Theatre Droppings: Big Brother and Wee Thomas

I freely confess that I have never been a fan of Orwell's futuristic novel 1984, having been forced to read it in high school. I'm not a fan of anything I was forced to do in high school. Actually, all I remember were those omnipresent television screens, in every corner of every room. I did a lot of things in high school I didn't want anybody else watching, so the idea of those screens gave me the creeps. Ironic, considering nowadays, we spend so many hours of our day peering into screens...

I caught the Catalyst Theatre revival of their adaptation of Orwell's novel, and I still find those screens creepy. Kudos to director Jim Petosa for that, because the screens are never even seen onstage. But when the booming voice of James Konicek interrupts the action onstage with the latest propaganda, and the actors look out into the audience to view the telescreens, we see them too. In fact, the sound design of this production is really the starring character, taking nothing away from the strong work being done by the actors.

It took about 25 more years, but Orwell's vision of Big Brother always watching us via technology has actually come to pass, with much of our everyday lives now under surveillance. So I suppose Orwell is to be commended for his insight. But I confess that I always preferred his examination of communism, Animal Farm:

All animals are created equal.

Some animals are more equal than others.

A couple of weeks after I saw 1984, I popped over to Signature to see their regional premiere of The Lieutenant of Inishmore. This might be the most hilarious show currently onstage in DC, as well as the ickiest. You've never seen so much blood, so many corpses, so many...um...unaesthesticized amputations. Lots of feline fur is flying, too, as the catalyst for this sly examination of terrorism's ruthless inefficiency is a decapitated cat named Wee Thomas. Oh, my goodness. Director Jeremy Skidmore, who in the past occasionally appeared onstage (I played with him in Thief River many moons ago) has really come into his own as a director of substance. I've already written about his Ambition Facing West last season. Here, he is able to wring every laugh out of this gruesome tale, and somehow make every despicable character in the play likeable.

...or at least understandable.

Jeremy cast his show extremely well, beginning with the terrorist at the center of the action, played by Karl Miller. I've been a fan of Miller's since I first saw him sweep down the loading platform at the Clark Street Playhouse in The Maids. In full drag, he completely mesmerized the audience with a ten minute monologue in French. He's matured since then, and is a steely but appealing leading man. He has his hands full in his first appearance in the play, as his partner in the scene is hanging upside down by his ankles, with blood dripping from his feet, and torture devices clamped to his nipples. Talk about upstaging! It wasn't until this poor sod was finally released and up-righted that I saw it was Jason Stiles, who surely is playing the most physically challenging role of anybody's career. Really, while hanging upside down for 10-15 minutes, Jason still hit every character nuance, every moment in the scene. He even got laughs.

Everybody in the show is outstanding, including a real find, Michael McGloin, as the long-haired local boyo sucked into a nightmare. I have not seen McGloin's work before, though his bio reveals substantial local credits. He's one to watch.

Other than McGloin, I had seen all the other performers in other projects except Casie Platt, the lone actress in the cast. Or at least, I thought I'd never seen her before. I never read cast bios until after the performance, so I was sure she was another newbie to me. Not so; I actually saw her in a tricky little play at Catalyst a while back, portraying a mixed-up kid with a fetish for pyrotechnics, called The House is Falling Down, Call Justin Timberlake. OK, that wasn't the actual title, but it was along those lines. Anyway, I absolutely love it when I think someone is brand new to me, and I discover I enjoyed the actor in a previous endeavor, but did not recognize it.

That's a good actor. And this show is full of 'em.

I see England, I see France...

Olney Theatre's current production of Steve Martin's "The Underpants," which I have not seen, received a fairly weak review in today's Washington Post. It caught my eye because, on page one of the Post's style section, letting readers know what's inside, there is a picture, not of Olney's current production, but a picture of the Washington Stage Guild's hit production of the same play from 2003.

I got a giggle out of the mistake, then started to feel a bit bad for the three actors who appeared in that picture from 2003. I hope they don't get any blame for what appears to be a pretty lackluster production.

It reminds me of some trouble I had when I lived in Los Angeles. There was another actor there with my name, though he did not carry my first initial; I'm the only one pompous enough to do that. This other Scott Williams received one of my residual checks once (I never did get that 50 bucks! Thanks, SAG), and another time, I turned to the Arts section of the LA Times and, there on the front page, was a review so scathing it singed my eyebrows. I don't remember the play, it was an original, but the critic cut the production no slack. The worst thing in this debacle, the critic railed, was Scott Williams.

All this on the front page of the Arts section of the LA Times.

The review was continued on page six, which, thankfully, contained a production shot of Scott Williams. He was a 300 pound black man.

I could only hope that everyone who knew me took the time to read the whole article, which exonerated me. You see, I'm the whitest guy ever.

That's not the only other Scott Williams I have run across. I ran into another one while I was in grad school. He was a drag queen in Columbia, SC, and the talent portion of his contests were quite unique. While the other gentlemen all come out and did that annoying lip-sync thing to the latest Madonna tune, this guy, dressed to the nines in sequins, high heels, and huge hair, came out onstage, sat down, and played the violin.

He always won.

Come to think of it, that kid was black, too. I'm beginning to detect a pattern here...

I seem to have wandered off-course a bit. As I said, I have not seen the Olney production of "The Underpants," but I did see the Stage Guild production back in 2003. I loved it. So, to Nigel Reed, Michael Glenn, and Chris Davenport (at right), the three gents who are getting partial blame for the Olney show without actually being in it, let me ease your minds.

Back in 2003, your Underpants gave me great enjoyment.

Lucky 13

After 13 hours of deliberations, exactly 13 years (to the day) after his acquittal: conviction.

Who's Who?

The above video has been making the rounds of late, and I’m posting it here, but not for the reason you might think. In it, a lot of famous folks urge people to register to vote. Everybody I know has been aware of electoral procedures for many moons, and are either avid voters, occasional voters, or complete slackers (you know who you are). But none of those people will be persuaded by a video to suddenly become a better citizen and start voting.

I imagine this video is aimed at younger people who have never been inspired to vote.

The reason, then, that I’m posting this item is: it contains a dozen or more celebrities in short, fun snippets. But here is the disheartening part.

I only know about two-thirds of them.

I am deeply disappointed at my lack of knowledge regarding pop culture and its inhabitants.

So, even though I know this video will not change anyone’s mind about registering to vote (you know who you are), check it out anyway, and see if you can identify who the hell everybody is...

Oh, and by the way, if you live in California, and you fail to vote no on Prop 8, you have no one but yourself to blame when the right-wingers win, and the right to marry is forbidden to all in your tribe.

Mr Clean

1916-2008

House Peters, Jr., the first actor to portray Mr. Clean in live-action commercials, has gone to that great laundry room in the sky.

Go here to see an actual commercial from 1958, though in this spot, Mr Clean is animated.

But even in cartoon form, the suspicion remains. Check out his body language: folded arms, hands on hips, the great swooping hands. With his bald head, muscles bulging, pierced earring, and earnest desire to clean everything in sight, do we need to state the obvious?

Mr. Clean gets rid of dirt and grime and grease in just a minute.
Mr. Clean can clean your whole house and everything that’s in it.
Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean!

Blithe Spirit

This seems a good idea, but I'm not so sure.






I applaud any project which brings the great Christine Ebersole to the stage. I'm sure she'll be fantastic in this revival of Noel Coward's Blithe Spirit. But I am a bit worried about her supporting cast. Broadway.com is floating the rumor that the great Angela Lansbury is being sought to play Madame Arcati, the medium who inadvertently summons the ghost which Ebersole will play.










The last Broadway incarnation of the show was in 1987, in a production starring Richard Chamberlain, Judith Ivey, Blythe Danner, and the great Geraldine Page as Madame Arcati. I'm Miss Page's biggest fan, and have previously mentioned seeing her live on Broadway in Absurd Person Singular. Here's a pic of the stars of that ill-fated Blithe Spirit revival back in '87:




I wonder what it is about the role of Charles, which attracts homosexual actors? Richard Chamberlain, as noted, played it in the '87 revival, Coward himself played it on TV in the 50's (opposite Lauren Bacall!) and Rupert Everett has been mentioned for the upcoming production. I've been an Everett fan since he was first introduced to American audiences, playing the gay snot who grows up to be a Soviet spy, in Another Country. I made a point of buying tickets to see his LA stage debut way back when; he was starring in a radical reexamination of Noel Coward's first, and least remembered, hit play, The Vortex, a play about heroin, hedonism, and oedipal complexes. What a riot! Rupert was riveting.

Back to Blithe Spirit, Coward's biggest hit. I'm a bit concerned about Lansbury's possible involvement in this planned revival. I'm sure she would be a delight in the role of Madame Arcati, but suppose history repeats itself?

Back in '87, in a classic case of "good news / bad news," Geraldine Page received the revival's only Tony nomination. She lost the award, and six days later, only a few hours before a matinee performance, she dropped dead.

Romeo and Juliet get Punk'd

Last week, I attended the all stag production of Romeo and Juliet at The Shakespeare Theatre Company. Because I am a firm believer in equality among the sexes, yesterday I popped into Taffety Punk's subversively cast production of the same play (their version is all female). I thought that comparisons between the two, though odious, would be inevitable, but I was wrong. The Punk production does not invite much comparison to their big-budget brother across town. This all-female version is much more reminiscent of the four character re-imagining of the play which ran at the Folger years ago, Shakespeare's R & J. That adaptation by Joe Calarco has since been making the rounds all over the country, as an alternative to traditional productions of the classic. In it, four prep school boys enact the play, portraying all the characters. The Taffety Punk production strongly reminded me of that production.

The set here suggests a simple jungle gym, complete with chain swing, similar to one which can be seen on any school playground. When the ladies make their entrance in the first crowd scene ("do you bite your thumb at me?"), it's unavoidably apparent that these are girls playing the roles. These initial scenes, indeed all the scenes, were clearly inhabited by women pretending to be men, a situation which might logically arise in an all-girl school. That impression was reinforced for me by the fact that all the actresses in the show seem oh so young.

When I claimed that comparisons are odious, I was telling the truth. That has never stopped me from making them. I'm happy to report that this week, I saw two of the strongest Romeos I've encountered. I already mentioned the wonderfully named Finn Wittrock, playing the role at The Shakes, and now I have to say that Rahaleh Nassri, playing for the girls' team, is every bit as effective. Among a group of ladies who know their stuff, she was the standout, and was the one who made me forget I was watching a woman. I'm pretty surprised to have so thoroughly enjoyed both Romeos, as the role is usually the one that makes me roll the eyes a bit. Most productions portray our hero as a bit of a wimp. Grow a pair already! No need with these versions. Both Wittrock and Nassri already have a pair.

Oh, here's a fun fact I learned last night after seeing the show. The actors playing the role of Mercutio at the different theatres are roommates. Go here to listen to a short interview with the dueling Shakespeares on WAMU. During rehearsals, that place must have been a Mab house.

(sorry)

On the local Rialto, there was some legitimate grumbling among actresses regarding the Shakes' announcement that their season opener would be all-male. Who could blame them? Women get short shrift in classical theatre, and Shakespeare is the worst offender, providing only two or three female roles in most of his tragedies.

So let's do some math. By casting men in the women's roles in R & J, The Shakes robbed four women of jobs. Taffety Punk, by casting women in the male roles, robbed over a dozen men of jobs. But I'm not bitter (much), they deserve to play a bit of catch-up.

But here's an irony: though minor, the role of Lady Montague has a couple of lines in the first scene, and appears without lines in another. The Shakespeare Theatre fleshed those out a bit, handing her more to do throughout the play, and actor Jeffrey Kuhn played the additional moments nicely.

Taffety, the company which set out to give more opportunities for actresses in the play, cut the character completely.

I confess that decision, though odd, may reinforce the very positive reaction I had to the work of Lise Bruneau, who directed the Taffety production. The direction, in fact, was for me the strongest aspect of the show. Bruneau, operating with a minimal budget I'm sure, may have made the decision to dispense with Romeo's mother due to casting restraints; most in her ensemble are already playing multiple roles.

One of their regular actors, however, is not. I wish the Punks might have given another role to one of their own. I have no doubt Paper Bag would have been a terrific Lady Montague.