2007-08 Vital Source Mag – August 2007
Bad Religion
“We’re animals with golden rules/Who can’t be moved by rational views/Welcome to the new dark ages.” Iraq’s a mess, our civil liberties are eroding and Scooter Libby was basically pardoned. Leave it to six years of an oppressive Republican regime to light a fire under Bad Religion’s ass. Anyone who’s heard a Bad Religion song, much less an entire album, knows what to expect from New Maps of Hell: hyper-intelligent lyrics, dramatically gorgeous vocal harmonies and punk riffs that spawned legions of imitators who took more time explaining what their songs were about than actually playing them. But to criticize Bad Religion for not evolving over the years would be a futile exercise; one may as well complain that AC/DC has recorded the same album 18 times. While other bands would be accused of having run out of ideas, New Maps of Hell feels more like re-visiting a favorite book, if that book were Dude, Where’s My Country? Ironically, as solid as the formula tracks are, it’s when the band changes things up a bit that we find the standout cuts – notably the single “Honest Goodbye,” which uses a thundering mid-tempo verse to anchor a sugar-coated hook. Closing track “Fields of Mars” does the same thing using piano while fantasizing about a time when we can get off this rock, away from the Neanderthals running the show. But how fun woul these guys be if they were happy? If you’re not already a Bad Religion fan, you could pick a worse starting point than this. After all, it’s important for us Americans to familiarize ourselves with our most venerable institutions. VS
Aug 1st, 2007 by DJ Hostettler
August 2007
August 7th Peter Case Let us Now Praise Sleepy John Yep Roc Kat DeLuna 9 Lives Epic Drowning Pool Full Circle Eleven Seven Music Fuel Angels and Devils Epic June Make it Blur Victory Grace Potter and The Nocturnals This is Somewhere Hollywood The Pretty Things Balboa Island Zoho Music August 14th Peter Cincotti East of Angel Town Warner Collective Soul AfterwOrds El Music Group Junior Senior Hey Hey My My Yo Yo Rykodisc Mae Singularity Capitol Lori McKenna Unglamorous Warner Bros. Matt Nathanson Some Mad Hope Vanguard The Seldom Scene Scenechrnized Sugar Hill Linda Thompson Versatile Heart Rounder Turbonegro Retox Cooking Vinyl Paul van Dyk In Between Mute August 21st Adema Kill the Headlights Partnership/Immortal Architecture in Helsinki Because I Love It Columbia Peter Buffett Staring at the Sun BeSide Earlimart Mentor Tormentor Majordomo/Shout! Foreign Born On the Wing Now Dim Mak Idiot Pilot Wolves Reprise Minus the Bear Planet of Ice Suicide Squeeze The New Pornographers Challengers Matador Rilo Kiley Under the Blacklight Brute/Beaute/Warner Nikki Sixx The Heroin Diaries Eleven Seven Music August 28th Atreyu Lead Sails Paper Anchor Hollywood Ben Harper & the Innocent Criminals Lifeline Virgin Kula Shaker StrangeFolk Sony Music Liars Liars Mute Lyle Lovett and His Large Band It’s Not Big It’s Large Lost Highway Meshell Ndegeocello The World Has Made Me the Man of My Dreams Decca Northern State Can I Keep This Pen? Ipecac
Aug 1st, 2007 by Erin Wolf
Your elbows on my knees
Say what you will about the wisdom of writing a monthly column that often features your deepest, darkest secrets (my affinity for The Gin Blossoms immediately comes to mind), but it’s incredibly heartwarming when, after a piece detailing a particularly devastating month hits newsstands, a complete stranger approaches you and says, “Sorry you’re having a shitty summer, man. Better luck next month.” It’s crystal-clear, razor-sharp moments like this that allow you to appreciate the simple, honest kindness of your fellow man, and momentarily forget that your shtick is about as fresh as a Dorf on Golf video. So what will you get when you bite into this month’s installment of SubVersions? Well, along with the usual soppy final paragraph and obscure Tim Conway references, you’ll get… Botched High School Reunions!! After weeks of icy stares and veiled death threats (see last month’s column), a strange light begins to beckon, promising to absolve my sins and return me to a different time – or, at the very least, take me out of Milwaukee for a weekend. I’m talking about my 11-year high school class reunion (hold for applause)! For reasons unknown, my graduating class couldn’t seem to get their shit together for a 10-year reunion, though a series of poorly-worded emails promises me that the 11-year will indeed be a hoot. For even more reasons unknown, I find myself giddy with anticipation during the weeks leading up to this sure-to-be epic soirée. So I prepare: I use a precious day of vacation (the reunion falls on a Friday); I get a haircut (The Cutting Group, natch); I ready any number of outright lies for the inevitable “What have you been doing for the past 11 years?” question (day trading, scuba diving, lion taming). Two days before the big event, however, I receive a short email from the class president: “The reunion has been cancelled due to lack of interest. Maybe next time.” It’s only a few minutes later that I start contemplating suicide-by-blowtorch for the following reasons: 1. I’m old enough to have an 11-year class reunion 2. I was actually excited about going to said reunion 3. Apparently, I was the only one that was excited 4. To clarify: I was actually fucking excited about going to my high school class reunion Life-Affirming Local Bands!! Being something of a recovering music snob with precious little free time (what with my side-career as a color commentator for tournament cribbage), I can only really bother myself with one or two local bands. One of those is The Candliers, whose recent crowd-pleasing show at the Riverhorse I was lucky enough to attend. In a perfect world, these fine folks would be headlining any number of cleverly named outdoor music fests, though I’ll stand by my conviction that their ideal venue (and I mean this in the best possible way) would be some sort of hipster-patronized Chuck E. Cheese. (Fun Fact! Chuck E. Cheese founder Nolan Bushnell also invented the Atari video game system, […]
Aug 1st, 2007 by Matt Wild
Smashing Pumpkins
This might not be the Smashing Pumpkins you remember from seven years ago—or, as seems more likely, from around 1995, when leader Billy Corgan symbolized the meld of artistic and commercial ambitions of alternative-rock as it went mainstream. Back then, the Pumpkins were really his baby, and Zeitgeist discards any pretense of a “band:” the credits state, “JIMMY CHAMBERLIN: DRUMS/BILLY CORGAN: ALL THE REST.” Chamberlin, once as famous for his addictions as for his drumming, remains Corgan’s reliably virtuosic ace of controlled frenzy. And Corgan remains one of rock & roll’s most grandiloquent noisemakers, layering tracks of guitars atop each other and trying to sing through it all in a voice that makes him sound as though he’s releasing an inner child driven to desperation by the captivity. Zeitgeist finds the child trapped in America—perhaps the biggest, most elusive subject possible for any native. Corgan pursues it in ways both oblique (the fiercely buzzing “Doomsday Clock” ) and direct (the black-metallic “United States” ), although his lyrics (“apocalyptic screams/mean nothing to the dead” ) are as cryptic as ever. When Corgan gets more personal, the lyrics and music get less remote: “That’s the Way (My Love Is)” drifts into tenderness and “Pomp and Circumstances” revives the earnest, synthesized lushness of 1980s ballads. Yet Zeitgeist fails to capture America, or indeed anything resembling its own title. Instead, it offers a mélange of distant memories of what used to be the Smashing Pumpkins. VS
Aug 1st, 2007 by Jon Gilbertson
Banging the drum, softly
It’s hard to believe that we’re coming up on the end of yet another summer that seemed to go by too fast. But whether we believe it or not, it’s true. August is upon us and for me, that always means two major events. The month begins with World Breastfeeding Week and ends with my youngest child, Jeffrey’s, birthday. This year, the two things seem very connected in my mind and in my heart. Jeffrey is turning seven this year and will be a second grader. He is definitely Big now, there is no denying it. He has spent his summer playing Pokemon cards, learning to ride his two wheeler and trying to perfect the spikes of his mohawk. He is still the cuddliest of all the cousins, offering hugs and kisses to everyone and making sure to yell “I love you,” before going outside to play. Even with all that, he’s no baby. As I get ready to celebrate World Breastfeeding Week with my usual circulation of petitions and rounds of emails about the rights of breastfeeding mothers and babies, I can’t help but look back fondly and a little over-sentimentally on my years as a nursing mama. It’s been a long, long time since I took a baby to the breast, but I remember it vividly. There are times when, as corny as it sounds, my arms actually ache to hold a baby close to my heart in that way. Since Jeffrey was my last baby, my focus returns again and again to the years we spent as a nursing duo. He was what’s known as a cluster feeder as an infant, meaning he would nurse every 15 or 20 minutes for a few hours and then sleep for a long time, sometimes five or six hours, even in the middle of the day. When he was actually nursing, he would offer his hand up to me for kisses and snuggle in close. As a nursing toddler, he liked to play a game he called “hide and nurse,” where he pulled whatever shirt I was wearing over his whole body while pushing himself as firmly into me as possible. Normally, when I write my column for August, I bang the drum of breastfeeding politics long and loud. I have covered the Nestle boycott, breastfeeding rights, the language of breastfeeding and several other hard-hitting issues. This year, however, I am feeling softer and more nostalgic. I am also a little bored with shouting the facts about the whys and wherefores of breastfeeding that we’ve all heard so often that even people without children can likely say them by rote. Instead, in tribute to Jeffrey’s seventh birthday and because I’m a big sap, I want to talk about my own personal motivations for breastfeeding. These are not to negate the solid science of health reasons; those go without saying and so don’t even make the top five. No, what follows is, as I said, personal. Not everything good is all […]
Aug 1st, 2007 by Lucky Tomaszek
Now I’m a believer…
Photos by Kevin C. Groen Hubbard Park Lodge 3565 N. Morris Blvd. Milwaukee, WI 53211 414-332-4207 Christopher Taube, now 28, hated high school. (Who didn’t?) He found it just plain BO-RING. (Who didn’t?) But instead of slogging it out like the rest of us, Taube just didn’t go. But life as a teenage dropout was far from glamorous. Restaurants offered him work – grunt work: shilling for Shoney’s restaurants in a bear suit, cleaning parking lots, dishwashing. These jobs made cooking look real good. And by the age of 15, Taube was doing just that, first for a variety of chain eateries and then as a line cook at Mangia in Kenosha. This taste of fine dining locked this adolescent Taube into a culinary career. Born in South Bend, Indiana, Taube’s family migrated from the Midwest to the Southwest. He spent his youth in Mesa, Arizona, the oldest of five children. “I had a healthy respect for food passed on by my mother – it was a very big part of us being a family together. I’m the cook of the bunch; no one else had interest in pursuing a career in restaurants and frankly I don’t blame them – you have to have a passion for this business or be crazy to work this many hours and do the things you’ve got to do to be successful, but there are those who could only survive in a kitchen.” The Taube family table was laden with All-American comfort foods, not to mention a lot of barbecue. Taube’s grandmother, who was from Tennessee and lived down the street, contributed Southern-style specialties like the iron skillet cornbread and beans that had fueled his coal miner grandfather. Says Taube, “I was always partial to sausage gravy – pour it on eggs and even over bacon. I was the designated sausage gravy guy except at grandma’s house.” Breakfasts were a family project and served as Taube’s training meal. As a kid he was flipping eggs on a flat griddle, learning how to keep the contents in the pan. Still, he considers himself a late bloomer in terms of his fascination with food. “For most of my life, food was a means to an end. Eat it and you’re full. It was not an integral part of my life.” A precocious and outspoken kid, the dropout was a great student, just not in a traditional educational structure. Learning (literally) by fire worked for him. Working a catering gig for Mangia, a bunch of sternos in a hot box exploded into mushroom clouds of black smoke. “There are pictures of me putting my head through a sheet pan. I never thought aluminum could burn like that!” Undaunted, Taube attended the Scottsdale Culinary Institute, a Cordon Bleu program associated with the renowned French academy. “I cooked all morning, went to school at night then got up early to open in the morning again.” No complaints, though. While in school and for a year after graduation, Taube worked […]
Aug 1st, 2007 by Cate Miller
Tegan and Sara
Like the “HeadOn: apply directly to the forehead” commercial, Tegan and Sara’s “Walking With a Ghost” (from 2004’s So Jealous) proved that repetition equals retention. The simplistic and cyclical single earned an EP dedication by The White Stripes; the Canuck twin songwriters took note. On The Con, “Walking With a Ghost”-equivalents “Back in Your Head” and “Hop A Plane,” which are filled with pop hooks like “every record between ’93 and ’97,” act as a safety net for exploration elsewhere. While royalty checks must be added security, thankfully this is not another album ripe with lackluster Grey’s Anatomy ballads. More mope than mush, “Knife Going In” and “Relief Next to Me” are unprecedentedly dark, dwelling on the loss of their “grama” and the insanity and loneliness that came with it. Though apart while writing, the sum of their individual contributions is consistent in both lyric and mood – twin telepathy? Death Cab For Cutie’s Chris Walla and Jason McGerr, The Con’s co-producer and drummer, respectively, make their presences known – if not blaringly obvious – through delicate electronics and calculated percussion. “Floorplan” and “Burn Your Life Down” are giveaways. “Nineteen,” “Call It Off” and the title track best meld the sisters’ aesthetic of earnestness and interwoven vocals with the collaborators’ marks, making those three songs particularly accomplished. When they aren’t adopting English accents on “Are you Ten Years Ago” or sounding like bingo callers on “Like O, Like H,” they put forth their most substantial material to date. If only it could speak louder than their damn undying scenester haircuts… VS
Aug 1st, 2007 by Amber Herzog
The Spitfire Grill
“Shoot the moon, life is hard and gone too soon,” sings Percy, Hannah and Shelby in The Spitfire Grill. Set in the north woods of Gilead, Wisconsin, this production was adapted from Lee David Zlotoff’s film. Fellow Wisconsinites Fred Alley, co-founder of American Folklore Theatre in Door County, and James Valcq, who started at the Skylight Theatre in Milwaukee, collaborated on the themes of hope and redemption. Those familiar with Alley’s music, including the often-produced Guys on Ice, will reconnect with some of the haunting lyrics in this piece of musical theater. Several include “A Ring Around the Moon,” “Wild Bird,” “Shine” and “Shoot the Moon,” which are all made more memorable by Valcq’s melodies. Brenda L. LaMalfa, who plays the poignant main character of Percy, captures each note perfectly. Her persona of the young girl being released from prison radiates every nuance. Struggling to create a new life, Percy is placed in Hannah Ferguson’s Spitfire Grill, the only restaurant in town. When Hannah breaks her leg, Percy and Shelby, another young woman imprisoned in a stifling marriage, carry the responsibilities of the grill as Hannah recuperates. But the town busybody, Effy, and Shelby’s husband, Caleb, complain as Percy continues to bring her rays of hope to Gilead. Throughout the two acts, every character tries to shoot the moon as secrets are revealed and light flickers through the windows of the Spitfire Grill once again. But full summer moonlight shines on this production. Elaine Rewolinski as the cantankerous Hannah acts with appropriate audacity while beautifully singing every measure. And only 18, Cherissse Duncan as Shelby is an admiral addition. But LaMaffa is a Percy the audience will remember, as even a faulty sound system during the first half refused to let her character or vocals dim. This trio enlightened the stage with a glow that gives life to Gilead, their performances enhanced further by live instrumental accompaniment. Acacia Theatre’s Spitfire Grill would make Valcq and Alley proud as it retains the spirit of their script and score. These were to be Alley’s last lyrics, and final time the two long time friends combined their talents. He was unable to receive the prestigious Academy of Arts and Letters Award for New American Musicals in 2001 that was given to this show as he died that spring of a heart attack, and for him life was indeed gone too soon. The tragedy of September 11 followed closely, and this musical resonated more deeply than ever as the then Skylight Opera produced the show the following fall. Six years later, the themes are ever timely and the ability to shoot the moon still illuminates hope. As the production continues until July 22, spend an evening in the light and shadows cast by this Spitfire Grill. VS The Spitfire Grill is presented by Acacia Theatre Company in the Todd Wehr Auditorium at Concordia University through July 22.For tickets or information call 414-744-5995 or visit www.acaciatheatre.com. .
Aug 1st, 2007 by Peggy Sue Dunigan
Bunny Rabbit In A Box Of Chocolates
As 8 p.m. neared on the night of July 21st, people milled about the Broadway Theatre Center. Casual conversation drifted through the lazy summer evening as show time approached. Alamo Basement had been at it for nearly 24 hours – writing and rehearsing the show that was about to make its debut that night. The Play In A Day concept is deliciously simple – get a group of people together (playwrights, actors, etc… ) and give them 24 hours to develop an entire feature-length play that they will then perform. Alamo Basement did something much like this last year. It was successful enough that they decided to do it again. Not long after the scheduled start time, Alamo Basement co-founder Michael Q. Hanlon and the play’s director Chris Scholke introduced the show. Taking suggestions from the audience, the title Bunny Rabbit In A Box Of Chocolates was chosen. Then the script was auctioned off to the highest bidder. A gentleman in the front row ended up winning the script, paying some $30 for something about which he, like the rest of us, probably knew almost nothing. After these small bits of business, the play began for the 50 or so people in attendance. A comedy set in a hotel in Transylvania, Bunny Rabbit In A Box of Chocolates was exceedingly entertaining. The script had been passed through a series of local DIY playwrights over the course of the 24 hours leading up to the performance. Pink Banana Theatre guru John Manno (Golden Apollo) got the script first. He worked with the actors to get a general feel for what the actors were interested in and went to work. The ensemble played characters they had a hand in developing, which made for an interesting stage dynamic during the actual performance. Alamo Basement co-founder Mike Q. Hanlon (who also served as one of the playwrights) played the hotel concierge, a classic comic straight man with a bit of a feral twist toward the end. The cast of characters parading through the hotel included a pair of honeymooning Wisconsinites with a sexual fetish for the history of warfare, a socialist hotel worker and his wife (a sexy maid with an inexplicable New York accent), a pair of dim-witted traveling thieves, a world-famous scientist and her eager assistant, a deposed Eastern European princess and others. In addition to Hanlon and Manno, playwrights included Peter J. Woods (Made In The Mouth) and Rex Winsome (co-founder of Insurgent Theatre). The script was remarkably coherent for something that four people took turns writing with very little sleep. Light comedies and farces try to capture a certain kind of mindless guilty fun, but something invariably gets lost in endless rehearsals. Impov comedy emulates freshness by giving the illusion of spontaneity, but all too often it’s simply actors forming pre-existing, pre-formulated characters and skits around audience suggestions. With Play In A Day, Alamo Basement seems to have hit on a sense of vitality that’s so glaringly missing in contemporary […]
Aug 1st, 2007 by Russ Bickerstaff
Misalliance
The first non-Shakespeare show in this year’s American Players Theatre season, George Bernard Shaw’s early 20th century dramatic debate, Misalliance, works much better on paper than it does on the stage. In principal, the idea of a play consisting almost exclusively of characters having lengthy discussions about love, marriage, justice and so on without much real action is a very clever one. In practice, it can be very difficult to sit through. Chicago actress Carrie A. Coon (who starred in Anna Christie with the Madison Rep last year) stars as Hypatia Tarleton, the restless daughter of the wealthy underwear magnate John Tarleton (Jonathan Smoots). Things seem perfectly dull in the house as things begin. All the characters seem nearly content to play out Shaw’s debate with only the slightest hint of any real action. True, there is a great deal of wit in what’s being sad, but it merely feels. Characters lounge around inside talented actors dressed in conspicuously tidy Rachel Healy costumes as everything rests in a tasteful early 20th-century Takeshi Kata set. Then a plane crashes into a building offstage and everything gets considerably more interesting. The play is an intellectually lively ensemble piece and the APT manages its usual magic of arranging a highly talented and cohesive cast. Chris Klopatek is pleasantly intolerable as the nuisance Bentley Summerhays. Bentley is that annoying brat with deafening smugness who always seems to know exactly what he can get away with. As the play opens he’s engaged in some sort of general frustration with Hypatia’s conservative brother Johnny (Marcus Truschinski). Truschinski is sharp in the role, which limits him to smooth, controlled bursts of passion accompanied by occasional bits of wit. Truschinski gives the character precisely as much range of emotional movement as he needs to get through the play without over-exaggerating any of his finer personality details. At some point early into the play’s first stretches, Bentley goes offstage to be intolerable elsewhere and in comes Lord Summerhays (Brian Mani) – a friend of the family. Mani is fun here. His character has a tendency for the type of humor Mani is so good at delivering . . . sparkling, little unassuming bits of semantic cleverness that creep up in response to things other characters say. Lord Summerhays has some entertaining bits of dialogue with Hypatia. He’s an older man taken with the younger woman who seems a bit taken with him as well and marriage is proposed between the two of them. Actually, marriage is proposed quite often in Misalliance – it’s a refreshing little parade of diversions the playwright has concocted to pass the time between the play’s beginning and end, which ends up being a central part of the play. Shaw seems intent on exploring the nature of love and marriage between many different pairings within the ensemble. There’s also this whole theme of women beginning to become individuals that Shaw wanted to explore. Apparently, he felt as though men at the turn of the last […]
Aug 1st, 2007 by Russ Bickerstaff
Footloose
By Tracy Doyle Check it: a beloved ‘80s movie starring Kevin Bacon, over a decade later made into a moderately successful Broadway musical, revised in 2007 and this past weekend made its local premiere in Elm Grove’s Sunset Playhouse. Why yes, I am talking about Dean Pitchford’s Footloose! Noi-ce! Mark Salentine’s director’s notes clearly stated what one should and should not expect from the performance. “Don’t expect the movie… and don’t expect the original Broadway play… Expect a story of triumph and celebration. And, of course, you should expect to cut loose – footloose!” I wholeheartedly agree. The musical centers around the story of angst-ridden teenager Ren McCormack (Zander Bednall) who is uprooted from Chicago to the biggest little nothing of a town, Bomont, in the middle of Oneofthosestates. A bit of a troublemaker from the get go, Ren attempts to release his pent up emotions through biting sarcasm, friendly brawls and his real passion: dance. However, Ren quickly discovers that dancing has been outlawed in Bomont and he makes it his personal goal to bring back the beat to this tiny town. Along the way he befriends a hodgepodge collection of kids, the less-articulate, yet heart-of-gold side-kick Willard (Andrew Hollenbeck), the gorgeous misunderstood preacher’s daughter Ariel (Allie Beckmann), the giggling gaggle of teenage girls and the jealous meathead boyfriend of aforementioned preacher’s daughter. With his gang behind him, Ren confronts the religious authority running the town, learns a few heartfelt lessons and becomes a man. I liked the movie (shoot, shouldn’t be talking about movie) but I loved this musical! These kids can rock. The carefully reined enthusiasm of the ensemble paired with the attitude the size of North Dakota oozing out of every angsty pore in Bednall’s body was enough to keep this girl rocking and cause some audience members in close vicinity to shout out “YEAH!!!” at the end of “Footloose (Finale).” Neither Bednall nor Beckmann is the best singer in the world, but their acting was quite believable and enjoyable. Anne Gore (Rusty) shone brightly in her rendition of “Let’s Hear it for the Boy,” one of the several popular ‘80s songs to make it into the musical score. This show is not out to change any lives. It’s not going to change the world and I doubt you’ll leave the theater foaming at the bit over all the unfortunate souls living in danceless communities at this very moment. However, the show overwhelming succeeds in its goals of “triumph and celebration.” You’ll leave the house tapping your toes and humming a catchy bar or two; just promise me you’ll watch where you’re kicking off those Sunday shoes. VS The Sunset Playhouse’s performance of Footloose runs through August 5. For more information, call 262-782-4430 or visit www.sunsetplayhouse.com.
Aug 1st, 2007 by Vital Archives
The Merchant of Venice
The American Player Theatre delves into sticky realms of ambiguity with its production of what is arguably one of Shakespeare’s most questionable plays. The Merchant of Venice concerns money lent to a man by a Jewish moneylender named Shylock. If the money is not paid back in a timely fashion, Shylock has the legal right to one pound of the debtor’s flesh. It’s not an overriding problem unless one happens to be exquisitely sensitive, but there are enough allusions to anti-Semitism in the script to make modern audiences cringe. The APT glides its way gracefully through what is essentially a courtroom drama with as much style as it can muster. This includes some of the best acting in the state filling a comfy outdoor theatre in the middle of a wooded area west of Madison. Sadly, however, the biggest disappointment in the acting here is James Ridge in that oh-so-central performance as the Jewish moneylender, Shylock. It should be pointed out before this review goes any further that James Ridge is a phenomenal actor. In 2005, his performance as Tartuffe was exquisite and insightful – something of a revelation. This past year as the title character in Dickens In America with Next Act (which he picks up again this summer with the APT and next December with the Madison Rep), Ridge put forth a spellbinding, highly charismatic performance. In light of these recent successes, Ridge’s performance as Shylock is a colossal disappointment. Ridge affects an accent, which may serve to distinguish a sense of otherworldliness in the villain, but it never quite feels natural enough to make the character entirely believable. Ridge goes a long way toward making up for this lack of realism by playing the role sympathetically. We see depth in Ridge’s performance as Shylock. His motivations for behaving as cold as he is seem firmly defined in Ridge’s portrayal, but the larger picture of who the character is never fully resolves, leaving this production’s Shylock feeling like more of a shallow villain than Ridge’s efforts should have allowed. The rest of the performances here live up to the play quite well. James DeVita plays the title character who borrows money from Shylock to give to his friend Bassanio (Matt Schwader) so that he may have a chance at marrying his one true love, Portia (the charming Colleen Madden). As the play progresses, Bassanio gets ever closer to his dream as Portia plays reluctant host to a series of wealthy suitors played by frequent Rep actor Jonathan Smoots. Madden is in particularly good form here playing subtle comedy in perfect timing and DeVita plays the title role as a very rational man in very real peril. The best part of his performance is the intrinsic believability of his friendship with Bassanio. It would seem all too easy to play a friendship between two men in which one is willing to risk his life for the other’s well being as some kind of mysterious male code of honor for […]
Aug 1st, 2007 by Russ Bickerstaff
