2008
Spinning Into Butter
By Jill Gilmer Every once in a while, a play comes along that reminds us why we love independent theatre. Bold. High-energy. Daring. Provocative. Transforming. Pink Banana’s Spinning Into Butter is such a play. Award-winning playwright Rebecca Gilman has created a fresh examination of the usually taboo subject of race by peeking into the lives of four faculty members at a liberal arts college in Vermont. Spinning Into Butter follows the administration’s attempts to quell the firestorm that erupts on campus after an African American student receives a string of hate mail at his dormitory. The story centers on Dean Sarah Daniels, a self-described cynic who came to Vermont to escape black people and the intense emotional turmoil they elicit in her. The climax of the play is a 20-minute monolog in which Sarah reveals her true feelings about blacks – a toxic mix of guilt, loathing, compassion, anger, empathy and disgust. The play presents a rare look at the attitudes of educated whites toward race. Through a series of conversations that take place in Sarah’s office, we observe myriad attitudes toward minorities and the actions that emanate from them. What is interesting is that these conversions take place almost exclusively between the administrators, a fact at the core of the racial problems on campus. Indeed, there is only one minority character in the play. Instead of seeing the minorities with its own eyes, we hear about them through dialog between white people. Through this dialog, we learn that minority students feel talked about, talked around and talked down to by the administration – everything except talked with. The administration’s lack of genuine understanding and respect for these students leads to adverse consequences for the students and aggravates the campus’ racial problem. In one of several scenes that are rich with insight, Sarah accuses one of her colleagues of idolizing a homeless man on the bus. She says: you see him as many things, but none of them is “peer.” The genius of this play is its gentle probing into the antidote for racial conflict. Gillman suggests that the solution lies in forging real relationships between people of differing backgrounds. This requires less talking and more listening among all parties. It allows for all of us to hold racial biases, which is as unfortunate as it is inevitable. But the real tragedy is when we focus our energy on ourselves and our self-interests as opposed to attempting to get to know another group on a personal level. It’s a solution that can be applied to conflicts of all kinds. Pink Banana brings Spinning Into Butter to the stage on a shoestring budget, but uses its resources wisely. The Tenth Street Theater, housed in a church, provides an appropriately prim backdrop for its New England college setting. Set details reveal little about location, encouraging the audience to resist the temptation to dismiss the disturbing messages as unique to a particular time or place. The cast is as passionate about the play’s […]
Aug 1st, 2008 by Vital Archives
Wrap and Roll
Wraps are perfect for summertime – they require little cooking and pack up easily for boating, picnics and other excursions. Don’t be put off by Christopher Miller’s (no relation) lengthy instructions and ingredients – it’s all quick and easy to do! My recipe has just a few ingredients and has always been a crowd pleaser for me. VS REFRESHING GRILLED FUSION AHI TUNA WRAP Christopher Miller General Manager and Executive Chef Sake Tumi 714 N. Milwaukee St. 414-224-7253 sake-milwaukee.com Photos by Lynn Allen Christopher Miller, General Manager and Executive Chef of Sake Tumi, came into the Asian food market as fresh clay. He had lots of experience with Italian food working for the Bartolotta’s, the Balistrieri’s and Johnny Vassallo, but had to learn the aesthetics of Asian cooking when he moved into his current position. To learn how to wrap and roll the Japanese way, he studied with Ken Sung at Yokaso in Brookfield. Beyond the food, working at Sake Tumi has been a cultural awakening for Miller, who has learned “a whole new way of communicating” with an emphasis on respect for age, gender and hierarchy. It’s a sensibility that will no doubt follow him into his next adventure and beyond. 4 10-inch flour tortillas 1 8 oz. Ahi (yellow fin) tuna steak (#1 plus/sushi grade) (any protein may be substituted) ½ cup cooled prepared rice of choice (long grain, instant, jasmine, etc – leftover take-out is fine!) ½ whole pineapple or 16 oz. can sliced pineapple 2 jalapeño peppers 2 vine-ripened tomatoes 1 small head of iceberg (your favorite, more nutritious variety may be substituted) 1 small sweet onion 10 springs cilantro 1 lime 1 thumb-sized lobe of ginger ¼ cup soy sauce Salt and pepper PREP Clean skin off tuna. Mince ginger and mix with ¼ cup soy sauce. Marinate tuna in mixture for one hour. While tuna marinates, skin, core and slice pineapple. Season with salt and pepper. Set aside. For the lettuce mix, finely shred lettuce and onion and chop cilantro. Mix with lime juice and add zest from lime for extra kick, if you wish. Season with salt and pepper. (My signature mix: goes good with anything! burgers, tacos, sandwiches etc) GRILL Grill tuna rare to medium rare. Slice into thin slices and let cool. Grill pineapple, cut into chunks and let cool. Grill jalapeños until blackened. Soak in ice water until cool. Peel off skin. Slice in half, clean out seeds and Julienne. (Great technique to add flavor without lots of heat!). Grill tomatoes using same technique. WRAP Grill 4 tortillas. Layer with tuna slices. Load with rice, pineapple, jalapeño, tomatoes and lettuce mix. Wrap it up, eat and enjoy! Makes 4 wraps. MIDWEST MIDEAST WRAPS Catherine McGarry Miller Event planner, author, book editor and VITAL columnist This recipe comes from my love for Mideastern food, which I was introduced to as a ten-year-old by my aunt and uncle. It is part of my cookbook in progress called The Gutless Gourmet. 1 8-oz […]
Aug 1st, 2008 by Cate Miller
Random Exposure
By Bridget Brave To quote Ansel Adams, infinitely more knowledgeable about photography as art form than I: “There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs.” For the third annual Random Exposure photography contest, VITAL’s judges honored that exact notion, finding in each of our winners something striking, something amazing. Photographs capture a certain moment in time, and thereby capture the emotion behind that moment. Joy, despair, victory, heartbreak – a well-timed photograph can place the viewer inside the moment, freezing it forever in time. Whatever that image might make you feel, the fact that it makes you feel something is a testament to its power. That power is what distinguishes a picture from a great picture. Each of the selected winners brought one of those amazing moments to light. Children frolic and play; we see beauty, isolation, adoration. Amateur photographer next to professional, the images on the following pages were created with similar purpose: to record an instant in time that forces a response. Black and white and color photographs were judged in each category: action, abstract, landscape/still life, portrait and motorcycles, with a separate winner for amateur and professional in each. We’d like to extend our eternal gratitude to the distinguished panel of judges who carefully evaluated nearly 300 entries: Tim Abler, Chair of the undergraduate department of art at Cardinal Stritch University; Scott Krahn, a veteran Creative Director at BVK; and highly accomplished commercial photographer Scott Ritenour. Many thanks also to Cori Coffman, Executive Director of the Eisner American Museum of Advertising and Design for doing so much to ensure that both the judging and the upcoming celebration maintain the highest possible standards and for providing one year Eisner memberships to all of our winners. To experience and respond to these photographic moments firsthand, please join VITAL at the Eisner on Thursday, August 14 for Random Exposure: The Show. The winners, jury selections, and VITAL’s staff picks will be on display, and you’ll have an opportunity to vote for your favorite as well as win prizes.VS BEST OF SHOW Best Portrait – Amateur Nikki McGuinnis, “Keep Refrigerated” Best Action – Amateur Nikki McGuinnis, “Lennox” Nikki McGuinnis began by watching. Then she took to documenting what she saw – or imagined. She has studied shape, symmetry and balance through drawing, painting and most keenly through photography and image manipulation. She is most moved by saturation and intimacy and works to recognize opportunities to capture images that offer the brightness of life with the promise of pain – a bruised beauty. meancamp.com Best Action – Professional Nathaniel Davauer, “The Main Event” Born and raised in the countryside of southern Wisconsin, Nathaniel Davauer spent his formative years working on the family farm. He left the cows behind to earn an art degree at UW Madison in the 90s. His love for photography developed while living and working in China. He photographs people, weddings, sports and kids but his passion still lies in fleeting, mysterious moments captured while […]
Aug 1st, 2008 by Vital Archives
20×20
Photos by Dane Haman Jon Mueller, co-manager of Pecha Kucha in Milwaukee. pecha kucha (n) /puh-CHAH-kuh-chah/ Japanese origin. 1. the art of conversation; 2. noisy chatter; 3. coming August 26 to Milwaukee. Imagine if before facing the auditorium on your big presentation day, you could – without inhibition or shutting your office door – swig from that desk-drawer bourbon flask? Exchange auditorium for watering hole, bourbon swig for beer break and big presentation for a brief one, and what’s left is even better: Pecha Kucha Night (PKN), an idea devised by two Tokyo-based European architects in 2003 that gives the projector + presenter + audience equation a novel twist. Though liquid courage is encouraged, PKN is not about the booze; it’s an opportunity to meet, show ideas to the public, and network — with rules. In other words, “productive socializing,” says Jon Mueller, who teams up with 800-CEO-READ (8cr) colleague Kate Mytty to manage Milwaukee’s only official Pecha Kucha franchise. MEET A bulk bookseller 25 years in the business and division of local independent shop Harry W. Schwartz, 8cr “works directly with business authors to help them customize books, organize events, and write about the current and best ideas in business thought.” Clearly much more than merchant, they also print reviews and essays in their quarterly magazine and feature manifestos for change from diverse, yet optimistic, perspectives on their culturally conscious ChangeThis website. “8cr follows business thought and how it changes people’s lives, and Pecha Kucha follows people’s ideas in action,” says Mueller. “There is really a fine line between the two.” Logically, 8cr and PKN aligned, and Milwaukee is now among a worldwide network of 129 (and growing) participating cities. “The amount of work that’s involved would turn many people away from organizing it,” says Mueller, “but we think it’s an important thing to do and we have a lot of fun with it.” SHOW Trademarked and copyrighted by inventive founding architectural firm Klein Dytham, the Pecha Kucha format requires that all slideshows displayed are a standard “20×20” — 20 slides, programmed to automatically advance after 20 seconds on screen — a style that keeps both the speaker and the audience alert and captivated. Synchronizing flow to a fixed timetable is a challenge that is comfortably limiting. “The simplicity is what makes it really effective,” says Mueller. Do the math and that’s 6 minutes and 40 seconds a pop in PowerPoint heaven. But this brevity “can still become an eternity in the wrong hands,” explains Mueller. “Someone basically giving a six-minute commercial, using nothing but charts and graphs, or other typical business type mumblings, doesn’t do much good in any setting,” Brady Street’s stylish Hi Hat Garage included. “I immediately thought the Garage would be perfect,” says Mueller of the space where PKN #1 was held in June of this year. The space offers A/V equipment, a capacity for 160, and an ambiance that most hotel conference rooms lack. The bar’s owner, Scott Johnson, whom Mueller has known personally […]
Aug 1st, 2008 by Amber Herzog
I want to believe
A couple of weekends ago I painted my back landing. When I bought my house in early 2001 almost every wall was a flat white – supposedly to attract buyers – and I’ve been meaning to remedy this ever since. But time does have a way of slipping into the future and over the ensuing years my interior has devolved from boring to shabby through the hard wear only a young family can deliver. I was finally motivated to start with the hall by the relatively narrow scope of the project, seven years of little handprints that would no longer wash off and the unexpected acquisition of a cute storage cabinet rescued from my neighbors’ curb. In a fit of largesse, I also bought curtains, rugs and hanging shelves. Forty labor hours and a hundred bucks later I had the sweetest little entryway you can imagine – charming, really, in robin’s egg blue against dark wood, white and brushed stainless accessories showing off my vintage coffee pot collection to perfection. Most people enter my home through the back door, so it’s a great first impression. But now when you walk through to the kitchen, its flaws are immediately evident. Ugly, faded wallpaper peels from more than one corner, the cabinet bases are chipped, the ceiling fan is grotesque and the top of the fridge doubles as cereal box storage. The table and chairs are all wrong and there’s nowhere to put everything away. Frankly, the whole thing is a disaster and it’s making me crazy. Meanwhile, the kitchen continues to be the center of our home, piles of papers and crowded counters be damned. The peeling paper, dust in the corners and imperfect linoleum don’t seem to deter everyone from gathering there, leaving the typically tidy (and much more attractive) living room to gather dust. I’ve tried pointing out the kitchen’s flaws, but no one else seems concerned, suggesting that some well-chosen color would fix it right up. I’m less optimistic: it’s not as simple as throwing down a coat of paint when you have the organizational issues innate to an 83-year-old kitchen – a tiny, counter-less mess with (somehow) three doorways and two windows, plus ancient, energy-sucking appliances. To make any true functional improvements would cost at least a thousand bucks. And that wouldn’t even get me a dishwasher. I feel stuck. I recently opened a home equity line of credit to have my roof fixed, and there’s still plenty left to borrow on, but I’m worried about the payments. I’m not as over-extended as some people, but my apple cart could certainly tip over with a stroke or two of severely bad luck. In other words, I’m just like you, your neighbor and just about everyone else: I’m anxious about what’s still to come and have no idea how bad it’s really going to get. For now, at least, Milwaukee doesn’t have it as bad as many other cities. There’s little comfort there, I know, but at least […]
Aug 1st, 2008 by Jon Anne Willow
The Faint
Despite Omaha boys The Faint’s efforts to shock on 2004’s unsubtle Wet from Birth – an overzealous, not-so-scientific take on biology – it was the popularity of a subsequent internet game (allowing haters to drop-kick the dance-punk five piece — for points!) that landed them on the cultural radar. Though the boys have shown strong stomachs in past releases in regards to, say, bodily secretions (“Fish in Womb” satisfies the gross quota here), their fifth full-length’s opener “Get Seduced” draws a clear line of disgust at tabloid mania, where “hot lights” are cast on celebrity hook-ups and cellulite snapshots can turn a pretty penny. Steady single “The Geeks Were Right,” Chopsticks-esque “Mirror Error” and mechanical “A Battle Hymn for Children” concentrate on similar culture-obsessed ground. The first imagines a world dominated by pasty-legged eggheads; the second contemplates face trading (Travolta v. Cage, anyone?); the last satirizes American children’s sense of privilege and their unrestricted access to violent playthings. After beating a few dead horses, The Faint think cross-section and bring focus to relationships and memories. Transforming a tree stump and a 12-foot-plank into a one-way transport to an alternate universe, tightly coiled “Fulcrum and Lever” draws flashbacks to terrifying 80s claymation short Inside Out Boy. “Psycho” (“Forget the words I said/I was not myself/I never really thought you were psycho“) enlists a rock bass-and-drums backbeat to create one pleasurably guilty spree – so guilty, in fact, methinks The Faint doth protest, but still check perezhilton.com as regularly we do.
Aug 1st, 2008 by Amber Herzog
Heartbeat City
Photos by Erin Landry “If you were standing in this spot 150 years ago, you might have been run over by a train.” On a cul-de-sac on the Hank Aaron State Trail – fish leaping in the Menomonee River below, the breeze carrying the scent of summer wildflowers – this interpretive sign is hard to swallow. Before its industrialization, the Menomonee Valley was a natural wild rice marsh, an almost inconceivable place to build industry. “It’s like building on oatmeal,” says Corey Zetts, Project Director for the Menomonee Valley Partners. The land was so swampy that the first rail tracks Byron Kilbourn laid sunk into the marsh overnight. But engineering and ingenuity persevered, and Kilbourn’s Milwaukee & Waukesha Railroad spent years filling the valley with earth and timber to firm up the ground. By the Civil War, the Milwaukee Road had turned the city into an agricultural and industrial powerhouse. In 1895, the Falk Corporation was established in the Valley after Herman Falk’s failing family brewery, built in the Valley in 1856, burned down. Together, Falk, the Milwaukee Road and the dozens of other breweries, stockyards, mills, packing plants and factories in the Menomonee Valley would become Milwaukee’s heart center for almost a hundred years, supplying thousands of jobs to a growing metropolis and bringing citizens from all sides of the city together in labor. But by the time sprawl and technology began to suck the wind out of the Valley’s sails after WWII, what was once a thriving channel of wilderness and wildlife was left polluted, smelly and blighted. There are stories in the Valley that exist beyond the industry triumphant/industry defeated dialectic. Natural history, of course, goes so far back as to render human history irrelevant. In Miller Park’s lot is a wall of 400 million-year-old rock – a Silurian reef, actually, dating from before the time the city was above water. And a huge part of the Valley’s story is a narrative largely omitted from our national history: the site of Miller Park was a gathering place for native tribes, who would meet during the rice harvest. At the top of that hill, the limbs of a tree are bent to point the way to the marsh. The word “Menomonee” means wild rice; when Potawatomi Bingo Casino, in 1991, chose the Menomonee Valley as the site of their development, they were choosing to return to the ancestral homeland. “The history is incredible,” says Melissa Cook, manager of the Hank Aaron State Trail, which cuts through the Valley like a vein. Her mother’s family lived on 39th and Michigan in Merrill Park; her relatives worked for Falk and the Milwaukee Road. The neighborhoods surrounding the Valley were built by investors in the railroad shops; today, they are some of the most diverse and densely populated districts in the state. The Menomonee Valley – “borrowed” from its native residents and the natural order – provided the backbone for Milwaukee’s livelihood. Now, after more than 20 years of vision, planning […]
Aug 1st, 2008 by Amy Elliott
The Police
By Jim Cryns You can identify the number of 80s bands that can currently sell out a major venue on one hand. The Rolling Stones and The Police are among first that come to mind. The Police are and always have been a hard-hitting band with more power than three men should be able to provide. Together, they flex musical muscles greater than ensembles with twice the members. On a steamy summer night on the shores of Lake Michigan, Sting seemed genuinely happy to be in Milwaukee. On previous tours decades (or lifetimes) ago, he appeared to have a huge chip on his shoulder and an Elvis sneer, all part of his bad-boy image. As the band released Ghost in the Machine in 1981, Sting appeared to rage against the machine as well. Last Friday he was more avuncular and seemingly approachable. And some thirty years after the band first roared onto the U.S. music scene, Sting’s voice miraculously hasn’t lost a step. From the opening tune, Sting was into the gig, smiling, smirking, making eye contact with the front row. He was also sweating up a storm in his black pullover, black jeans and black combat boots. He grooved and swaggered with his well-worn bass flailing in his arms, sporting a rugged beard. Andy Summers sported what can only be described as a cross between Seinfeld’s puffy shirt and Jimmy Buffet Parrot-Head blouse. Stewart Copeland was just plain cool in a Police jersey and head band. Since the band’s last tour in 1984, technology has developed exponentially. Video screens and HD cameras capture every nuance of a performance, and The Police utilized the medium effectively at the Marcus Amphitheater. Four screens captured the finger-work of Andy Summers, the frenzied percussion precision of Stewart Copeland, and the charismatic visage of Sting and all he embodies. During “Invisible Sun,” the screens displayed children from throughout some of the world’s most devastated places, as photographed by friend and photographer Bobby Sager. The images are powerful, even heart-stopping. Twenty-five years ago the it was possible to miss the message in the melody; not so now. It took this series of images to bring the song to its full fruition. The band was tight both musically and in physical proximity, as if to give the impression (maybe to the guys themselves?) that the show was happening in a much more intimate venue. Copeland’s drum kit was quite close to the edge of the stage. Sting and Summers were right on the flanks of Copeland, rarely straying from their microphones. The Police didn’t need to jump around to entertain the crowd, their huge catalog of songs strutted ably on its own. While the production values were as impressive as one would expect, they were used to good effect rather than to upstage the music itself. Like all good maestros of rock and roll reunion tours, Sting cajoled the crowd to sing along, and Milwaukee didn’t disappoint. The band was playful, perhaps a bit mischievous, like […]
Jul 29th, 2008 by Vital Archives
This is Entitled
By Jaymee Sherman On a muggy Thursday evening they filed into the dark space in search of something cool and refreshing. But it wasn’t air conditioning or beer on tap that beckoned them – it was hip and, for the most part, satisfying theater that was anything but escapist. Tonight, beyond the Fourth Wall, the audience would be invited to explore along with the actors the existential ruminations of three playwrights. The Alchemist Theatre in Bay View currently hosts Insurgent Theatre’s original series of meta-theatre pieces that all take aim at the Fourth Wall – prodding it, peeking through it, breaking it down and sometimes completely demolishing it. At evening’s end one is left to ponder just when fiction and reality began to merge and where scripted lines gave way to improv. Everything melds into one and the rules fall by the wayside. The evening started out with a bang with Russ Bickerstaff’s Please Wait Ten Minutes, the story of two hired assassins, polar opposites in demeanor, who debate over their profession, life and the findings of the Warren Commission. Pensive Nova, played deftly by Peterson Kuyk-White, laments over the absence of honesty and morality in the modern world. Soma, played to perfection by Kirk Thompson, is a guy who asks no questions and just gets it done. When responding to Nova’s sudden meeting with conscience he replies with a sardonic, “We’re assassins,” and then the play takes off. Thompson’s comic prowess and his unselfconscious portrayal make Soma a likeable guy – for a hitman. Nova, the neophyte, is more philosophy professor than assassin’s protégé. The Fourth Wall begins to crack when Nova admits to being ill-at-ease in the presence of witnesses. At any moment, their target could appear and they’d be called to action before this strange group of people, the audience. Soma completely dismantles the Fourth Wall when he reminds Nova that they’re only actors playing a part. No one will really be killed, therefore no one need feel guilty. Thereafter, while seated at a table, the actors flip through the script referring to lines of dialog and the playwright’s intent in a casual and off-the-cuff style. Their skillfulness with comedy and their unaffected delivery throughout made laughter both easy and irresistible. Companion piece Systems by Peter J Woods featured the delightfully fresh and funny Tracy Doyle as the superficial Diawl and Cynthia Kmak as Mior, the perfect picture of today’s modern worker lost in the system and trying to find a way out. Another study in opposites, here two people pressed into the same lifestyle cope with futility – one thrives, the other squirms, frets and struggles to find meaning where there is none. Diawl, content to live a lifetime of redundancy, is cheery and playful, taunting her co-worker and companion in a space-age style version of the office cubicle. She jabs at Mior with impish glee as Mior strains to lift herself out of an existence devoid of promise. Beyond the Fourth Wall, where the light […]
Jul 22nd, 2008 by Vital Archives
Twombly Tale
Cy Twombly, “Untitled” (1967) There it hangs in Gallery 18 at the Milwaukee Art Museum: Cy Twombly’s “Untitled” (1967). I first saw it three decades ago, and it’s still a thrill. It’s been moved here and there over the years, most recently during the re-hanging of the contemporary galleries. I had a moment of panic when I found it missing from the east wall of the Flagg Gallery, replaced by a really bad painting. “How could they?” I wondered. Was “Untitled” stored in the bowels of the museum? In 1968, the museum purchased this particular Twombly from the great abstract painter’s first solo retrospective at MAM. In those days, I had yet to visit the museum because I was busy raising three kids, studying for a degree in Art Education, and trying out French and Greek recipes on my suburban friends. Years later, around 1980, I decided to leave my tri-level and work as a museum volunteer. Russell Bowman was chief curator, and my assigned space at MAM was in the Cudahy Gallery of Wisconsin Art, tucked into a small room on the first floor of what I now call “the old museum.” I must have discovered “Untitled” during a lunch break. My Art Education training was just getting started and most of the images I’d experienced were in my History of Art book and/or slides projected on a screen in a stuffy lecture room at Carroll College, where I frequently fell asleep wondering if I’d made a mistake in career choices. Only one piece of art hung in my tri-level: a big blue moonscape which I purchased at an art fair. The artist delivered it to my home and together we hung it over my gold brocade couch, a room full of faux Country French furniture and windows draped in fussy brocade drapes. I wonder what ever happened to that painting. The artist died a few years ago, but what I remember about him isn’t the moonscape, but rather the fact that he strolled around summertime art fairs wearing a leopard skin bikini. His work was the total opposite of Twombly’s. By the mid-80s, I had divorced and moved to an 800-sq-ft. home on some Kettle Moraine acreage. I started trying my hand at making paintings and took a modest job as an art teacher in Pewaukee, where the idea of “art” was to give the kids something to take home to hang on the family fridge. When I suggested to the confused administrator that art could be taught to elementary kids, not as a brief cut-and-paste session, but rather by teaching them how to “see” at an early age, he turned pale and replied, “Oh, the parents wouldn’t like it if the kids didn’t bring something home.” “Untitled” was, and still is, the best teacher I ever had. No fuss, no nonsense, no glued-on artifacts dangling, or gold leaf applied to bring on some dazzle. I doubt if there are many viewers who would tap Twombly as their […]
Jul 21st, 2008 by Stella Cretek
Pride and Prejudice
Jane Austen’s romantic drama Pride and Prejudice, originally published in 1813, is one of the most beloved and revisited classics of the English literary canon. Its adaptations have been numerous, from standard-issue stage and screen presentations to Broadway musicals, cheeky modern-day retellings like Bridget Jones’s Diary and Bollywood flicks. Audiences will inevitably bring all of their love, excitement and expectations to this month’s production of the Jon Jory adaptation at Concordia University’s Acacia Theatre. The charismatic Anne Miller stars as Elizabeth Bennet, a sharp-witted young woman living in England in the early 19th century. Elizabeth is a strong-willed woman who isn’t nearly as enchanted with the idea of romance as her two sisters. Things change for her as she meets the alarmingly conservative, even-tempered Mr. Darcy (Neil Vanides). The two begin a reluctant romance destined to shake both of their conceptions of social reality. Jon Jory’s script cuts the lengthy novel into a very expedient three hour drama, reminiscent of Deborah Moggach’s much-nominated 2005 screen adaptation. The Acacia adaptation, directed by Bradley Winkler, lacks the finesse of that film adaptation, but manages more than enough humanity to recommend it. While the drastic differences in wealth present in that film aren’t seen onstage here, a profound sense of social stratification permeates the production. Of particular note is Mr. Darcy’s first appearance – Darcy (Neil Vanides) is a deftly carved statuette, silent and motionless in a mass of conservative dancers in a huge ballroom. Bradley Winkler orchestrates large groups of actors with excellence in the few scenes that require them. Notable performances on the edges of the production include Glenna Gustin as Elizabeth’s mother, who seems overwhelmingly focused on the wellbeing of her daughters, and Richard Gustin’s shrewd interpretation of the Elizabeth’s father, the patriarch of the Bennet household who refuses to be completely reverent to those of higher social strata. Miller and Vanides make for an attractive romantic center, but they seem to lack some sort of chemistry as a pair. Though Miller musters emotional strength as Elizabeth, Vanides’ deftly aloof social awkwardness keeps him at a distance that precludes any notion of intimacy. This is disappointing, as the two of them look exceptional together. Had there been more of an effort to bring the two together emotionally, this could have been a compelling production overall. As it is, this is a reasonably satisfying stage adaptation of Austen’s story that should serve as an appetizer for fans of the novel until the Milwaukee Rep stages its own adaptation in March. It should be noted that, although the Rep’s Quadracci Powerhouse production will doubtlessly be more extravagant than Acacia’s, the money spent here is visually impressive. The set may not look like much, but when paired with Denise Elfe and Marie Wilke’s sumptuous costume design, there’s a potent visual reality to the production that leaves little to be desired. VS Acacia Theatre’s production of Pride and Prejudice runs through July 20 at Concordia University’s Todd Wehr Auditorium. (414) 744-5995 or acaciatheatre.com
Jul 18th, 2008 by Russ Bickerstaff
