Arts & Culture
Jimmy Eat World
‘Emo’ was once considered a four-letter word, yet one of the founding bands of this genre, Jimmy Eat World (along with the likes of Rites of Spring, Sunny Day Real Estate and Braid), managed to give it staying power. From 1993 onward, the band that once did split 7” records with Jejune and Christie Front Drive has evolved into a Warped Tour member and is name-checked with Green Day and Taking Back Sunday. Taken aback by their success, the band has been seemingly cornered into re-creating and advancing this once fresh sound, moving it from its hardcore/punk roots into a bubblegum pop vocalists’ headbanger’s ball. In the process, Jimmy Eat World’s trademark sound, which began with 1999’s Clarity, shifted the majority of the vocals from Tom Linton’s scratchy emo-core rasp to Jim Adkins’ more pure tenor choirboy vox. Perhaps this was the switch that fixed Jimmy Eat World’s rising popularity, but at a heavy price. None of the once truly poignant words remain. On Chase This Light, the lyrics seem bled dry of anything heartfelt, the songs sliding from one to the next, not effortlessly, but unnoticeably. Gone are the days of the intense but admirable balance of adrenaline-bomb hooks and dramatic epics with electronic noodling (innovative in its day). This stagnant direction is surprising, since their last release in 2001 had them leaning back to their grittier Static Prevails days. Only “Firefight” and “Feeling Lucky” recall the band’s original sound. Venturing into new territory, “Gotta Be Somebody’s Blues” gives off a smoke-machine, Def Leppard vibe with its excessive strings and over-produced vocals. Even Jim Adkins’ contribution – “Carry You,” from his side project Go Big Casino, and which could be said to be more true-blue – still sounds contrived and will soon be Muzak. Was it foresight that almost ten years ago on Clarity’s “Your New Aesthetic,” Adkins sang, “We’re lowering the standard in a process selective / the formula is too thin / but it takes more than one person / so everyone jump on / I’ll miss you when you’re just like them”?
Nov 1st, 2007 by Erin Wolf
James Luther Dickinson
As producer and musician, Jim Dickinson has had a hand in masterpieces by Aretha Franklin, The Rolling Stones, The Flamin’ Groovies, Big Star/Alex Chilton, Ry Cooder, The Replacements and Bob Dylan – not to mention raising his sons, The North Mississippi All Stars. As a solo artist, Dickinson released his debut in 1972 (the classic Dixie Fried) and waited thirty years before following it up. Reminds me of a joke my grandpa used to tell about “a long time between drinks.” Dickinson has picked up the pace significantly since; Killers From Space is his third album since 2002. His choice in material and the very way he inhabits a tune go a long way to defining that particularly indefinable brand of Memphis strange. Ranging from Tin Pan Alley to blues to gospel to all-out rockers, Dickinson’s weathered vocals put the listener front-row-center to characters that may be down and out, but have more soul than they can handle. “I Need You” reveals menace that in lesser hands would be camp. Here its wheezy harmonica and piano interplay suggests the last gasp of Jay Hawkins at St. James Infirmary. Dickinson is a national treasure; he should be on a postage stamp.
Nov 1st, 2007 by Blaine Schultz
John Riepenhoff 5 Q
It’s not easy being green, which is why John Riepenhoff, owner and curator of the Green Gallery, established the third-floor Riverwest venue expressly for fresh, emerging artists in 2004. An art school graduate and painter himself, the now-25-year-old could relate. Riepenhoff is interested in social interaction between artists of all media. The space currently hosts a monthly Movie & Masala night for neighborhood filmmakers and sponsors a culturally conscious residency program to align local and global artists, launched by the Institute of Quotidian Arts and Letters this past spring. Between a hectic show opening and a weeklong trip to London’s Frieze Art Fair, John squeezed in our five questions. Keep up with him at thegreengallery.tk. What paved your way from art student to gallery owner/curator? Even as a student, I would question for what and for whom art was made, so exploring the gateway from the artist’s hands to the public arena was a natural progression. Running a low-maintenance space — using a model similar to DIY rock house venues — eased my start, and the playfulness of the artists I exhibited directly elevated the gallery. The more artists and gallerists I met locally and nationally, the more I realized the significance of the Milwaukee art community; that still motivates me to continue the Green Gallery project, and to experiment with methods of showcasing art and encouraging local artists. How do your personal tastes and values guide the Green Gallery cut? The artists who show are ones that surprise me; they are making art that says “things are exciting right now” in a new way, or they are creating interesting situations that don’t yet have a venue but should. They are commenting on the conditions of art and popular culture in a way similar to a writer by critiquing aspects of experience and history, and by offering some alternatives. I like these traits in people, too. I like the meta. What are the highs and lows of your role? I get to meet so many creative and amazing individuals, and get to be a part of their lives. Some of my all-time favorite artists are real people that I helped reach a broader audience! Supporting and empowering artists by stimulating discussion and exposing their ideas to receptive audiences is a real high. Building, sanding, painting, cleaning and fixing the space are all of the lows that make the highs feel better-deserved. What makes Milwaukee a good home for art? In Milwaukee, people can find time for their own projects without having to pay inflated rent that many of the (other) art centers around the country indoctrinate. The art community here is small enough that one can find help for his or her projects in friends and acquaintances, as well as find other projects that might be a perfect showcase of her or his talent. I like to think that we Milwaukeeans can commit to our own personal voices without being distracted by the pettiness of mainstream […]
Nov 1st, 2007 by Amber Herzog
Union Forever
It’s an unseasonably hot October afternoon in Greendale, and Abraham Lincoln and Ulysses S. Grant are holding a press conference. Looking appropriately pallid and drawn, Lincoln dabs at his brow and scans the crowd, patiently awaiting the next question. Minutes pass. Flies plow through the humid air. People shuffle their feet uncomfortably and General Grant looks like he’s going to pass out. Finally, a doughy, middle-aged man in Packers-flavored Zubaz raises his hand and breaks the silence. “Mr. President,” he begins. “Which battle of General Grant’s recent campaign do you feel has been most important for the Union?” Lincoln clears his throat and starts to answer, but his words are lost on me (something about Pittsburgh?) My brain – usually a finely furnished warehouse of post-collegiate knowledge and Full House trivia – is currently nothing more than an aching, throbbing, hung-over mess from the night before. Now, half-asleep in an overcrowded barn, listening to the Great Emancipator himself yammer on about an ancient, tide-turning battle (Vicksburg?), the events of the past 24 hours begin to blend together. One second it’s “We will never forget the sacrifices of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania,” the next it’s “I now pronounce you husband and wife through the authority of the Universal Life Church of Modesto, California.” Eventually, the two men finish things up and the crowd breaks into applause, snapping me back to the re-enacted reality at hand. I’m at the 4th Annual Civil War Encampment at Trimborn Farm, located in charming Greendale, Wisconsin – a five-minute drive from the Southridge Olive Garden. It’s a quaint event, and not nearly as kitschy as one might expect: basically a home-brewed Renaissance Fair with slightly more historical significance and a lot less jousting. As always, I’m accompanied by my long-suffering girlfriend, who, like myself, finds any event whose itinerary includes the words “Press Conference with Abraham Lincoln & General Ulysses S. Grant in the Threshing Barn” simply too good to pass up. Leaving the confines of the Threshing Barn behind, we take in the sights. Horses stand tethered to trees near a clutch of Union tents and lean-tos on the farm’s west end. The Confederate camp lies 100 yards to the east, just beyond a stone root cellar and an entirely authentic Cousins Subs cart. Barefoot children in Huck Finn suspenders dart past period-costumed women tending to small pit-fires across from a dilapidated pump house. A vintage baseball team playing sans gloves – The Milwaukee Cream Citys BBC – puts on an exhibition near the Jeremiah Curtin House (free tours all year round!). The sound of snare drums and harmonicas is inescapable, and the air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and horse shit. We sit down in the grass near the main field for an infantry firing demonstration. As we watch the “troops” go through an endless series of formations and exercises (prompting one snot-nosed weasel to shout, “Start the war, already!”), I’m struck by the precision, the exactness, the reverence of their actions. It’s a […]
Nov 1st, 2007 by Matt Wild
The Art of Work
By Kerensa Edinger Milwaukee already has an art museum that in itself is a feat of engineering, but a museum dedicated to the art of engineering is another thing altogether. It may seem an anomaly, but we now have one of those, too. The new Grohmann Museum, on the campus of the Milwaukee School of Engineering (MSOE), is home to Man at Work: The Eckhart G. Grohmann Collection, the largest and most comprehensive of its kind. From agriculture to alchemy, coal mining to tax collecting, the approximately 700 paintings and sculptures display the vast breadth and evolution of human industry. With few exceptions, the artwork comes from the private collection of Dr. Eckhart Grohmann, an MSOE Regent, Milwaukee businessman and avid collector. Grohmann grew up in Germany, where he would often visit his grandfather’s marble processing business and quarry in Silesia (now part of Poland). In watching the stonecutters and sculptors toil to select and transform their raw materials, he developed an admiration for the beauty of work. To Dr. Grohmann, work is an essential, evolving aspect of human progress. Currently the chairman and president of Milwaukee’s Aluminum Casting and Engineering Company, which makes high-volume aluminum components for the automotive industry, Dr. Grohmann began his extensive art collection in the 1960s. Grohmann and his wife, Ischi, have long contributed to scholarships for MSOE students and donated funds to buy the property for the Kern Center, MSOE’s health and wellness facility, just a block from the museum. In the same philanthropic vein, Grohmann donated his collection for the purpose of establishing a museum and provided the funds to purchase and renovate the building that would house it. Constructed in 1924, the three-story, 38,000 square-foot concrete structure was home first to an automobile dealership, Metropolitan Cadillac, and then later occupied by the Federal Reserve Bank until 2004. To fit the needs of the Federal Reserve Bank, the building had relatively small windows and secure, anonymous entrances. MSOE purchased the structure in 2005; demolition and renovation began in September of 2006. Uihlein-Wilson, the project’s architects, kept the small windows –ideal for allowing in just enough light to preserve the delicate artwork – but replaced the corner of the building at Broadway and State with a glass cylindrical atrium capped by an open metalwork dome. Soaring over the museum’s entryway is the 700-square-foot mural, its two hemispheres, Vulcan’s Forge and Great Minds of History, linked by a spinning celestial wheel. Vulcan’s Forge reinterprets The Element of Fire, a 16th-century painting by a student of Francesco Bassano that depicts the Roman god Vulcan forging arrows for his son Cupid while Venus, combing her hair with one breast demurely bared, looks on. For his mural, the German artist H.D. Tylle lifted these primary figures from their cluttered, gloomy backdrop and set them against a simple landscape of rolling hills and blue sky. He used live models and new costumes to paint the figures, transforming the placid, stylized originals into striking creatures of flesh and blood. The […]
Nov 1st, 2007 by Vital Archives
Recalling the Wisconsin Idea
By Barry Wightman A century ago there was a political agenda known as the “Wisconsin Idea.” As Sanford D. Horwitt, author of Feingold: A New Democratic Party, puts it, the idea at the center of then-nascent progressive political thinking “became widely known as shorthand for new, enlightened rational government that would rein in laissez-faire capitalism, invest in vastly expanded educational opportunities and infrastructure, and use the expertise at the University of Wisconsin to create pioneering programs to promote the health, safety and economic interests of ordinary workers and farmers alike.” One would be hard-pressed to argue with that agenda. Famed Wisconsin Governor and Senator, Robert M. La Follette, one of Russ Feingold’s political heroes, personified the progressive Wisconsin Idea. And understanding La Follette is key to understanding our current senator. Having read La Follette’s autobiography as a high school student, Feingold was steeped in the progressive tradition. Simply put, true progressives believe in competence, community and thrift and are fervently against the power of big money and behind-the-scenes influence. With roots in the Northern European traditions of many of Wisconsin’s 19th century settlers, progressives cover a wide political spectrum that, in today’s terms, is neither red-state nor blue-state. And it is that pragmatic, party boundary-crossing approach that is central to Feingold’s politics. Progressivism as a coherent political movement is largely forgotten, its tenet planks scattered among the dusty platform statements of the two major parties of the 20th century. But Feingold is, by the historic definition, a progressive. Asked about the prospect for a progressive revival in 21st century America, Feingold was hopeful. Saying that his hero Bob La Follette would be “passionate” about today’s possibilities, Feingold is clearly working to speak for the independent, pragmatic and public-minded of Wisconsin. Those are not the words of cautious man. Feingold’s habit of confounding the leaders of the Democratic Party establishment would have been familiar to “Fighting Bob” La Follette. Feingold’s was the lone vote against the Patriot Act in 2001 and he was one of the few to vote against the authorization for war against Iraq in 2002. He was also the only Democrat to vote to continue the Senate Clinton impeachment proceedings in 1998 – a very unpopular position, at least among Democrats. And with Republican maverick John McCain, he has consistently championed campaign finance reform, attempting to drive corrupting big money from the national political process. Feingold, Horwitt writes, can be counted on to vote for reform, not to play it safe. As a result, Feingold frequently tangles with his more cautious contemporaries. His 2002 public dust-up with Senator Hillary Clinton on campaign finance – she claimed he wasn’t living in the “real world” – rocked the party boat, as did the recent failed Feingold-Reid Senate bill to end the Iraq war. Many Democrats veered away from him. But Feingold remains undeterred, going about the business of serving his state and nation unbowed by what some might perceive to be political failures. In speaking about the war at one […]
Nov 1st, 2007 by Vital Archives
Bruce Springsteen
Bruce Springsteen’s career has been truly beyond reproach. Even those who aren’t fans have to acquiesce to the fact that he’s the definition of integrity in a business that thrives on the opposite. And while his popularity may have waned in the nineties, he still created provocative music that meant something both to him and to his audience. This is evidenced by recent releases from a number of young artists mining his sound and his aesthetic. Ah, but they could never be the real thing. And here in his 24th year of recording, Bruce produces yet another finely-crafted testament to his “Boss” title. Magic contains the most direct and immediate collection of rock music Bruce has put out since Born in the U.S.A. in 1984. The saxophone, the piano and the rest of the E Street Band are back in full regalia on songs like “Livin’ In The Future” and “I’ll Work For Your Love.” The driving rhythms, melodies and narratives are also back, particularly on “Last to Die.” But Bruce doesn’t stop there: on the title track he displays the entire spectrum of his talents as a creator. “Girls In Their Summer Clothes” is as innocent as it is wistful. And though it may turn some people off, there are also a number of songs that touch upon his acoustic, rootsy leanings, sparse and epic. Bruce makes albums that are the equivalent of audio novels. They tell stories, weave descriptions, paint landscapes and define characters. But he also always gives us a little prize wrapped in the theme of it all: the emotional resource that compels us to be the authors of our own existence. “Love (and attitude) is a power greater (and stronger) than death” he sings in his tribute to a deceased friend on the hidden track 12, “Terry’s Song.” Yep, that’s the magic.
Nov 1st, 2007 by Troy Butero
How do you measure ten years?
It was almost an overnight success — an iconic piece of Broadway that infected the hearts and minds of thousands. Personally, I don’t see the appeal. I tend to agree with Cintra Wilson who once described it as “Cats with AIDS.” Think of it what you will, there is no denying the fact that Rent is now over a decade old. The fact that people are still performing it means that people are still seeing it. It came to the Milwaukee Theatre this past weekend on its way to Illinois, Louisiana and a host of other engagements. In spite of little advance publicity and almost no advertising, opening night was well attended. I was there. I was in college when Rent debuted Off-Broadway, and I am only a few years younger than Rent’s writer/composer Jonathan Larson. The costuming, set design, and overall visual aesthetics of the original musical, which are maintained in the touring production, came from the mid-nineties. It’s a look which will live on for decades to come in subsequent productions long after contemporary fashion has rendered them silly and antiquated. With its continued success and barely wavering popularity, Rent is my generation’s Hair. Seeing an audience filled with high schoolers feels strange. These kids were in grade school when Rent debuted. They’re watching Rent the same way my generation watched mid-80s John Hughes movies like The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles. They’re seeing a freshly-minted retro-pop-culture beginning its slow, steady march into nostalgia, then old age. They don’t know people like the characters in Rent. They will have to wait at least another ten years to see bizarrely romanticized musical theatre versions of people they knew ten years ago singing and dancing onstage. Rent still has that distinctive feel of genuinely good core music that’s been shellacked to a disturbingly glossy sheen. If you happen to be into that sort of thing, the show still holds up remarkably well. Jed Resnick and Heinz Winckler open the show as Mark Cohen and Roger Davis — a filmmaker and a musician living in a questionable apartment in New York. Anwar F. Robinson (evidently of American Idol fame) stars as their friend Tom Collins. The plot, a series of isolated events hazily woven into a central story, is about as coherent as it was a decade ago. There are singular moments that feel reasonably timeless – there’s still quite a bit of power in “Seasons of Love,” for instance –but some of it feels dated. It’s surreal to hear the audience “moo” at the appropriate moment in “Over the Moon,” as though they were all programmed to do so, and when the characters sing of dreams of opening a restaurant in “Santa Fe,” the production enters a time warp. A number of people from my generation went to New Mexico to pursue their dreams and ended up lost somewhere between the mesa and Burning Man, never to return. For the right people, this is a pleasant trip to big Broadway […]
Oct 30th, 2007 by Russ Bickerstaff
Seven Guitars
By Jill Gilmer Who would believe that backyard banter could capture the soul of an entire people struggling to realize their dreams in the wake of economic and political oppression? This was the ambitious goal of August Wilson’s elegantly-written Seven Guitars, which opened University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee’s fall season Tuesday night. Seven Guitars is part of the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright’s 10-play series, “The Pittsburgh Cycle.” The series explores the African American experience by peeking into the hearts and minds of working class blacks in Pittsburgh during each decade of the 20th century. Seven Guitars takes place in 1948 in the backyard of town gossip Louise following the funeral of Floyd Barton, a charismatic guitarist and ladies’ man. Floyd’s freshly-successful musical career was cut short when he was imprisoned for a minor offense and later mysteriously murdered. Through a 3-hour flashback, Louise and her neighbors recount Floyd’s life through his relationship with the other six cast members. The most significant of these characters are Hedley, a West Indian chicken sandwich vendor who appears to be teetering on insanity; Vera, Floyd’s plain-Jane girlfriend whom he abandoned to run off with a woman he claims believed in his dreams more deeply; and Canewell, Floyd’s fellow band-member and friend. The play is as much poetry as prose. Its somber social messages seep into our hearts gently and unexpectedly through humor and music. But while poetry and lightness give this play a more hopeful, upbeat quality than some of Wilson’s plays, it is not enough to offset an almost unbearably tedious first act. The UWM student cast does a commendable job with this difficult material, but it lacks the maturity needed to capture the passion in these complex characters – essential to keeping the audience focused during the passages of rambling dialogue. The Generation Y ensemble may have had difficulty connecting with the language and lifestyle of the 1940s. A notable exception was David R. Weaver, Sr., who plays Hedley, an older character. Hedley’s nearly constant state of rage offers a bridge between the frustrations that blacks faced in the 1940s and the anger beneath the violent crime plaguing many inner city neighborhoods today. The younger male characters were most convincing when they described their encounters with the justice system. When one of them stated, “I was arrested for being worthless,” he seemed to be giving voice to the agony of the current generation of African American males, which is experiencing grossly disproportionate rates of incarceration. Other notable performances were Leandra Renaa Williams as Ruby, Louise’s frisky mantrap niece, and Stephanie Roland as a nicely underplayed Louise. Louise’s deadpan lines might tempt many an actress to become a scene robber. The play’s shortcomings are partially corrected by a warm and inviting set, lovingly crafted by Bruce Brockman, and dramatic lighting by Stephen Roby White. Director Bill Watson may have missed an opportunity to soften the dialogue through greater use of music, as some other productions of Seven Guitars have done. Music would have tapped into the […]
Oct 30th, 2007 by Vital Archives
A Vision Defined
Nov. 3 – Dec. 1 Opening Reception: Nov. 3, 6-9pm A year ago, Whole Foods Market opened to much hoopla and artist Matthew Kirk’s work was selected to add some “local flavor” to the sprawling food emporium. The installation of his work, arranged by Hotcakes Gallery proprietor Mike Brenner, went off without a hitch. It was removed shortly thereafter. Whole Foods explained “it didn’t fit Whole Foods’ Corporate image.” However, it is a good match for Hotcakes, a gallery at 3379 N. Pierce St. in Riverwest, known for innovative and quality exhibits. Kirk’s solo event, his second at this venue, opens with a reception on Saturday, November 3, and runs through December l. In his artist statement for hotcakesgallery.com, he says he “makes pictures to convey the sense of loss and aimlessness that I feel from growing up in a society that has only one vision, and one place, for what an American Indian is, or should be.” His biography notes he was born in Arizona on a Navajo Indian reservation. But need we feel sentimental about that? Painting a Hat, 1914. Edward Curtis. I’ve seen the paintings and prints of Karl Bodmer and George Catlin, and nostalgic photographs by Edward Curtis, and though they depict American Indians, the makers of the art are non-Indians on what smacks of a sentimental journey. However, the images are gorgeous and are important in the history of art making. In the Milwaukee Art Museum’s Bradley Collection, there used to be (and I hope there still is), a painting (Untitled, 1976) by Fritz Scholder, the first artist to paint American Indians surrounded by flags, beer cans and cats – a big leap from the formal portraits produced by Curtis in the early twentieth century. Scholder’s work intrigued me, not because he was an American Indian, or because his painting depicts an American Indian. What intrigued me was his bold palette and broad painterly strokes, so typical of the unfettered art world of the ’70s. Indian in the Snow, 1972. Fritz Scholder. A few years ago, I saw the paintings of Shonto Begay at the Phoenix Art Museum. His website identifies him as a Navajo artist with a Bachelor of Fine Arts from California College of Arts and Crafts, practicing since 1983. I emailed him about the Hotcakes exhibit and asked for permission to use one of his images. He replied thusly: “I have no problem helping a fellow Navajo showing far from home or anywhere … It is an interesting situation being a Native visual artist, and how we view ourselves. Marginalized and anthro material even in our most creative and free expression. Anyway, Curio or not, we love what we do and hope to continue.” “Curio. Marginalized and anthro material.” Kirk and Begay have never met, but it sounds like they share similar thoughts about “loss and aimlessness.” Kirk’s artist statement expands on this by saying it comes from “growing up in a society that has only one vision, and one place, for […]
Oct 29th, 2007 by Judith Ann Moriarty
Internet killed the video star
Kimberly Miller could be seen as a backward artist in a digital world where YouTube, Metacafe, and Google are the standard mediums of delivery for video art. But due to the omniscient control of the internet viewer, a piece of experimental art or an installation viewed online is kind of safe. It doesn’t help that some of Miller’s pieces incorporate a live element, requiring her to be present. But what is conveyed is so much stronger in person than when someone is home alone, crouched in front of a monitor. While it’s not easy to describe or interpret her work, the viewer always feels something, however ineffable. More questions are raised than answered. If you were having a conversation with Miller she might say “It’s like, you know?” Then you say, “Yeah. It’s all …you know?” This Friday, October 26, at 7 p.m., Kimberly Miller will present selected works on film at Woodland Pattern, where she is hosted and spotlighted by friend and filmmaker Sarah Buccheri. The presentation of selected works and the reception that follows will give the audience a better chance to ask questions and negotiate with Miller regarding her art – which is exactly what she wishes to encourage with her body of work. VS: Is the presentation Friday reflective of what you’re currently working on, or a collective of past and present work? Kimberly Miller: The screening on Friday will show a selection of my video work from the past few years, including a video I made last week. The work represented will be a section of videos and performances-for-the-camera. There will be a live performative element as well, but a bit of a toned-down one. The emphasis will be on the videos. So on a scale of performance from subtle to Vegas-style flashiness: Sequins and glitter? Maybe. Live doves or flying daggers? Probably no. VS: What is your artistic purpose? KM: In my work I’m trying to … grasp certain things, figure them out. What, if any, role can art play beyond cultural production? Does art have the ability to affect change? Is there such a thing as a radically democratic art experience, and if so, what does it look like? Does action determine the actor, is identity determined by what we do, what we say, some combination thereof? I don’t know the answers to these or any other questions, really, but I’m interested in reframing them again and again and attempting to put out some kind of response to the questions. VS: Why did you choose these mediums to convey them? KM: The forms of video and performance are structured within and around language, and for me this is a place where public and private may intersect. Language is public because it is shared; our conception of language is shaped by its use. Yet each of us must come to an individual understanding of language. Language shapes meaning, and may be a place where viewer and artist meet. I try to establish certain parameters […]
Oct 25th, 2007 by Brian Jacobson
Talking Heads
Angela Iannone in Talking Heads Alan Bennett’s Talking Heads, a series of six monologues, was so succesful in its incarnation on BBC television that it is living another life in live theatre. Milwaukee Chamber Theatre brings these monologues to the stage in two alternating programs at the Broadway Theatre’s main stage this month. The show opened with a performance of Series A — the all female show. In the first monologue, set in sparse domesticity suggestive of the mid-1980s, attractive actress Lesley (Wendy Bazar) relates landing a marginal role in a marginal film solely because of her physical attributes. It’s a clever bit of comedy revealing the true depth lying dormant in a woman who seems to be genuinely shallow, and what Bazar lacks in presentation (her accent, presumably meant to be British, wavered somewhere between that, Scottish and Irish, and occasionally Southern) she makes up for with a charming presence that nearly carries the monologue. The second monologue in Series A, “A Lady Of Letters,” features Raeleen McMillion as a lonely old woman named Irene whose civic-mindedness has reached obsessive levels. She’s writing letters to public officials about every conceivable inefficiency and flaw and casting a concerned eye toward house of the young couple that has moved in next door. McMillion carries Bennett’s repetitious monologue with a captivating performance that easily pulls the show through to intermission. Still, it is unfortunate that Bennett stretched this one out longer than it deserved. Certain plot points are repeated in an apparent attempt to pad out the monologue, and while the character is interesting, Bennett does not delve into her personality enough to keep the monologue fresh for its complete cycle onstage. The show returns after intermission with Angela Iannone in “Bed Among the Lentils.” Iannone, who has shown considerable talent for monologue, plays Susan, a vicar’s wife. Strikingly articulate, Susan is recognized solely for her status and otherwise rarely gets any attention. Here she speaks to the audience in clear stream of consciousness, relishing the opportunity to speak about whatever she wants. Iannone seems to enjoy the role a great deal, delivering Bennett’s humor with soulfully precise comic timing. A particularly busy weekend for openings didn’t allow for review of Series B, which includes performances by Laurie Birmingham, Norman Moses and Milwaukee Chamber co-founder Ruth Schudson. VS Milwaukee Chamber Theatre’s production of Talking Heads runs through November 4 at the Broadway Theatre Center’s Cabot Theatre. Tickets can be purchased in advance by calling the box office at 414-298-7800 or online at www.chamber-theatre.com.
Oct 23rd, 2007 by Vital Archives
