The Tempest

It looks like you kids are all as busy as I've been, but I'm finding that blogging can be entirely necessary in the valiant preservation of sanity, so I'm going to keep trying to move ahead with it.

All week, I've been trying to come up with a word to accurately describe Steppenwolf's production of The Tempest. I've come to the conclusion that there isn't one. A word has yet to be introduced into the vast English language that will appropriately describe this production. I'm thinking of making one up, for this very purpose. But I don't know if Merriam Webster is that into suggestions. But please understand before I go on that this word, whatever it is, would be positive, not negative.

I saw the show on Tuesday night, the one night a week I don't have class. And I find that if I go on a Tuesday, I'll have an easier time getting student tickets - boy, did I. I was in center orchestra row D, for $15. The folks sitting next to me probably paid at least $60. Would have been worth $60 though.

...Even as I'm sitting here typing, I'm having a difficult time reviewing this play. It's extraordinary, first of all. It commands your attention literally within the first second (it also may well be the loudest play I've ever seen - the woman beside me jumped a foot when it began). There should be a warning - this play is not for the weak of heart. It's certainly the most exciting production of a Shakespeare play I've even seen. And easily the most daring. The way it's done, it's almost a musical. A hip musical. There's a dance sequence in the second act that you really and truly need to see to believe. Even as I was watching it, I had to blink and remind myself that I wasn't experiencing some kind of tremendously entertaining acid trip.

If you're in Chicago, see this. That's about the best I can do. I recommend it, highly, though I'm having no luck at all conveying it. Just see it.

The song of forgetting

I still exist, I promise. I've just been trying to get through this semester. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and it's becoming increasingly frustrating that it's taking me so long to get there.

I changed my major, which was an extremely monumental step for me. I never thought I would want to do anything other than screenwriting, but after I lot of soul-searching, deep thought, and a long string of conversations with people I trust and admire, I have changed my major to Theater, with a concentration in Directing. And it feels more right than anything I've done in a long, long time. I'm disenchanted with film, and theater is a thrill that never goes away. I want that. And also, I feel like it just makes sense, because I'm in the perfect place to do this - not only am I in Chicago, but I'm at Columbia, which an extraordinary school for theater. My directing role model, Tony winner Anna D. Shapiro, graduated from this school. I consider that to be a very good omen. And like I said, it feels right. How often does that happen really?

Beyond that, I've been going to shows constantly, escaping, spending money I don't have. Met some fantastic people. I'm planning to go see The Tempest at Steppenwolf sometime this week. Possibly tomorrow. I'm excited for that. And I'm still having a consummate love affair with Chicago. I can't believe I'll be leaving it in less than a month only to be stuck at home in Philadelphia for three. Fortunately, Philly is where my best friends are. But still...Chicago...

A weekend of theatre

Cynthia Nixon and Josh Stamberg, in Distracted.

I'm "home" in Philadelphia for spring break. Philadelphia means nothing to me. Its close proximity to New York City does. Thus, I spent the entire weekend there seeing shows. Three shows in two days.

First up was Roundabout's Distracted at the Laura Pels, starring Cynthia Nixon. I love the Laura Pels Theatre. So many good times there, seeing the great Blythe Danner in Suddenly Last Summer (twice!), and The Marriage of Bette and Boo last summer. I wasn't sure what to think of Distracted, because I had intentionally not checked out any reviews. I was stunned by it. It was fabulous. The set...cannot be described without pictures. I've never seen anything like it. Unbelievably high tech, and way too cool. Cynthia Nixon, as expected, was wonderful - and very unlike anything I'd seen her in. The entire cast was great, and the play was both thoughtful and funny. I highly recommend it.

Saturday night was 33 Variations, starring Jane Fonda, Colin Hanks, and Samantha Mathis. Well. I don't think I need to tell you about the brilliance that is Jane Fonda. That goes without saying. She was outstanding, as were Colin Hanks and Samantha Mathis. The set and the direction of the play - fantastic. Almost awe-inspiring. The play itself, I thought, was lacking however. I found my attention veering off now and then, which is rare for me in the theatre, and it seemed almost contrived in its attempt to align the life of Jane Fonda's character with Beethoven himself. The writing just seemed...lazy to me, reliant on conventions. That said, that's no excuse to miss this play. You don't miss Jane Fonda. You just don't.

Sunday, we took in a matinee of Exit the King, which officially opens later this week. The show starred Oscar winners Geoffrey Rush and Susan Sarandon (both of whom I have adored for years and years), as well as Lauren Ambrose (from one of my favorite shows, Six Feet Under) and the always hilarious Andrea Martin. With a cast like this, I was convinced the show couldn't fail. But the play is just one giant question mark. From beginning to end, you have absolutely no idea what's going on, or what the point is. It's an absolute farce, but there's no substance there. And the ending, while somewhat riveting (thanks to the nuanced acting of the play's two formidable leads), comes out of left field and is altogether baffling. I admire the effort - and the performances are all absolutely winning (I had no idea Lauren Ambrose had a flair for the melodramatic and nonsensical - she's fantastic) - but the play itself, unless I missed something somewhere along the way, is rather pointless.

I have been obscenely blessed by the theatre gods the last couple weeks, and I have to be thankful for that. But I do have to say that the shows I've seen in Chicago recently really do eclipse what I've seen in New York of late. I wonder what that says. As I noted to my mother this weekend, I wish Broadway was in Chicago and Chicago was in California. Then life would truly be perfect.

My Sophie's Choice

On Wednesday afternoon, I took a surprisingly interesting walk. Lately, I've been taking walks either down State St. or Dearborn towards the canal, despite freezing cold that defies imagination, to clear my head. On this particular afternoon, I was on State, about three or four blocks from my apartment and I was stopped by a representative from Environment Illinois. I hadn't really been paying attention, I had my iPod on - probably listening to some embarrassing '80s tripe as I tend to do while walking - and stopped without thinking. When she told me which organization she was from, we had a nice, long talk about their goals and strategies. She was really and truly surprised that I didn't walk away, and moreso that I was willing to have a serious and engaging conversation about the issues - and that I was comparatively well-educated on them. And I couldn't help but think how sad it was that she had to be surprised about something like this. It says some terrible things about our nation.

In any case, the problem with this is that they want money. Not that I fault them for this - money really is the only thing that actually gets things done - but if you're haunting streets in the South Loop of Chicago hoping for financial supporters, you're in the wrong place. You're only going to hit college student after college student and we are dirt poor. It bummed me out quite a bit, because I wanted so badly to help, but I just can't afford $15 a month. I can't say that it's, to quote the old cliche, hard to find good help these days, but rather hard to help period these days.

After our somewhat lengthy encounter, I ran into Kristen Wiig from Saturday Night Live. So. It was a helluva walk. Anyhow, I got back to my apartment about an hour later and I started to feel guilty. Granted, I have had a lot on my mind this week - far more than I'm used to ever having - but the guilt was still there. I thought, "Well, I can spend money I don't have on a seemingly bottomless pit of theatre tickets but I can't afford $15 a month for the environment? Really, Self?"

So then I started to wonder: what's more important? My rabid, almost chemical need to see every single play that comes through Chicago, or...saving the planet? An age-old question, I'm sure. The answer should be pretty clear and, I guess, it is. I'm just ignoring it.

...In other news, I'm seeing Our Town at Lookingglass on Friday! Actually, I'm ushering for it, which in some ways is even better. You don't get the relaxing, recreational theatre experience, but you get to be a part of it, and see the show for free! And usually all of the volunteer ushers at Lookingglass are upwards of sixty and those kids are the best. I'm rambling now. Ta.

I want your soul.

It's true, I have been lazy of late. I had a real bummer of a week, for no real reason. I think I just had a case of the "mean reds," as Holly Golightly would say. But I think I'm done wallowing now. I'm ready to come out of my Bat Cave, and I wish that was a metaphor. But I really have a Bat Cave in my room. Instead of having a bed underneath my bunk bed, I have a dresser topped with endless dvds and a pink chair...and Batman sheets draped over the back. Yep. Bat Cave. That was obviously something you needed to know about me.

Anyway. Tuesday night, I went to go see The Seafarer at Steppenwolf. Finally. I went by myself, which is something I've never done, and it was surprisingly nice. I am ashamed to admit that I hadn't gotten over to Steppenwolf since August, so it was nice and nostalgic. I ate at the same restaurant down the block I ate at that, and passed the spot where I saw Kathy Baker after the show back in August, at which time it was all I could do not to "JILL BROCK!" her. And the people who work at Steppenwolf are supremely sweet. I had some enlightened conversations with those working the box office and some ushers. I just adore theatre people, and the whole atmosphere really. There's no better feeling in the world.

The show itself was phenomenal, and I had surprisingly perfect seats considering I got student rush tickets. But that's the nice thing about Steppenwolf's downstairs theatre - there really isn't a bad seat in the house. John Mahoney, from Frasier, was in the show, to the sheer delight of my Frasier-worshipping friends, Haynes. He was fantastic, as was everyone in it, especially the actor who played Mr. Lockhart, who I immediately recognized as Ben's lawyer from LOST, which may or may not be to my credit.

The first act is admittedly slow, and has you wondering where this is all going because it seems rather aimless. But by the end of the first act, I was literally on the edge of my seat and when the theatre goes black it's a bit of a shock to the system. The second act is brilliant and intense and staggering. I believe there were several instances when I forgot to breathe. I highly recommend it.

We're watching It Happened One Night in class tonight. Oh, Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert, how I adore you both.

Zip!

I'm back in Chicago now, back to a dreaded 8:30 am class on Mondays, and back to roommates. But Saturday night, I was in New York. Funny, to think in the last three days, I've gone from Philadelphia to New York back to Philadelphia and finally to Chicago.

I spent all of six hours in New York, after taking the train up with my friend Leslie to see a show. Which, of course, is typical. Aside from the theatre scene, New York means very little to me. The show we saw was Pal Joey, currently doing a limited run at Studio 54.

My thoughts on the show are quite mixed, though more on the favorable side. Both Martha Plimpton and Stockard Channing were fantastic, despite not being known for their musical talent, and Matt Risch, the newcomer who played Joey, was fine. Now, I adore Rodgers and Hart, and of course the music was absolutely sublime - but I think the problem was more with the libretto. Much of the time, the story felt incongruous with the music, as if the music had to reach in order to seem even vaguely in context with the content of the scene. Like one of those jukebox musicals - i.e. Mamma Mia! and Crazy for You. This detracted a lot from my enjoyment of the show, but not fortunately not entirely.

I would recommend seeing it, for the performances of Martha Plimpton and Stockard Channing, and for the experience of seeing the inside of the legendary Studio 54, which truly is a sight to be seen. But the music is the heart of Pal Joey, so if you can't see it, it's no extraordinary loss. Just run out and buy the wonderful 1995 recording starring Patti LuPone, Peter Gallagher, and Bebe Neuwirth.

The next shows are my list are, hopefully, The Seafarer at Steppenwolf, the Chicago leg of the Spamalot tour with Richard Chamberlain, and Our Town at Lookingglass. And over spring break, the epic-ness that is Jane Fonda on Broadway in 33 Variations followed by Susan Sarandon and Geoffrey Rush in Exit the King. Should be a good season.

It's a joke nobody knows

My head is full. Sometimes I feel that if I think anymore, I'll explode. But then of course, I can't afford not to think. I've been thinking about politics, award season, theatre, recycling, religious abstention, my imminent return to Chicago on Sunday, and of course, the ever-childish feeling of being left out.

Last year, I went to school in Washington, D.C. before transferring to school in Chicago this year. Some of my closest friends are, predictably, still there. And thanks to the strange and addictive networking tool that is Facebook, I've been bombarded with endless tales of their Inauguration adventures. It's hard to be happy for them when you're standing just outside the circle. I'd like to stop being human, just for a moment, and be able to jump for joy with them, but I can't.

I've been thinking about the new administration and the faith I have in them. The game is on now. I've been thinking about the film industry and its annual tradition of shameless self-congratulation. It's amazing how I managed to get so wrapped up in it. I'm thinking about the integrity of the struggling theatre scene, the show I'll be seeing in New York this weekend, and the shows I'm planning to see in Chicago as soon as I return. And I've been thinking about how much I can't afford it, and how little I care. [Incidentally, I've also been thinking that more people need to come to Chicago because it's incredible. And there's my obligatory Chi-town plug.]

I go to a pretty eco-friendly school, but I've been thinking about ways I can enhance that. I hate being just one person. Then again, that's all it takes. I've been re-reading The God Delusion for the third time, and thinking about minorities and being one. I've been thinking about school, and whether I could be successful in my chosen field without it.

And most importantly, I've been thinking that LOST will finally be on in three hours, and I can escape for a little while. Oh, entertainment. How I rely on you so unreasonably.

A Slump Grows on Broadway

In the course of journeying through the internet - which I am in the habit of doing, something tells me you are too - it occurs to me that The Hip Thing to blog about right now is the economy.

I could dip my foot into this esoteric pond of bitching and moaning - not to be confused with the proactive pond of doing - but then the terrorists win. But since they are persuasive terrorists, I'll meet them halfway. (Possibly someone from Homeland Security will stumble upon this and I'll be on my way to Guantanamo within the hour.)

Let's talk theatre. I'm an admitted theatre junkie. Philadelphia is my homeland, though I live primarily in Chicago these days, and New York is that one and a half train hour ride I take only when there are shows to be seen. I've never been to the Statue of Liberty, I have little interest in Central Park, and the Empire State Building is just that skyscraper I catch a glimpse of on my way from 42nd Street to Penn Station. Some might say I have a bias.

However. I often hear people complaining about the high price of theatre tickets these days - "astronomical!" they say, "sky high." Maybe. But these are live shows we're talking about, comrades. This isn't like going to the movies. Do you have an idea what it costs to put on a production eight times a week? Actors, crew, ushers. And these people are not rich, let me tell you. You do not do theatre for the money, you do it purely for love.

On January 4th, nine Broadway shows closed for good. Nine. In the coming weeks, quite a few more shows will go dark. Why? Because the first casualty of an economic crisis is entertainment.

Well. I hope you'll all be satisfied with your joyless existences, listening to the radio for entertainment like your forefathers did while you watch Broadway come crashing to its knees. But seriously, folks? Once you've taken care of the rent, groceries, and your electric bill - buy theatre tickets. Think of it as supporting a good cause.

At the very least, the experience will last you a lot longer than Pay-Per-View wrestling or porn.