Torera

Torera vividly depicts the life of Elena, the daughter of the housekeeper in the house of a great torero, who desperately wants to be a bullfighter. The son of the torero is Elena's best friend, and he has access to all of the training and equipment that Elena craves.  

Jacqueline Guillen and the Company of Torera
 Photo: Joan Marcus

With its intriguing concept, excellent acting, imaginative direction, beautiful scenery and costumes, strong writing, and alluring dance, the show has much to offer. The whole, unfortunately, is a bit smaller than the sum of the parts, as the production occasionally drags, the plot is predictable, and the bullfighting scenes fail to evoke a sense of danger. Also, there is a hole in the entire premise, which would be a spoiler to share, but it definitely lessens the impact of the show. However, because of its very real strengths, I'm glad I saw it.

Wendy Caster

• Playwright: Monet Hurst-Mendoza 
• Direction and choreography: Tatiana Pandiani 
• Cast: Jorge Cordova, Christian Jesús Galvis, Jacqueline Guillén, Elena Hurst Pastora, Jared Machado, Andrea Soto
• Set design: Emmie Finckel
• Costume design: Rodrigo Muñoz
• Lighting design: Yuki Nakase Link
• Sound design and composition: G Clausen
• Movement and intimacy coordinators: Carter Gill, Skye Bronfenbrenner
• Bullfighting consultant: Rodrigo Ortiz

This Is Government

At the start of This Is Government, written by Nina Kissinger and directed by Sarah Norris, three young adults sit in a drab congressional office (nicely realized by Daniel Allen). Against the back wall are a dozen or so file cabinets, some piled horizontally on others. Kaz, the badly paid staff assistant, is busy working; the other two, Emi and Tip, even worse paid interns, are pretty much farting around. 

In front: Vann Dukes, Kleo Mitrokostas, Charles Hsu.
In back: Susan Lynskey.
Photo: Burdette Parks

While Kaz (the excellent Vann Dukes) tries to convince the interns to demonstrate even a hint of professionalism, Emi and Tip remain focused on why the supposedly decent congressman they work for seems to be turning his back on an important health bill (Kaz says it's just political maneuvering). They also talk a lot about Stevie, a frequent caller desperate for a few minutes with the congressman. She also wants to chat, and Tip enjoys their conversations. Stevie has only good things to say about "the phone people."

This beginning of the play is reasonably interesting but generic. The banter is only occasionally amusing, and the uneven acting doesn't add much. 

Then a lockdown is announced in response to a threat to the Capitol. Kaz, Emi, and Tip are stuck in their small office for hours with little in the way of food or comfort. Even after the Capitol is evacuated of congresspeople, the people in the other buildings--the nobodies, like this threesome--remain locked in. 

To their astonishment, it turns out that Stevie is the source of the threat. Until now the audience has only heard about Stevie, but now we get to meet her--and now the show really starts. Playwright Kissinger does her best writing for Stevie, making her real in a way the others just aren't. In addition, Susan Lynskey's performance as Stevie is extraordinary, full of humanity, subtle, and perfectly pitched. Just watching Lynskey do her stuff is by far the highlight of the evening.

This Is Government is reasonably good--there's some funny stuff, nice moments, and entertaining direction, with an underlying desire to say real, important, things about  politics. But the show would be far more powerful, I think, if the interns were more fully developed and the opening section were cut in half. 

Wendy Caster

The Essentialisn’t

Roughly a third of the way through The Essentialisn't (great title), writer-director-performer Elisa Davis quotes Wikipedia:

“Essentialism is the view that every entity has a set of attributes that are necessary to its identity and function."

To a large extent essentialism is a more formal way of saying stereotyping. While both are based on shallow, inaccurate ideas, both are frequently embraced (not always consciously) by many people. Many, many people. The practical result of essentialism is that someone may feel that they know a person who they have never met, assuming that the person indeed possesses those preconceived attributes. Essentialism is a foundation of racism, sexism, and homophobia, and it also informs the thinking of many (many, many) good-hearted, non-hateful people. Like me, and very possibly you.

Photo: Daniel J. Vasquez

Davis pairs her dissection and dismissal of essentialism with a simple, powerful question, "Can you be Black and not perform?" Her answer is also simple and powerful: "No."

And there is a third aspect to the show: Black women's hair. It's discussed and used as costumes, and its images run through the show. 

Photo: Daniel J. Vasquez

This might suggest that The Essentialisn't is dry or preachy, but it is anything but. Davis has written a series of songs and performance sketches (for want of a better term), some straightforward, some allusive, some heartbreaking, many funny. From bobbing in a large glass box of water, roughly the size of a standalone shower; to fighting the stereotype that all black women can sing by dissecting/destroying "And I am telling you, I'm not going"; to providing an insight of what freedom might mean to someone long enslaved; to a three-way tug of war over a long braid of hair, Davis offers emotions and humor and humanity, and challenges our view of the world--and her own.

Davis's electronic soul score is effective and often beautiful, as is her voice. Her performance skills are excellent. Her bravery underlies all she does, as she takes us on an often painful journey.

The physical presentation is evocative and engaging: soundscape and sound design by Rucyl Mills, lighting design by Cha See, video design by Skye Mahaffie, and scenic and costume consultation by Peter Born.

Photo: Daniel J. Vasquez

There is much to admire here--in fact, I suspect that pretty much everything here is worth admiring. But here's the catch: the speed of the presentation and the quality of the sound design made much of the show unintelligible. I needed to read the script afterward to totally get what I had seen.

In general I think suggestions to artists from outsiders are tacky, so I instead have a request for Davis et al: would you consider adding words to the projections? Not closed captioning per se, but, rather, enough words to clarify what is being said. It would help the audience follow what is going on, and, really, we don't want to miss anything.

Wendy Caster

Twelfth Night, or What You Will

It's easier to enjoy Twelfth Night, or What You Will, the inaugural production at the newly redone Delacorte, if you accept that it's not exactly Twelfth Night. The show is lively, funny, a fabulous night at the theatre, but it mostly lacks emotional resonance and meaning. Twelfth Night Lite, if you will.

I have two opposing, completely honest reviews. Review one is how I felt sitting in the theatre. I was happy, laughing, loving the cool faux-autumn air, and feeling so grateful to watch such a starry cast. (Peter Dinklage! Sandra Oh! Daphne Rubin-Vega! Jesse Tyler Ferguson! Et cetera!) Review two is how I felt when I was telling my sister about the show the next day. Although I said a lot of positive things, she said, "I feel a but coming on." And the but was this: on reflection, the production felt like nothing. It's definitely a problem when the curtain call is one of the best parts of the show.

[spoiler]

The one moment that lands as fully developed and true-to-the-play is the reunion of the twins, each of whom thought the other was dead. Played by actual siblings Lupita Nyong'o and Junior Nyong'o, the twins are dressed and coifed identically, underlining their strong resemblance. They're both fine actors, and the scene would have worked with less resemblance, but the similarity adds an extra level of truth. 

What really makes this scene so strong, however, is that the reunion is spoken entirely in Swahili. They're not just finding each other; they're finding themselves, their language, their home. It is deeply moving, particularly in the context of the shallowness of the rest of the production. 

[end of spoiler]

It feels churlish to complain about a solid, star-filled, laugh-filled evening at the Delacorte. I truly had fun. But I was hoping to see Twelfth Night, not Twelfth Night Lite.

Wendy Caster

The Third Gilmore Girl: A Memoir (book review)

Kelly Bishop writing a memoir--doesn't that sound exciting? The stories she must have! The gossip! The attitude!

Nah. The Third Gilmore Girl is a short, polite, mildly interesting  book. She covers A Chorus Line and The Gilmore Girls fairly comprehensively, but that's really all she focuses on workwise. She spends barely a page on Bunheads! Many gigs go by with barely a mention.

Here are my takeaways: More of A Chorus Line is based on Bishop's life than I realized. She loved being on The Gilmore Girls and was terribly sad when Edward Herrman died. She's very close with Priscilla Lopez. Throughout her life she has had a fiery desire to work, and she only wants money she earns herself. Her husband was ill for much of their marriage and they were often separated due to her work, but they were very happy together. 

I love autobiographies that provide a 3D sense of the writer. I love feeling that you've almost hung out together. (See, for example, Chita Rivera's autobiography.) To the teeny tiny extent that The Third Girlmore Girl gives a sense of hanging out with Bishop, it is clear that she'd rather be somewhere else.

Wendy Caster

MISS MAY DOES NOT EXIST: The Life and Work of Elaine May, Hollywood’s Hidden Genius (book review)

While the subtitle of this book calls Elaine May "Hollywood's Hidden Genius," it also gives full attention to May's theatrical career, which has included writing, acting, and directing.

May first came to prominence doing comedy evenings with Mike Nichols. They practiced a form of comedy that was satirical, pointed, compassionate, and ground-breaking. They achieved a great deal of acclaim and made connections that would help them through their careers for the next many decades. 

Author Carrie Courogen discusses May's work in great detail and she shares fascinating stories and quotations from existing interviews. May herself clearly had nothing to do with the book, which is in keeping with her lifelong desire to maintain extremely private privacy.

Courogen deals with the absence of May's point of view by guessing what it might be. Too many sentences begin with "Perhaps" and similar conditionals. Did May quit job A because she didn't like her boss or didn't feel well or thought the work wasn't good enough or or or? Courogen doesn't know the answers, but that doesn't stop her from guessing.

Courogen also make the sort of mistakes that can make one wonder how accurate any of the book is. For example, she writes

What she's actually referring to is not a 50-point word but a 50-point bonus, which you get for using all seven of your tiles in a move. This is not only not "near-impossible," it is actually pretty common. Many Scrabble players, not only the best of the best, get this bonus regularly. Tournament players get these bonuses multiple times a game.

This mistake is not a huge deal in and of itself, but it is only one of many. So how careful and accurate is Courogen with May's life?

I ended up finding this book worth reading/skimming, but with a big ole' grain of salt.

Wendy Caster