ESDgate?

A post yesterday over at Culturebot references a letter, sent out by Carolyn Cantor of Edge Theatre in promotion of Essential Self-Defense, which uses pullquotes from three reviews by bloggers. As David and I are two of the three, and the Culturebot post might lead you to think we were plied with liquor and free shrimp, I wanted to set the record straight.

I was approached with the offer of complimentary tickets during the first week of previews, in exchange for posting a discount code in advance of seeing the show and for writing about it after I had here, on my own blog, and at New Theater Corps. Although it is always a tacit understanding when approached with comps that I was free to write what I pleased, in this case I was assured, plainly and in writing, that I could write either positively or negatively. I was the only person approached here; David went and got a ticket on his own and wasn't part of any blog promotion.

The Culturebot post is primarily concerned with what it thinks is an unconvincing argument in Cantor's letter which depicts the Times as out of step with the general opinion on the show; I can not speak to any of that. But I am uncomfortable with what seems to be an implication that there's something underhanded that bloggers like myself were invited and that our positive reviews were quoted; should the quotes from the traditional critics also have come with the disclosure that they were comped? The Culturebot post seems to say that the disclosure of blogger comps would have put our opinions in perspective. It's distressing to see a prominent, trusted blog such as Culturebot take a position such as this, that implicitly depicts bloggers as easily dazzled and swayed by freebies. If "the blogosphere needs to make further inroads into theatre" as the post says, the implication that we can be had for cheap ain't nothing but a dead end.

A Lie of the Mind

A strong ensemble cast makes this revival of A Lie of the Mind into an enthralling evening of theater ... but also a maddening midnight. By hour three, the background bluegrass is annoying, the limited staging grows stifling, and we're dying for a climax. Buried Child is more efficient, but Shepard's writing here, particularly when focused on Beth (and the excellent Laura Schwenninger, who plays her), makes one want to linger languorously in the language. I just wish the third act weren't so reliant on theatrical metaphor: Daryl Boling doesn't even fully render the transitions between the two tragic lovers; the leap into "stage-time" is awkward and the lies of the mind don't have enough life to them. I recommend it anyway, for the outstanding performances and the intimate theater, but watch your blood sugar levels for Act 3.

[Read on]

Frost/Nixon

photo: Alastair Muir

Peter Morgan's play, concerning some of the machinations that led to Richard Nixon's confession of guilt while interviewed on television by David Frost, is mostly a comedy about the media and politics. The play is a lot of fun as far as it goes, briskly entertaining and engrossing even at two hours with no intermission, but it's facile, especially to those of us who have serious objections to seeing Richard Nixon depicted as something of an endearing, doddering old man without any trace of craftiness. Nixon's not far from being a Neil Simon character here: funny-thorny but finally tame. (Please understand that it isn't that I object to a sympathetic depiction of Nixon - I hold Secret Honor in a high place, for instance - it's that there's something that feels dishonest here. This Dick as written isn't the least bit Tricky). The play's strongest political statement is less about Nixon and more about the illegalities that are possible in an abuse of Presidential power - several moments in the play can easily be analogized to Bush, and the audience picks up on them hungrily. The play has been directed with savvy and economy and the acting is phenomenal - Michael Sheen doesn't shy away from playing some of Frost's less attractive qualities but manages to keep him likeable in the gladhanding sense of the word, and Frank Langella, given the confines of what the role in this play will and will not allow, is astounding: he seems to have found an emotional reason for every one of Nixon's mannerisms. Our greatest living American stage actor? Very possibly.

Scituate

photo: Leon Joosen

If I had only one word to describe Martin Casella's play, about a man who copes with the death of his lover by not getting out of bed, it would be "heartfelt". While the play strikes a few false notes and could stand to be streamlined, overall it has the cherishable feeling of something lived-through that's been tenderly delivered to us. Although most everyone who has experienced a profound loss will be able to identify with Stewart (Chad Hoeppner - a sensitive, finely modulated performance) and his need to immobilize, the play is accessible to anyone who has had to draw strength from the loving support of friends and family. Two stand-out performances in the supporting cast: Laurence Lau and Stefanie Zadravec, who bring an abundance of warmth and humor to the proceedings as married friends of Stewart's. Extra fun the night I went: Conan O'Brien, in the audience.

Also blogged by: [David]

The Dark at the Top of the Stairs

The dramaturg for The Dark at the Top of the Stairs wants to know why William Inge has been overshadowed by Miller, O'Neill, and Williams . . . well, it's not that Inge can't write, it's that his particular brand of heartland tragedy has been overshadowed by more theatric and less natural works, specifically those of Sam Shepard. The Dark at the Top of the Stairs is very much inside-the-box, and the big topics that Inge broaches--wife-beating, suicide, and late-stage depression--were perhaps the darknesses he couldn't surpass. After much dithering in the first act, we get to a strong, sturdy second act that uses Inge's awkward grace and comedy to illustrate life in 1923, insecurities and all. But then the play settles into an irresolute third act that explains everything from arm's length before dropping it all. From the actors to the directors to the playwright, The Dark at the Top of the Stairs is a play that's stuck at the bottom of the stairs, afraid to take any risks: it's a first step, but nothing more.

[Read on]

Serendib

****
Ensemble Studio Theater

Who does playwright David Zellnik think he is writing about scientific researchers studying monkeys in some far east land? Wait... it says here in the program that he actually WENT to Sri Lanka and worked among macaque researchers. Oh! Well then! Carry on! This comedy about documentary filmmakers stirring up a community of scientists and macaques was lively, smart and highly theatrical. With the scientists manipulating puppets of their macaque counterparts, the similarities between man and monkey were addressed in a very fun and unique way. Everything from the sound design, to the (Gilligan's Island-esqe) scenery, to the acting/writing/direction tended to suggest that this production deserved an official Playbill® and not the xeroxed, folded-over white paper program we received as our ticket.
Also blogged by [Aaron]