestness genuine; but the show belongs to Malouf. She transplants to the audience Rita's complex yet sympathetic emotional struggle through committed delivery of song, dance, and dialogue.

Steel Pier's choreography and music cover a wide breadth of buoyant, of-the-era styles. "Everybody Dance" kicks off the Steel Pier marathon with jaunty exuberance. "A Powerful Thing," "Everybody's Girl," "Running in Place," and "First You Dream" are a few more catchy numbers, and Nolan's undeniable, high-soprano vocal talent is a pleasant surprise as she leads the song, "Two Little Words."

The Nathan Hurwitz-led band sits silhouetted behind a sheer starry backdrop, courtesy of scenic designer Robert John Andrusko. The design, based on actual elements of the Atlantic City pier, contains a number of clever set pieces, from a propeller-complete airplane with platformed wings for dancers to a simple rooftop spire with "windows" overlooking the marathon goings-on.

Meggan Camp Kulczynski's costumes and Alok Wadhwani's lighting mirror each other; deep reds, bright oranges and razzle-dazzle purples dominate the show, often giving the action a welcome ebullience.

Mick's man-behind-the-curtain command of the Steel Pier marathon's publicized drama reflects the real sensationalization showcased in 1930s dance marathon events. Schadenfreude is all well and good, but a behind-the-scenes story seems even more compelling than the actual event as it was outwardly misrepresented. And until someone makes a musical exposing the abhorrent underbelly of flagpole sitting, Steel Pier shall keep us entertained.

Ensemble in the SU Drama production of ‘Steel Pier.’ (Photo by Michael Davis)

"Ma Rainey's Black Bottom"

Theatre review
"Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" at Syracuse Stage
Ithaca Times
September 24, 2008
736 words
"'Ma Rainey's Black Bottom' opens up the Syracuse Stage 2008 season with a big, musical bang"

full text here

'Ma Rainey's Black Bottom' opens up the Syracuse Stage 2008 season with a big, musical bang

Mark Tedeschi

"Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" by August Wilson. Directed by Timothy Bond. Starring Thomas Jefferson Byrd, Doug Eskew, Ebony Jo-Ann, Warner Miller, Cortez Nance. With composer Michael G. Keck, choreographer Anthony Salatino, scenic designer William Bloodgood, costume designer Helen Q. Huang, lighting designer Darren W. McCroom, sound designer Jonathan Herter.

Since 1990, Syracuse Stage has produced four plays from August Wilson's acclaimed "Pittsburgh Cycle." Their current season opener, "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" marks number five. Syracuse Stage's current producing artistic director, Timothy Bond, has committed to directing the rest of Wilson's ten-play cycle, and judging by Bond's work directing "Ma Rainey," Wilson's stories are in able hands.

Bond has directed "Ma Rainey" before, at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival; in this Syracuse production, he harnesses nuance to highlight the potent resonance that has earned "Ma Rainey" its respected reputation (including several Tony nominations for its 1984 debut).

Equal parts comedy, tragedy, and musical, "Ma Rainey" takes place over one day in a 1920s Chicago recording studio (it's the only of Wilson's cycle not set in Pittsburgh). Ma Rainey is based on a real woman of the same name, a singer known as "The Mother of the Blues" who, in the play, never hesitates to demand the recording session take place according to her terms.

While they wait for Ma Rainey to arrive, the rest of the band spends time in the rehearsal room chewing over music, humor, philosophy, storytelling, and the sociopolitical state of black people in America.

Toledo, the well-read pianist (Thomas Jefferson Byrd, Tony nominee for the same part in Broadway's 2003 "Ma Rainey" production) always delivers his speeches with deliberate and insistent articulation. He and the senior guitarist Cutler (Cortez Nance) often clash with the ebullient and ambitious young trumpeter, Levee (Warner Miller, definitely on his way up), who delights in his new shoes while always looking to jazz up their music, which is rooted more in traditional blues. Slow Drag (Doug Eskew), the bassist, also chimes with his opinions and, occasionally, his powerful singing voice.

That leaves Sturdyvant (John Ottavino), the studio big shot; Irvin (Kenny Morris), the only one capable of handling Ma; Ma's entourage, the stuttering Sylvester (James F. Miller) and trouble-magnet Dussie Mae (Danielle Lenee'); and Ma Rainey herself, played with riveting confidence by Ebony Jo Anne, no stranger to the role.

As soon as Ma, decked out in a regal red and gold dress, finally arrives, she demands to play songs of her choice in the style she prefers. Ma even demands that Sylvester speak the opening lines of the title track to help cure his stutter and, despite Irvin's earnest pleas, postpones recording until someone somehow presents her with a Coca-Cola. She knows her talent will earn money for the record company, so there's no point in following instructions from anyone but herself. The real Ma Rainey demonstrated a similar stubbornness in her refusal to change from her Southern-folk style of singing to the more popular "sophisticated" sound of the 20s and 30s.

The music for "Ma Rainey" put together by Michael G. Keck easily induces toe-tapping and showcases the cast's musical capability - particularly Ebony Jo Anne's phenomenal singing voice - to capture the style of early blues music. Credit also goes to sound designer Jonathan Herter for crisp timing and the often comedic effect of the in-and-out click coming from Irvin and Sturdyvant in the recording booth.

One of the most striking components of William Bloodgood's brilliant set design is the hierarchy of the stage: on the bottom, there's the dusty, purgatorial rehearsal room; in the middle, the soundstage, where Ma and her band play; and way up above, there's the recording booth where the two white characters spend most of their time. Fluid lighting shifts (Darren W. McCroom, designer) accompany changes in focus during certain scenes.

Mirroring the rich, layered browns in the set's background and furniture is Helen Q. Huang's costume design; besides Ma's lush regalia, the musicians' suits all seem, from ties to shoes, apropos and illuminating to each character.

Wilson's dialogue, as lyrical as the music the characters cherish, holds immense power. Each voice has its own current, temperament, vocabulary, and most notably, style. Their interactions sound realistic but fascinating, natural but beautifully crafted.

All together, Bond's take on "Ma Rainey" foregrounds the many talking points that have earned Wilson's play a classic status while simultaneously retaining the subtlety of skilled storytelling. The band members poke fun at each other, making us laugh, until they're inevitably back to looking social malaise square in the face. In his youth, Levee hasn't picked up what Ma and the others know: to take what you can get when opportunity allows, but if there's nothing else, there's music.

Warner Miller as Levee, and Doug Eskew as Slow Drag in the Syracuse Stage production of ‘Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom.’ (Photo by T Charles Erickson)

"The Fantasticks"

Theatre review
"The Fantasticks" at Syracuse Stage
Ithaca Times
May 7, 2008
775 words
"Fine and Familiar...Syracuse stage's production of long time favorite"

full text here

Fine and Familiar...Syracuse stage's production of long time favorite
By: Mark Tedeschi
05/07/2008

The Fantasticks, book and lyrics by Tom Jones, music by Harvey Schmidt, directed and choreographed by Peter Amster. With Charles Goad, Mark Goetzinger, Robert K. Johansen, William J. Norris, Alexa Silvaggio, David Studwell, Mackenzie Thomas, and Eric Van Tielen, and some singing by Lauren Nolan. Music direction by David Nelson, scenic design by Scott Bradley, costumes by Maria Marrero, lighting by Ann Wrightson, sound design by Todd Mack Reischman.

Anyone involved in the original 1960 production of the romantic comedy/musical The Fantasticks must be exhausted with pride by now. After an initial opening to mixed reviews, the show eventually became a statistical monster. It's both the world's longest-running musical (17,162 performances in 42 years off-Broadway) and the most frequently produced (11,000 productions in over 3,000 cities and towns) - not to mention that the original 44 investors have received a 19,465% return on their initial contribution.

Why has this particular show enjoyed such immense success? It's actually quite simple, and we have a fine production currently at Syracuse Stage to prove it. The core story is uncomplicated, tried, and familiar: Two neighbors, a girl (Luisa, played in this show by Thomas) and a boy (Matt, played by Van Tielen), fall in love against their fathers' (Bellomy, played by Goad, and Huklebee, by Goetzinger) wishes. Little did they know, their fathers wanted them to get together, but were subscribing to the ubiquitous notion that children always disobey their parents. When Luisa and Matt do find out the truth, they separate, and later, reconsider their feelings.

The magic of The Fantasticks blooms from its self-consciousness: There's a narrator, El Gallo (Studwell) who participates in the plot as a swashbuckling cosmopolite; two actors playing actors, Mortimer and Henry (Johansen and Norris), who literally appear from the stage itself; and a mime known only as The Mute (Silvaggio) who generates elements that are typically produced offstage, such as precipitation and sound effects. The Mute also acts as the wall between the neighbors' houses à la Pyramus and Thisbe - and that's just one of an uncountable number of literary and theatrical references in The Fantasticks, most of which are Shakespearean.

Other creative models are more contemporary; for example, dialogue in The Fantasticks was inspired by poetry of the Beat Generation. The play itself doesn't look particularly "Beat" - many good theatrical productions put their characters in states of disrepair - but there's the undeniable euphony of Beat in many portions, as in a snippet of a speech by El Gallo: "Try to see it - not with your eyes, for they are wise - but see it with your ears: the cool, green breathing of the leaves."

Syracuse Stage's production is composed of a treasury of talent. Amster's actors master his choreography during the "Abduction Ballet" scene, wherein El Gallo and his two cronies kidnap Luisa and feign defeat at Matt's hands. Emmy award-winner Norris commands attention as Henry, "The Old Actor," whenever he speaks. Studwell's baritone voice booms as El Gallo during the famous number "Try to Remember" and cooperates with Matt's equally capable singing during their duet, "I Can See It."

Marrero costumes the cast in excellent, eclectic garb. To name a few, El Gallo sports a swooshing cape, the fathers wear comfy-looking overalls and gardening gloves, Mortimer dresses as a pirate, and the Mute in her horizontal-stripe outfit looks like she came directly from an avenue in Paris.

Bradley's inspired set design also seems influenced by artistic references; in the beginning, El Gallo enters in front of a cloudy backdrop with a bowler hat and a green apple covering his face, much like the Magritte painting "The Son of Man." Later, when Luisa and Matt meet in the woods, The Mute "pulls" down another large backdrop of cubist-ish depictions of leaves. The wooden stage itself, though, remains true to the original Fantasticks - it looks flat and spare but is full of hidden openings for actors to scoot in and out of and to hold innovative props like musical instruments for the Mute to discreetly discover and sound off.

Behind that translucent backdrop of clouds, the musicians are visible. Nelson, also the show's conductor, plays the piano, and Deette Bunn plays the harp. Both manage to extract precisely the right emotion for the scenes through their playing, and together with the singers, they make the music in The Fantasticks downright touching. The story may be straightforward, but the message (or at least a simplified part of it) is significant: Evaluate your blessings with optimism.

There's also a horticulture motif throughout the story. Jones himself said of that device, "Whenever in doubt, I tried to put in something about vegetation and the seasons." Sounds a little like he's admitting it's a metaphor for the sake of metaphor, just as the mass of literary references seem to exist, at least partially, for the fun of it. But isn't that the point? Can't there be a show that's fun, through and through? Sure there can, and if its test-of-time success is any indication, The Fantasticks is it, and Syracuse Stage has captured the pleasure.

©Ithaca Times 2008