2008-03 Vital Source Mag – March 2008
A graceful duet
The stomach twists into a knot, the palms springs tiny beads of sweat, and the heart flutters. These are the agonizing symptoms of performance in a piano recital, and they may occur as well in an anxious audience, holding its collective breath, waiting for every note to sound clearly and correctly. Yet PianoArts, a Milwaukee organization that hosts their own Biennial National Piano Competition, seeks to alleviate these physical feelings of insecurity and replace them with confidence. This year the PianoArts 2008 National Piano Competition runs from June 19 through June 24. Twelve chosen semifinalists will compete to be selected as one of three finalists; three finalists then perform with the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra in conjunction with Andrew Sill, musical director for PianoArts. The elite standards that PianoArts asks of these youths, from ages 15 to 19, includes speaking to the judges about their music, why they selected their piece and what these musical movements mean to them. The finalists perform a duet involving cello or violin as well as an entire concerto with the MSO, conducted by Sill. They are also asked to perform a solo to further elevate the level of competition. But before any of this happens, members of the PianoArts faculty use two days of the week before the final recital to help each of the semifinalists perfect their performance skills. This is critical to the competition, as the mission of PianoArts, slightly simplified, is to “develop innovative ways to foster appreciation and performance of classical music… through identifying and training America’s future concert artists.” This literally means that as every semifinalist practices on the piano, they concurrently study how to move on stage, present themselves to the public and make connections with an audience when they discuss their music. Sue Medford, manager and a co-founder of the PianoArts Competition in 1999, explains this unique aspect of their competition. “Today’s audiences like to be brought into the experience; they like to connect with the people on stage.” Her enthusiasm for their commitment shows as she continues. “Classical music is a form of true art, reflecting what we are as a culture, and the performing artist, the pianist, must bring that concept to life and to the audience.” After the competition concludes, first and second place winners (with prizes of $8,000 and $5,000, respectively) return for artist-in-residence programs that allow them to practice their skills on an on-going basis. PianoArts professionals mentor these award winners by encouraging them in their continuing musical education, often at prestigious college programs, offering fine-tuning and support for their performance schedules. A typical artist-in-residence pianist may be in the city from three days to three weeks, contributing to educational programs and family concerts. This enhances not only the pianist’s abilities, but provides opportunities to enrich elementary-age students with classical music. These outreach programs also help develop future audiences for symphonies and concert venues, not only in Milwaukee, but throughout the nation. The PianoArts winners travel worldwide to promote the prevailing mission of […]
Mar 31st, 2008 by Peggy Sue Dunigan
Hula Hoop Sha-Boop
When I was in grade school, some of the biggest hits on pop radio spoke of paternity suits, what it was like to be a virgin “touched for the very first time” and the sound of doves crying. By the time I got to high school, pop radio was openly dealing with sex, anatomy and human aggression. It’s difficult for someone who grew-up in the 1980s and early 1990s to understand that there was a time when the pop music hit parade was overwhelmingly innocent. Aside from a few dark songs like “Mack The Knife” (a song about murder), most of the music on the pop charts back then were the kind of innocent teen love songs that make it so easy to forget that the 1950s were anything but innocent. While intolerable amounts of racism and sexism were socially acceptable, pop radio asked, “Do you love me?” While the CIA was ramping up to do extremely malicious deeds overseas, pop radio asked, ”Do you want to dance?” As the cold war was building-up the military industrial complex, pop radio asked, “Why do fools fall in love?” The Milwaukee Rep returns to an age of pop-cultural innocence as it stages these songs and more in the Stackner Cabaret’s production of Hula Hoop Sha-Boop. They may not have been the most poignant songs to come through the airwaves, but there was a real passion behind the hits of the 1950s, driven as they were by the emotional energy of jazz and blues. Much of that passion had been bleached and sanitized from the music by the time it made it to the recording studio and out over the airwaves, but it was still there. The music comes to the Stakcner cabaret with nearly all of its remaining soul drained from it. This is not to say that Hula Hoop Sha-Boop isn’t a great deal of fun. It is. Really. Hula Hoop Sha-Boop is a deftly-weighted package of nostalgia balanced by a contemporary understanding of mid-century culture. The show opens with an audio mix that swiftly takes the audience from the present back to mid-century with brief, iconic sound bytes from every decade. Occasional glances are taken at the adult word beyond pop culture, the most savvy of which takes the audience through a performance of the “Duck and Cover” PR jingle – the U.S. government’s attempt to calm public fears of the threat of nuclear weapons. It’s easily the cleverest moment in the production. With no real plot to weigh it down, the show quickly barrels through medleys of over sixty songs from ‘50’s and ‘60’s pop radio. The quick pace of the show moves swiftly through a tightly packaged collection of songs presented without intermission on a set packed with more nostalgic visuals than a Rock’n’Roll McDonald’s. The cast keeps up with the pace of the show and keeps things together. (Scott Rott’s costuming carries a great deal of weight as well.) Mo Brady looks perfect as the mid-20th century […]
Mar 31st, 2008 by Russ Bickerstaff
3/20/2008
“The last time we played here, we didn’t play here,” bassist Joanna Bolme reminisced, referring to The Jicks’ 2003 “Milwaukee Show,” where they unexpectedly played an entire set pulled strictly from the Pavement back catalog. Their March 20th show at the Pabst Theater, the second stop on the Jicks’ spring 2008 headlining tour with John Vanderslice, didn’t make such history. This time, the band did what they were supposed to: supported new release Real Emotional Trash. Nine of the disc’s ten tracks were included; “Elmo Delmo” wasn’t. Three songs into the set, someone vocally demanded that Malkmus turn up his guitar (“Down? Or Up?” Malkmus clarified, somehow confused. “Guitars aren’t important to this band,” Bolme joked), but generally, the audience of mostly white male 20-somethings was complacent. “This record was made for playing live, not for listening,” a friend criticized in the lobby at a beer break during the tame “Out Of Reaches.” Though true that something like “Baltimore,” busting with bass-lines and lots of opportunity for Malkmus to prove his guitar fluency, is win-win, 2003’s Pig Lib brought the show’s most stellar point — and some looseness — with “(Do Not Feed the) Oyster.” The second half of “Real Emotional Trash” was also easily climactic; its throbbing energy lured even more of those mostly white male 20-somethings away from their theater seats and toward the pit of the stage. The band bottomed out in a cheap attempt to score points during “Hopscotch Willie.” They lifted their drinks while emphasizing the lyrics “underneath the pier/with BEER!” but didn’t get the reaction they anticipated from Brew City. The crowd had one repeated request throughout the evening, and the lively “Baby C’mon” (Face the Truth, 2005) was finally played as the set’s last word, leaving the audience stomping and howling for an encore. The Jicks returned with a cover of “Run to Your Lover,” and Malkmus confessed that his singing manner (no, nothing to do with cowbell) made him feel like a Will Ferrell impersonator. It took some consideration before finding another encore song new Jick, drummer Janet Weiss (the Bright Eyes tourmate formerly of Sleater-Kinney), would consent to. “We’re not playing “Troubbble,” Malkmus said, to audible disappointment. “We played that last night [in Minneapolis].” They settled on “Animal Midnight” and sent everyone packing before twelve o’clock. One couldn’t help feeling that what Minneapolis hadn’t already spoiled was being spared for Chicago the next night. There’s only space for one “Milwaukee Show” in the books, after all. VS
Mar 27th, 2008 by Amber Herzog
Endgame
Before the play begins, the audience faces an image that resembles a René Magritte painting. A formless background of white clouds against blue sky is projected into the drawn curtain. When the curtain is pulled back, we see the familiar, iconic set of Samuel Beckett’s Endgame. A sheeted object rests center stage. Two more sheeted objects rest off to the side. Sand rests in piles on the floor. A large, cylindrical steel wall stands with two high porthole windows stands above the set. Todd Rosenthal’s set is well-crafted and everything is almost eerily, perfectly in place besides the painted-on stains and filth on the set walls. In the role of Clov, a servant who cannot sit down, Milwaukee Rep Resident Actor Lee E. Ernst exhibits considerable talent for bringing subtlety to his somewhat pathetic character. He walks with an awful trudge. Everything from the precise peculiarity of Clov’s laugh to his unique way of climbing a ladder is breathtakingly idiosyncratic. The physical aspect of Ernst’s performance is especially indispensable at the beginning of the play when the character speaks no dialogue, busily drawing the sheets off two ashbins and his elderly charge Hamm, played by Mark Corkins. He resonates deeply in this role. The character’s pompous egocentrism, breathing through Corkins, echoes over an infinite abyss of monotony at the end of the world. Corkins and Ernst craft a brilliantly dark comedy, tempered with just the right amount of drama. Endgame is easily the single most powerful production The Rep has staged this season. Adding contrast to Corkins and Ernst are Torrey Hanson and Laura Gordon in the roles of Nagg and Nell. Gordon’s performance is the nadir of human emotion — a minimalist symphony. Hanson is hauntingly stark, rumbling along in the semi-death of Hamm’s father until it comes time to tell the joke. Hanson’s delivery of the joke provides a perfect counterpoint to the rest of the production. Endgame has been described as a staged dramatic poem for four actors. There’s a gentle rhythm and percussion moving through the characters that can be played with endless subtle variations. These four very talented and seasoned Rep actors create an impressive spoken word quartet, aided by Ernst’s talent for physical performance. For those in the right state of mind for the comedy of misery, this production is sheer pleasure from beginning to end. The Milwaukee Rep’s production of Endgame runs now through April 20 at the Stiemke Theater. For more information call the Rep box office at 414-224-9490 or visit the Rep online.
Mar 27th, 2008 by Russ Bickerstaff
A trail well-traveled
A Survey: Drawings & Paintings by John Wickenberg March 19 – May 18 Charles Allis Art Museum 1801 N. Prospect Avenue John Wickenberg studied under the guidance of another John (Wisconsin’s own John Wilde); the ghost of his late teacher, who died in 2006, lingers in A Survey: Drawings & Paintings by John Wickenberg (now – May 18 at the Charles Allis Art Museum). Laurel Turner, the curator of exhibitions and collections at both the Charles Allis and Villa Terrace, surely had her hands full dealing with the proliferation of various art mediums in the show: watercolor/gouache, watercolor/pencil, silverpoint/acrylic, silverpoint/oil. In preparing for this review, I visited the Print, Drawing, and Photography Study Center at the Milwaukee Art Museum, and was told by a helpful staffer that the Center had none of Wisconsin-based Wickenberg’s works. For his part, John Wilde has been variously defined as a magic realist, a surrealistic and a fantasy painter, but Wickenberg doesn’t exactly fit into these niches. It’s doubtful that he’d appreciate being pigeon-holed. “The basis of my technique is a strong commitment to the craft of drawing,” he says. Period. Wickenberg (who earned his Bachelor’s and Master of Fine Arts degree from UW-Madison, and later taught at UW-Whitewater) depicts everyday objects, so I was pleased to locate a mixed-media Joseph Cornell box (“Celestial Navigations by Birds, 1958”) in MAM’s Gallery 18, and upstairs, Georgia O’Keeffe’s 1936 “Mule Skull with Turkey Feather.” Her pretty paintings bore me in the way that Milton Avery’s work bores me, but at least her skull and feather painting is a still-life statement about life and death, and it thrust me forward to further explore. In the Education Gallery on the main level, I paused to see what they had to offer, and it turned out to be what I was seeking: a nice selection of graphite drawings with watercolor by Wisconsin-based artist Joanna Poehlmann. Her beautifully drawn “Nest Egg VI” (2006) echoes both Wickenberg and Wilde, who accomplish the extraordinary via the ordinary. I don’t stand around at exhibitions counting pieces of art, but my pre-show Charles Allis list indicated some 52 by Wickenberg from various years, in various sizes, variously titled “Avalanche,” “Frisbee and Other Obsessions” and “Horn of Plenty” (Homage to 20th Century Art), which I recall from a 2001 exhibition at the Rahr-West in Manitowoc. To clear my head, I had to remind myself that all art starts with a blank and goes (successfully or unsuccessfully) from there. Prior “understanding” of particular works tends to muddy the field, which ideally should be level and clear of pre-conceived notions, so I leave it to art historians to trace the art of the still-life back to the efforts of Renaissance masters. “All art,” John Wilde wrote, “comes from sex and the awareness of death.” On floor two of the Allis, in the main gallery space, are seven watercolor and gouache paintings depicting nests: empty nests, nests with feathers, nests with eggs (albeit “abandoned”). Despite the richness of detail, […]
Mar 20th, 2008 by Stella Cretek
Pink Martini brings elegance and mystery to the Pabst Theater
Sometimes you need a little reminder that you are living in a city capable of sophistication and intrigue. Inside the intimate yet lavishly gilded atmosphere of the Pabst Theater in Milwaukee, right down the street from bawdy St. Patrick’s Day revelers on Water Street and Bruce Springsteen rocking the Bradley Center, an elegant woman in a black designer dress saunters on stage. Her necklace and earrings twinkle in the spotlight while her lowered face reveals dark eyeshadow with sparkles mixed in. Her face rises and dark red lips part. The 11-piece band crescendos and pauses. Out of singer China Forbes comes fluent musical Portuguese. In another number it is Spanish. Then English. Then French. Later Italian appears and even Arabic for a little Egyptian number that translates to “Tomorrow and the Day After.” It’s clear within the first five numbers (in two hours this “little orchestra” will perform 22 songs with no intermission) that Pink Martini falls within the depth-defying genre known as ‘world lounge’ music. What began as a four-piece performing at political events, founded by artistic director and pianist Thomas Lauderdale, was later expanded with fellow Harvard alum Forbes into a jazz orchestra. Pink Martini recalls the golden age of cabaret showstoppers in samba, salsa, cha-cha and any other number of arrangements influenced by outposts of sound from around the world. The crowd at the venerable music hall is decidedly older for the most part, but the enthusiasm of the crowd – frequently so loud that they interrupt Lauderdale and Forbes’ witty banter – pleasantly startle the band. After ten years recording albums and performing around the world, the pack of mostly under-40 musicians onstage still seemed flummoxed by their avid fans. Some songs illicit cheers at the first notes when they are recognized as revered classics, once sung by the likes of Henri Salvador and Eartha Kitt. Other compositions of original nature such as Pink Martini’s current hit “Hey Eugene” – a song Forbes wrote almost action-for-action about a one-night encounter with an enthusiastic guy who never called her back – garner even more praise from the audience. While the cheers and frequent standing ovations are justly deserved this evening, it sometimes feels like the crowd is so hungry for culture and music not heard outside the realm of occasional NPR programs that they threaten to consume the orchestra whole. When Forbes cryptically dedicates final number “Brazil” to a couple that seems to follow the band on tour dates, it’s obvious that the older-but-energetic woman who runs down the aisle and starts a conga line is the one described by the singer. It’s an odd sensation, watching older people jump out of their seats and start dancing with abandon – but that’s just the power of Pink Martini’s living music, and it must be seen, heard and felt to understand. VS
Mar 19th, 2008 by Brian Jacobson
The Night is a Child
“How can you forget what you don’t understand?” asks Harriet Easton, a middle-aged mother from Boston struggling through endless, sleepless nights. Her insomnia follows the suicide of her son Michael after the tragic event at a city nursery school where he killed his ex-wife and seven other victims. These oppressive night shadows haunt Harriet in the Milwaukee Repertory’s world-premiere presentation of The Night is a Child. African-American playwright Charles Randolph-Wright attempts to understand the aftermath of Harriet’s personal tragedy as a connection to similar horrific events. He composes a drama that moves with underlying rhythms of music into themes concerning guilt, grief, religion and violence. In sheer desperation, Harriet Easton travels to her romanticized Rio when she realizes her incapacity to live with these demons any longer. Brazil helps her escape the anniversary of the tragedy and the influence her overbearing two children. In Rio, leaving Boston behind, Harriet discovers beautiful beaches, potent drinks and the Brazilian Samba as her mysterious friend Bia escorts Harriet through her nightmares to find dreams of peace. Still home in Boston, her two children – Jane, the successful type-A lawyer, and Brian, Michael’s alcoholic twin – suffer their own sleepless nights worrying about their mother’s whereabouts and pondering unanswered questions about the death of the brother they loved, the constant media coverage of the tragedy and the infamous notoriety that brings. As they seek to rescue Harriet, Jane and Brian save not only their mother but also themselves. As Bia tells them, “Sometimes what we find inside ourselves is more dangerous than outside.” Randolph-Wright asks the audience to see the samba as a metaphor for “letting go” of these unanswerable questions in life. But this metaphorical tension builds slowly as the action shifts between Boston and Brazil in the first act. Humorous notes in the script soften the disturbing subjects as the second act takes us further into these dilemmas. Yet there might be might be too many chords to hear as Randolph-Wright tries to synthesize popular music together with the drama of Harriet’s self-healing. Still, the excellent acting of Elizabeth Norment as Harriet and Lanise Antione Shelley as Bia creates an atmosphere on stage allowing all these themes to harmonize and their tenuous relationship to transcend two disparate cultures. Monette Magrath’s Jane and Tyler Pierce’s Brian capture sibling rivalry adequately. But these characters stand on a visually blank stage, minimal in design, with the richness of the Brazilian culture missing. Even the clothing Harriet wears never changes as she transforms her sleepless nights into rational survival. Throughout this bare two hours, there is more character and emotion, even through the customs of Brazil, to be explored. Charles Randolph-Wright creates an evening that asks many questions with few answers. Along with Harriet, the audience would like to believe fleeing to Brazil and embracing a fresh cultural context might offer permanent relief from life’s tragedies. But as she learns to Samba, to dance on the edge of Boston’s Charles River, that question remains. How does […]
Mar 18th, 2008 by Peggy Sue Dunigan
Sleeping Beauty
Two feuding sisters. Two witches. Branwen the bright witch and Modron the dark bring a sibling duel to this entertaining fairytale of magical powers as this First Stage Children’s Theater production of Sleeping Beauty unfolds with engaging and innovative touches. From the fall of glittering fairy dust on children’s heads as they enter the theater, this performance sparkles. King Peredur and Queen Guinevere are childless, destined by Branwen to discover Briar Rose in scenic designer Rick Rassmusen’s enchanted forest. Branwen’s plan wanders astray when Modron finds the child first, refusing to listen to her sister’s pleas to leave the little girl for the King and Queen. In the heated exchange of conflicting spells, the Royal Couple uncovers the tiny baby and carries her off to the castle where she temporarily escapes Modron. Seeking revenge for losing this battle, Modron challenges her sister again at Briar Rose’s christening. With only one blessing remaining, the dark witch casts her evil curse of death for Briar Rose before reaching her 16th birthday. Branwen softens her sibling’s dire magic, but the cautious royals burn every spinning wheel on which the princess could prick her finger and die and confine her within the castle walls. As she grows, her loneliness deepens, even with the consolation of her imaginative playmate Gryff (half-man, half-dragon) – so every summer Owain, a prince from a far away Kingdom, comes to be her friend. Declared “utterly useless” by his father, Owain and Briar Rose struggle together as their friendship grows. Her belief in him allows the Prince to develop his hidden talents and eventually gives him the courage to overcome the 100-year sleeping spell that divides the witch sisters forever. Spinning this inspirational tale is a winning cast of both adult and child actors skillfully directed by Jeff Frank. Molly Glynn’s Modron, deliciously sinister, pairs nicely with Diane Robinson’s benevolent Branwen. The banter between Bo Johnson’s Peredur plays well to Jacque Troy’s Guinevere is delightfully humorous, and the “Briar Rose” children that performed on Friday were exceptionally convincing in their role. The comical additions of Benjamin Riegel’s Gryff and the Tylweth Teg forest fairies create entertaining characters that move the story forward. With this retelling, Sleeping Beauty sidesteps much of the make-believe to create the real that magic Owain learns lies within himself. As he is told: “A man’s heart is his mightiest weapon.” First Stage’s production ingeniously enhances the original fairytale by presenting the timeless virtues of friendship, love and courage into the realm of kept promises that all ages will certainly appreciate. When Gryff and Branwen encourage Owain in the end scene to again “listen to his heart,” this performance of Sleeping Beauty succeeds in awakening the personal magic lying expectantly inside every heart. VS First Stage Children’s Theater presents Sleeping Beauty through March 22 at the Todd Wehr Theater, Marcus Center for the Performing Arts. For information call 414.273.7206 or visit First Stage online.
Mar 6th, 2008 by Peggy Sue Dunigan
Leah Jee rocks the BBC
Talking to Leah Jee is a cheerful experience; you get the impression she spends a great deal of time happily rocking out. She has carried this attitude with her from her home in sunny California, moving here in 2000 with a scholarship to Marquette. Jee plays an infectious, energetic, pop-punky Orange county-y sound, a ray of South Cali supersonic sunlight that blinds the frozen no-fun-niks of the local scene. Leah Jee and The Boys (her back up band: Jim Sinicki, bass, Lior Dar, drums, Bryan Burch, guitar) have played it all, from the sweat-soaked, beer-swilling masses at Summerfest to intimate serenades on a stormy night at the Riverwest Commons. The band toured in November, playing dozens of gigs in home, sweet home, California, from San Francisco to San Diego. “The California music scene was absolutely receptive to us, and we had a great fan response every show we played.” Jee told me. The band will hit the road again in May for a mid-Atlantic and East Coast tour. On March 8, Jee will rock the BBC, celebrating the release of her new EP, All The Things I Forgot To Mention, recorded at Studio Z in Milwaukee over several months. Leah Jee and the boys always give an ebullient live performance, and if the audience is lucky, they’ll hear a rockin’ cover of Paula Abdul’s “Straight Up” which wowed the crowd so much at one performance that they demanded the band play it a second time. Speaking of Paula Abdul, Miss Jee will be one of three guest judges for the Alverno College Idol contest, a replica of American Idol. Jee will certainly bring a healthy dose of Vitamin C to the contest. Leah Jee’s CD release is March 8 at 8PM at BBC, with Evenstar, The Identity Theft, and Now You Have Audio. The CD is available online.
Mar 5th, 2008 by Tea Krulos
Blessed Assurance
As messed up as things seem in the United States right now, it is reassuring to realize that certain things were much worse 100 years ago. A lot happened in the 20th century. In theory, every adult citizen of the United States can vote now. This was not the case on the other side of the 20th century. And while the actual power of that vote is subject to speculation, many people exerted a great deal of courageous effort to make universal suffrage a reality. This month Acacia Theater Company stages Laddy Sartin’s Blessed Assurance, the story of one African-American woman who demanded her right to vote in Mississippi in 1964. Ericka Wade stars as Olivia, a cook at a diner in Sunflower County. As the play opens, that familiar face at the diner has become a controversial one. Olivia had climbed the courthouse steps to register to vote and been turned back. Wade has a kind of quiet strength that ties together the rest of the cast quite nicely. Wade has given some stand-out performances at the Boulevard Theatre recently and makes an equally impressive Acacia debut in a role she inhabits quite memorably. Evan Weisfeldt plays Harlan, the owner of the café. While Harlan seems to respect Olivia, he is a victim of prejudice, and when pressed, he is caught between his apparent respect for Olivia and his place in society in a volatile period of American history. Weisfeldt captures the uncertainty of the time, but his performance fails to shed much light on that side of the human psyche that is unable to accept change towards greater equality. Finding the source of deep-rooted intolerance would be a tremendous challenge for any actor, and Weisfeldt plays the character with enough balance to keep him interesting. But without a deeper understanding of his motivations, he comes off as something of an enigma. Olivia’s friend Lewis, played by Mario Andre Alberts, is concerned for her safety and joins her in her second trip to the courthouse to demand to be registered to vote. It’s a move that makes things that much worse at the café, which by this time has closed for business and become a refuge for the two of them. Alberts’ performance is compassionate, and he coaxes Lewis and Olivia closer together over the course of the play. There’s a strength between the two of them, but things are going to get much worse before they get better as the two are accosted by a man named Slick. Jason Will plays the face of blatant racism as Slick. He’s apparently a regular at the café, but his relationship to the other characters is complicated. Perhaps he knows Olivia and Lewis as people, but doesn’t recognize them as equals. This dynamic comes into subtle prominence in a scene between him and Lewis. Slick sits on the counter and asks Lewis to shine his shoes – something Lewis stopped doing a long time ago. The scene is uncomfortable to watch, […]
Mar 4th, 2008 by Russ Bickerstaff
Of Mice and Men
By Jill Gilmer “A play based on an American classic is only worth doing if it can spark a revolution.” This was the inspiration behind Rebecca Holderness’decision to direct Of Mice and Men at the UWM Mainstage theatre. Through the effective use of archival material and a variety of other unexpected touches, Ms. Holderness attempts to shine a light on the political messages that are usually overlooked in this adaptation of John Steinbeck’s heavily-analyzed novel. Time will tell if this student production achieves its director’s lofty goal, but Holderness clearly succeeds in creating a moving experience that simultaneously disturbs and inspires. Of Mice and Men is the simple tale of George and Lennie, two migrant workers who roam the countryside during Depression-era California seeking work to finance their dream of buying their own ranch and living off “the fat of the land.” George and Lennie are an unusual pairing in the ranch-hand community. Lennie, a mildly-retarded giant of a man who doesn’t know his own strength, is in many ways the antithesis of the sophisticated George, who offers a vision of a better life and the brains to make it happen. Their tight bond of friendship is a source of envy for the other ranch-hands, many of whom travel solo and fight intense loneliness to maintain near-poverty wages. The story follows the evolution of their relationship as George seeks to balance the benefit of Lennie’s brawn and friendship with the liability associated with his uncensored comments and his propensity to touch soft things, including mice and their boss’ wife’s hair. The superb student cast brings authenticity to characters much older than the actors who portray them. Moreover, the cast successfully captures the delicate balance between sadness and hope that makes these characters seem so familiar and the story so stirring. Andrew Edwin Voss is excellent as Lennie. His innocence and unbridled honesty is perfectly juxtaposed against acts of depravity related to a series of conflicts between the ranch hands. Marques Causey, who plays the only African American character, strikes a chord with the audience as the amiable and devious Crooks. As George, Daniel Koester appears slightly less comfortable in his role than the other actors. However, he succeeds in communicating the internal struggle between his loyalty to his friend and his desire to achieve his dreams. Black-and-white photos on elevated screens combine with dramatic lighting and a minimalist set to transport the audience to the 1930s. Another effective mood-setting device is a series of monologs by two characters that take place prior to the start of the play. Powerful archival images outside the theatre combine with excellent performances inside to penetrate the soul. The overall effect is a production that transcends a study of generally likeable characters to compel the audience to examine the priority of friendship and money, dreams and character in their own lives. The commentary on issues of labor and race may be more of a backdrop for exploring these broader themes than a central focus of […]
Mar 4th, 2008 by Vital Archives
Knock out
The Powerful Hand of George Bellows: Drawings from the Boston Public Library Milwaukee Art Museum Koss Gallery Now – March 23 The Milwaukee Art Museum’s spin for the George Bellows exhibition (now- March 23) goes like this: special rare drawings and lithographs, important chronicler of American life in the early twentieth century, highlights include scenes of boxing, racetracks and the glory of rabble-rousing preacher Billy Sunday. I was intrigued enough to visit the Koss Gallery, but not because of any touted aspects of the exhibition: in the ‘40s, I watched my dad enjoy boxing matches on television, and later, when we moved to Kansas City, he invited me out to watch the regional Golden Gloves boxing matches. I guess he thought it was a good way to bond (plus the Moriarty clan lays claim to John L. Sullivan, a shirt-tail relative from our Irish past). It was surreal to watch the sweat fly and blood splat near our ringside seats in a smoke-filled arena mostly populated by men. As years passed, I found myself fascinated by Body and Soul and Raging Bull. When Joyce Carol Oates, one of my favorite American writers, penned On Boxing in 1994, I learned that she and her dad had attended a 1950s Golden Gloves match, too. I’m also fascinated with old-time evangelical preachers, having seen them scream and shout in tents set up in my small Iowa hometown. Elmer Gantry, a movie I re-visit at least once a year, is based on preacher Billy Sunday, who is prominently figured in the works of George Bellows. Bellows’ (1882-1925) focus is primarily power, be it religious, political or athletic in nature. Prior to studying art, he was a star athlete in college where his discipline likely gave him a competitive edge in the art world. In this dark and gritty, near-hysterical political year of 2008, his change! change! change! artist/anarchist message rings familiar. I have a sneaking suspicion that the artist deemed the American masses as sheep in need of a shepherd and figured he might as well be it. The Koss Gallery is crowded with the artist’s work (smartly coordinated at MAM by Mary Weaver Chapin, assistant curator of prints and drawings), but the intimate space helps viewers focus on the cramped turbulence of the American city. The detailed drawings and lithographs remind me of pages in a historical novel punctuated with black and white images, though there is one colorful oil painting from 1916, “The Sawdust Trail.” It is the “star” of the Koss’ central gallery, but it is certainly not the prime example of images depicting Billy Sunday. Compared with the seven images surrounding it, the oil seems ham-fisted and blowsy. Bellows considered Sunday, an athlete who played with the Chicago White Stockings, the “worst thing that ever happened to America,” so perhaps the artist saw himself as a kind of “art evangelist.” Late in his career, he turned to lucrative portrait work (some of it is included in the exhibition) and seascapes; […]
Mar 3rd, 2008 by Stella Cretek
