SAN DIEGO THEATRE SCENE
"CURTAIN CALLS"
By Pat Launer
03/24/04
This week, the stage was estrogen-fueled;
Chicks rocked, females ruled
(Though some were less than bona fide
--
like the one who's utterly
'Butterflied').
Some are Divas, some are shady;
A Spider Woman and a Gingerbread Lady.
Check out the parade of the Fairer Sex
And see who's real and who's Memorex!
FLOATS LIKE A BUTTERFLY
The play has been billed as "a story so bizarre it
could only be true." Inspired by a small piece he read in the New York
Times (May 1986), playwright David Henry Hwang created "M. Butterfly," which became the Tony Award-winning Best Play of 1988. The piece concerns
Gallimard, a French diplomat, who falls in love with Song Liling, a Chinese
opera star who personifies his fantasy of the delicate Asian female flower.
They have an affair that spans 20 years, after which Gallimard learns that Song
is a Communist spy -- and a man.
As strange as the tale is in dramatic form (Hwang also
wrote the 1993 screenplay, directed by David Cronenberg, starring Jeremy Irons
and John Lone), the true story is far more outrageous. So, here's the real
scoop.
The original (and genuine) cast of characters comprises
Bernard Boursicot, who was 20 in 1964 when he met Shi Peipu, age 26. Although
Shi had been a singer in the Peking Opera, Boursicot had never seen him
perform. Not only that, but he'd never
seen his lover dressed as a woman. Boursicot believed that Shi was brought up
as a boy because of family pressure about producing sons. Shi insisted that he
never told Boursicot he was woman; it was a misunderstanding he never corrected.
When they began having an affair, they made love
rarely, and only in the dark. Boursicot thought his lover's extreme sexual
shyness was Chinese custom. In 1965, Shi claimed to be pregnant. Several months
later, the infant Bertrand appeared (probably a black-market baby). Soon after,
Boursicot left China, but maintained contact with Shi for many years.
During the Cultural Revolution, Boursicot passed
classified French documents to the Chinese, in an effort to protect his lover
and son. In 1982, he managed to get Shi and Bertrand, then 16, out of China.
They came to Paris, where both "parents" were arrested for espionage.
During the trial, while Boursicot was in prison, he learned that Shi had been
identified as a man. For six months, he refused to believe it. Finally, when
they were placed in a small room together, Boursicot asked for direct evidence.
Shortly afterward, he slit his throat. Ever the loser, he survived, to become
the laughingstock of his country, which is how the play begins.
Both Boursicot and Shi served time in prison; both were
ultimately pardoned. When I last checked in on the story some years ago,
Boursicot had finally come out and was living with a gay lover; son Bertrand
was living with and supporting Shi, serving as his dresser. Contact among the three was at that time
rare, but no one had any regrets.
"When I believed it," Boursicot has said, "it was a
beautiful story."
That
intensity of belief is at the core of the play. Self-delusion. The degree to which
we seduce ourselves in love. Hwang's drama is also a deconstructed version of
Puccini's Madama Butterfly. The French diplomat (named Gallimard in the
play) fantasizes that he is Pinkerton and his lover is Butterfly. By the end of
the piece, we realize, as he finally does, that it is he who has played
the role of Butterfly: submissive, easily trapped, and
ultimately destroyed.
The play makes us re-think our
conceptions of love and Asians, men and women, American imperialism and ethnic
stereotypes. It's a powerful piece of theater, and it's powerfully presented in
a felicitous co-production of Diversionary Theatre and Asian American Repertory
Theatre. Needless to say, the themes of the play are near and dear to the
hearts of both companies.
It's a perfect
collaboration, facilitating sensitivity and avoiding pitfalls in terms of any
and all stereotypes. The black-hooded Kabuki kurogo dancers (Puay Kua,
Kathy Song) move noiselessly around the stage, serving as or handing out props.
At the outset, using fans, they portray a gliding butterfly, who moves upstage
before the action begins.
In this
version, there are fewer surprises than when I first saw the play over a decade
ago. Here, we pretty much know all along that Song is a man. Perhaps that was
intentional on the part of director Doren Elias, to show the intensity of
Gallimard's delusion. But there was much more of a thrill to the piece when the
truth was revealed to us late in the game, along with the hapless diplomat.
As Song, Diep
Huynh glides like a Butterfly and has effectively mastered the small, subtle
moves of a woman. But the makeup belies his identity from the get-go. Better
coverage (and maybe some mammary padding) would help us suspend disbelief for
the long stretches that we have to go along with Gallimard. Huynh gains
significant dramatic force and energy in the second act, and his transition
into Song's macho maleness is thrilling.
As for
Gallimard, if he's not a sympathetic, comprehensible (if clueless) character,
the play doesn't work. Jesse MacKinnon definitely rises to the occasion. He's
delusional, but we understand his needs, his unhappy marriage, his wish to be
adored like his womanizing friend Marc (Manuel Fernandes, in a very funny turn,
though it plays more American than French). MacKinnon's Gallimard is more
pitiful than laughable, and that really makes the production succeed. His
accent is also the best; the others are variable or nonexistent, and that seems
an odd directorial choice; there are folks from 4-5 countries/cultures
represented here and the consistently American accents are jarring.
Kim Miller is
wonderful as a kvetchy Suzuki (who's a comical, Asian Jewish-Mother) and as the
butch communist, Comrade Chin. The rest of the cast provides fine support in
Shulamit Nelson's apt costumes. The lighting and sound are well designed and
executed. But the set is often intrusive. While Amanda Stephens manages, on the
small Diversionary stage, to fit in the four segments/locales required (the
Peking Opera stage, Song's apartment, Gallimard's home and his prison cell),
the cutouts in the floor (for a pond and a mini-garden) are intrusive for the
actors (and the audience, who keeps watching them perch precariously over the
divots, hoping they don't fall in). Little to no use was made of these Asian
decorative effects (Melissa Fernandes' fall into the pond was unnecessary), and
they served to minimize the playing space and confine the movements of the
actors.
Quibbles
aside, this is a thoroughly successful collaboration and a winning production.
The story is so compelling, so incredible, and the play so theatrically varied
and fascinating, the effect is mesmerizing.
ONE GINGERBREAD LADY, ON THE ROCKS
Neil Simon.
King of the One Liners. Script doctor to the stars. He's often thought of as a
one-liner himself, but after his first string of 1960s laugh-riots, he tried to
venture into serious territory with "The Gingerbread Lady"
(1970). Audiences had a hard time with it. And it seemed that Simon himself
wasn't thoroughly comfortable with 'seriosity.'
In the play,
he's taken on the not-so-funny topic of alcoholism, which is even less funny in
2004 than it was in 1970. He starts the piece in his usual, breezy way, with
comical characters (some of them rather stereotypical) making rapid entrances
and exits -- a flirtatious Latino delivery boy, a queeny fading actor, a Jewish
American Princess whose only concern is her face cream and clothes. And… the
eponymous centerpiece, a has-been chanteuse who's just gotten released from 10
weeks of rehab; her too-young, nasty musician ex-boyfriend; and her
ever-patient, angelic, "child is father to the man" teenage daughter.
Except for the teen, this is a pack of hopeless losers. And despite fine
performances, we don't really care that much about any of them. The play
doesn't seem to be making much of a point. And, in watching Evy fall off the
wagon and go on a serious bender, we feel decidedly uncomfortable, as if we're
co-conspirators, enablers, encouraging her downfall by laughing at her
sad-funny, self-deprecating quips. Will she ever stay sober? Will she ever grow
up? Simon leaves it up in the air. But throughout it all, the wisecracking
never stops. It's no wonder this isn't one of his more-produced plays, he who
is considered the most-produced playwright in America. It's not clear that this
is the right play or the right time. But Renaissance artistic director George
Flint usually has his reasons. And he certainly has casting acumen.
The company
is stellar. The juicier characters even get to take an emotional journey. This
includes Jim Strait as hilariously fey Jimmy, and Jill Drexler, perfectly
lovely as the looks-obsessed Toby. In the one-note roles, Landon Vaughn has
just the right bad-boy look for the malicious musician, Jesus Garcia is a find
as the (un-PC) delivery guy and Amanda Sitton is adorably eager and saintly as
the daughter. In the juiciest role of all, Sandra Ellis-Troy is a force of
nature. This is the ghastly flip-side of the expansive Auntie Mame character
she inhabited several years back at North Coast Rep. Her humor, her sexuality
and especially her frighteningly real drunk scene are spectacular.
Jeanne
Reith's costumes are deliciously '70s and Karen Filijan's lighting spotlights
all the right moves. The set (Marty Burnett) doesn't really resemble any West
Eighties brownstone I've ever seen; it lacks the Old World elegance gone to
seed; it just looks seedy and streaky.
Flint's
direction is terrific. The pace and timing are impeccable. The piece moves at
breakneck speed, and drags us along on its downhill journey. But the play is
missing a heart and a core; in its desperate efforts to be both a comedy and
drama, it manages to be uncomfortably, unsatisfyingly neither.
ARACHNO-MANIA
It's got quite
a pedigree. Manuel Puig's potent political novel, "Kiss of the Spider
Woman," set in an unnamed South American country, was first published
in Spain (under the title, El Beso de la Mujer Arana) in 1976, the year
of Argentina's military coup. The English translation became available in the
U.S. in 1979 and inspired a slew of adaptations. The movie version (1985)
garnered a Best Actor Oscar for William Hurt, who played Molina, and nurtured
the career of Raul Julia in the role of Valentín.
Puig reframed
his novel for the stage in 1985. The musical version was a collaboration begun
in 1988 with the composing team of John Kander and Fred Ebb, director Harold
Prince and writer Terrence McNally. Puig never lived to see this final
incarnation of his provocative creation; he died of a heart attack during gall
bladder surgery in 1990, at age 58. The musical premiered on Broadway in 1993
(it had already captured the London Evening Standard Drama Award for Best
Musical the year before) and won seven Tony Awards, including Best Musical and
Best Musical Score. The title role was inaugurated by Chita Rivera, later
played by Vanessa Williams. A Best Actor Tony went to Brent Carver in the role
of Molina.
6th
@ Penn Theatre is the perfect venue for this pitch-perfect production of the
play. The two protagonists are cramped in a prison cell; we feel the
confinement in the close, intimate space. The dialogue, interactions,
confrontations and intimations are searing, claustrophobic, extremely intense.
The potent piece is all about the conflict between power and sex, revolutionary
politics and repressed/expressed sexuality.
Valentín
Arregui Paz and Luis Alberto Molina are polar opposites, one a flaming,
apolitical queen, a window-dresser accused of molesting a minor; the other a
macho revolutionary who's suppressed his sensual side to serve the political
Cause. Their realities are mutually exclusive. Valentín studies Marxism. Molina
colors his world with images of the silver screen. Ultimately, it is the retold
stories of the movies that help keep both of them sane. And over time, they
each find themselves, in a profound, human sense.
In their respective times, the novel, the play, and the film were
considered breakthroughs. Little had been written in the major media about
homosexuality or the plight of political prisoners in South America. This was
especially true at a time when the U.S. government was sponsoring and training
right-wing military regimes in Chile, Argentina, Brazil and other countries in
the region. But the relevance remains.
The political prisoner Valentín has been held without charges for
almost three years, under 'emergency' Presidential authority that smacks of the
situation in Guantanamo today. His gay cellmate has been sentenced to eight
years for a sexual offense that would have earned a light punishment --
probably not even imprisonment -- for a straight person. The double standard is
alive and well in our country, too, as is the gradual erosion of civil
liberties under the Patriot Act.
In his director's notes, Doug Hoehn also points out the repressive
social order promoted and perpetuated in Hollywood movies -- the sexist view of
women in society, the model of beauty and subservience it perpetuates. This is
the standard by which Molina, who considers himself a woman, has defined
himself. Valentín is a victim of repressive thinking as well; Marxism sees sex
as mere animal instinct, an obstacle to the revolution. Trapped together, these
two misguided men find some semblance of self-knowledge and mutual understanding.
It's a powerful creation -- in any medium.
Director Hoehn is also a playwright, critic, actor and producer.
His casting for this production is impeccable and his production fosters all
the intelligence and intensity the play demands. With his spidery, fluttery
hands and his nervous energy, Douglas Lay is magnificent as Molina, and
Giancarlo Ruiz is marvelous at bringing all the requisite energy, machismo,
anger and confusion to Valentín. Their grimy props and clothes could be even
grungier, but their battles and their intimate connection couldn't be more
heart-wrenching. Spectacular performances, absolutely not to be missed.
EVERY DIVA HAS HER DAY
Divas, divas
everywhere. Onstage, onscreen, on VH1. Now, Marion J. Caffey (who created
"Three Mo' Tenors" and last year, gave us "Cookin' at the
Cookery") has spread his wings and musical influence -- to bring us
"Three Mo' Divas" at the San Diego Repertory Theatre. Actually, it's
SIX divas, since the musical requirements of the show are considered to be
extensive enough (like "Love, Janis") to require two alternating
casts. Not to seem hierarchical in any way, he's called them Cast 1 and Cast A.
the night I was there, it was Cast A -- Henrietta Davis, Jamet Pittman and
N'Kenge Simpson-Hoffman.
There's no
storyline here, just an effort to show the wide range of musical styles that
African American women have made their own over the course of 400 years: opera, blues, jazz, gospel, spiritual,
Broadway and soul. This is, admittedly,
a concert, not a musical. And, unlike the "Three Tenors," which
brings together already-established musical phenomena, this show's trying to
showcase talented singers in the hopes of creating some real divas. And
there are many diva-delights in this evening of song.
All six of
the women have had classical training, but in each cast, there's one who's more
operatic than the others. In Cast A, it was Henrietta Davis, who knocked our
socks off with her opening arias, but had a lot more trouble making the
transition into the other musical styles. She's a clear example of the frequent
observation that many opera singers don't easily, naturally cross over to
popular music. Her version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" was so
earnest and portentous, it was nearly laughable. This wasn't the best choice
for her. But she did an excellent job with the traditional spiritual "The
Trouble I've Seen" and her scat-singing in "All of Me" was
really fine.
The other two
singers were enormously versatile, had a lot more cheeky playfulness and musical
flexibility. And each had several knockout numbers. Janet Pittman has a clear,
pure voice, and a wonderful way with show-tunes. Her rendition of "Your
Daddy's Son," from Ragtime, was especially beautiful.
Simpson-Hoffman rocked the house with "Miss Celie's Blues,"
"Minnie the Moocher" and "Fascinatin' Rhythm." Every number
she did was a showstopper. The R&B/soul/Motown section was amusingly retro
in style, but there was a lot of Diana Ross, a little Chaka Khan and a noticeable
lack of Aretha.
When two or
three sang together, the harmonies were gorgeous. But with such powerful
voices, why, I wonder, did they have to be amplified in a not-that-big theater
venue? It seemed unnecessary, especially if these divas aren't performing eight
times a week. Their costumes were a brash combo of elegance and sauciness
(Simpson-Hoffman especially pulled this off, with her zoot suit and sexy-flirty
ways). And speaking of combos, the band was killer, with conductor Joseph
Joubert especially outstanding on piano.
The set and
lighting (Dale Jordan) are evocative -- large panels of wood carving
reminiscent of chains. There was more suggestion of history and politics in the
set than the musical choices, though. Two glaring exceptions proved an odd
juxtaposition. "Strange Fruit," the gut-churning Lewis Allen song of
lynchings made popular by Billie Holiday, was gorgeously sung by Jamet Pittman,
contrapuntally paired with "Lament" (sung by Henrietta Davis). This
harked back to the dark history of African Americans in this country, and the
director/creator's note that these skilled singers have been "for the most
part, denied their rightful place by most opera companies." So, in view of
all that, why, several songs later, did all the women sing a rousing rendition
of "America the Beautiful?" It didn't seem ironic, nor did it fit the
sentiment of the evening. And as a "salute to the troops," it was
just pandering PC.
Caffey's
direction kept the divas on a very tight rein. There was little room for them to
really cut loose and be themselves, which is what one would hope from a diva.
Often, they just stood facing the audience and sang. Simpson-Hoffman could have
used more flat-out choreography; she moved like greased lightning, but didn't
get enough opportunity to show her stuff. Everything seemed a bit too contrived
and mannered. Using the moving, anthemic "Ragtime" number, "Let
Them Hear You," as the theme of the evening was inspired, and it left the
audience with just the right message. Why we couldn't go out to the singing of
the divas or the playing of the fantastic band, rather than to recorded music
by other people, was beyond me.
TRIAL BY JURY
Just another friendly reminder: check out my 25-minute documentary,
"Trial by Fire: The Making of a Theater Professional" on
City-TV (cable channel 24 on Cox and Time-Warner) this week, the final lead-up
to the SDSU Design-Performance Jury on Friday, March 26, 9-2:30pm.
You can also see it streaming live on the internet (sandiego.gov/citytv).
The documentary focuses on the Design/Performance Jury, coming up
this Friday, in the Experimental Theatre on the campus of SDSU.
If you care about theater, acting, design, direction, you're sure
to learn something from observing this fascinating behind-the-scenes process
and discussion.
This year's jury will include Rosina Reynolds and Jordan Baker (the original third tall women in Edward Albee's play
of similar name). The play of note this year is Albee's
"Finding the Sun" and since the Theater Dept. has merged with
telecommunications and film, the third group will make its presentation on film
rather than as live theater. Watch the doc and then attend the 21st
annual Jury. You'll really enjoy it! Here are the final remaining times to
watch:
CITY TV (CABLE 24, Cox or Time-Warner)
It will also STREAM LIVE (sandiego.gov/citytv)
Wed. 3/24 at 6 PM and 7 PM
Thu. 3/25 at 6 PM
And now, for THIS WEEK'S 'DON'T
MISS' LIST
"Kiss of the Spider Woman" - spectacular performances, provocative play; at 6th @
Penn Theatre, final perfs Wed. 3/24, Sunday 3/28, Tuesday 3/30, Wed. 3/31.
"The Gingerbread Lady" -- wonderful ensemble work, delicious performances; serious Simon;
Renaissance theatre at Cygnet; through April 25.
"M. Butterfly" -- the most amazing (true) story ever told! Excellently co-produced
by Diversionary and Asian American Rep; at Diversionary Theatre, through May 8
"Two Sisters and a Piano" -- passion and politics from Pulitzer Prize-winner Nilo Cruz;
steamy story, provocative performances; on the Globe's Cassius Carter Centre
Stage, through April 11
"Ashes to Ashes" and
"The Lover" -- dark, cynical, enigmatic,
delicious; wonderful performances by Ron Choularton and Cristina Soria,
directed by Robert May… At 6th @ Penn Theatre, through April 4.
"Macbeth" -- just as dark, spooky, intense and supernatural as you'd expect
from Sledgehammer; it doesn't disappoint. At St. Cecilia's EXTENDED through
April 3
Spring has sprung -- and San Diego
theater is in full, glorious bloom!
©2004
Patté Productions Inc.