I Write Lots of Things

Here are two posts I wrote for other sites:

The first is "My Cherrywood Nights or David Cromer Stole My Childhood," a short essay on my experiences in the cast of Cherrywood that I wrote for Eric Roach and Anderson Lawfer's very funny "Cherrywatch" blog.
I've also got a new review up, of Bruised Orange Theatre's Daddy Long Legs. It's a one act noirish comic thriller performed at the on the lakefront in Rogers Park. It doesn't always work (the ending falls flat) but there's a lot of fun to be had in sitting on the beach and watching the proceedings.

Here's the Cherrywood piece:

Many of you, reading the various articles about Cherrywood (some of which are even based on fact, and interviews which actually took place) might have gotten the impression that David Cromer’s production is the Chicago premiere of Kirk Lynn’s 2004 Austin-set mindfuck. But it is not so. Shade Murray directed it as his first year directing project while getting his MFA at Northwestern. This is the production that Cromer saw, which got him interested in the script in the first place. Cromer then worked on it in a student production at Act One Studios, and now here it is at Mary-Arrchie, the Greatest Chicago Theatre Event In History.

But who remembers the previous productions? I do. I was in Shade Murray’s Cherrywood (and who hasn’t wanted to get in Shade Murray’s Cherrywood?), and I can tell the tale. Cromer used my experiences, from when I was a tender lad of 21, to create his play, and I feel used. And sort of exhilarated.


Shade chose twelve of the best and brightest—or at least twelve of the hardest to embarrass and least likely to ask “what’s the point of this?”—to be his intrepid cast. We viewpointed, we created unscripted moments, we did sun salutations, we didn’t know how the show was ending until about three nights before we opened. It was a little bit of a cult.


We had no budget for tech and no stage manager, so there were no light cues, the set was mostly made of cardboard boxes, the costumes were pulled from storage, and the sound cues came from Shade running his iPod from the booth, with speakers sitting on the back of the stage.


And it was pretty awesome. Yes, twelve people doesn’t make a realistic party, and yes, the script can get a little bogged down and/or weird. But I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same kind of ownership over a play again. We built that damn show with our bare hands. We had three performances in a hundred-some seat theatre and were done. (And it was the last show I did before my graduation the next month.)


But then Cromer saw it, and suddenly we weren’t so special any more. He just had to do it with a greater degree of difficulty: four times the cast size, an actual set, a reconfigured theatre, critics, and on and on. And of course he’s David Cromer, so he’s watched like a hawk by everyone, and doing something like this…well, that’s newsworthy.


So I’m torn between being happy that more people will get to know this show and being jealous that Cromer’s version has gotten way more attention. I’m no longer special for having in Cherrywood—in fact, theatre people in Chicago who haven’t are harder to find these days. And doubtless Cromer took some stuff from our production, or made some changes that feel wrong, or generally messed with my memories of the show. Things will doubtless drive my crazy about the production.

But fuck it. I’m still going.

And here's the review of Daddy Long Legs:

As far as set designs go, it's hard to compete with Lake Michigan. Daddy Long Legs sets up a few rows of chairs on Leone Beach in Rogers Park, overlooking the water, and unfolds a tasty little gangster story for 50 minutes. The setting sometimes bolsters the story and sometimes distracts, but even when interest flags, it's easy to enjoy an early-evening hour on the beach.


For those with a taste for noirish tales, the show's a lot of fun. It's 1929, shortly after the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. Bobby Widdle (Clint Sheffer, who also wrote the play) is meeting Mars Streznick (John Arthur Lewis) on the beach. Streznick arrives hauling a burlap sack filled with body parts — the remains of a hit. Bobby wants to find his wife, and Mars seems to know where she is. But he's not saying much, trying to convince Bobby to leave town while he can.


Sheffer does a good job teasing the audience with each morsel of information, keeping us hooked into the twisty plot. The script balances funny and suspenseful moments, while offering up some delightfully stylized dialogue and razor-sharp wordplay. He and Lewis each create compelling portraits of the feckless hoods: They are tough and dangerous, with something to hide, but aren't quite as smart or hard boiled as they think they are. Both are greatly helped by Anne Sonneville's costumes and Wes Clark's fight choreography. Unfortunately, the last 10 minutes, when the answers are revealed, manage to be both predictable and confusing. It's a disappointing end to an otherwise fun show.


And then there's the setting. The panorama is huge, and we could see everything from bright skies to dark clouds spewing lightning was visible at once. It was gorgeous and dramatic — and at its best moments, so was the play.

Lots of Writing

So I've been a bit quiet on the blog recently, in part because a lot of my time has been going to acting in The Face of a Ruined Woman (See the new play by Mia McCullough! Two performances left, 6/27 at 7:30 PM and 7/3 at 2 PM! Call 773-883-8830 for tickets!), but partially because I've been doing a lot of outside writing. And now it's starting to get published, though one more review is still to come.

So first, and most exciting: I interviewed David Cromer about Cherrywood for the AV Club Chicago. You can read the interview here. Cromer's a fascinating man (though it proved rather difficult to track him down to talk), and I wish I'd gotten more time to speak with him. On the other hand, I had to cut at least 2/3 of our 20 minute conversation to get within the word count, so maybe it's for the best we spoke so briefly. Either way, I'm really proud of the piece. I wish it had gotten a response on the site, but hey, it's not too late to comment. Now I need to get my Cherrywood tickets...

By the way, if there's interest, I can share some interview outtakes.

Additionally, I've got two reviews up. (A third, for Lookingglass Alice is on the way.) These were shows I saw last Saturday and Sunday evenings:

First up was The Tallest Man at The Artistic Home. It was never boring, and there's real talent, but I found the extreme shifts in tone and focus to be extreme problems. I was confounded more than anything else. There's real talent involved, though, so I hope the next show works out better. Here's the text:

Jim Lynch, playwright of The Tallest Man, has a lot of stories to tell. Unfortunately, his new play tells all of them at once.


There’s "drunken Irishman" humor, warm-hearted satire, political commentary, bruising dysfunctional-family drama, deeply felt anguish, and a ghost story. And that’s all before the truly baffling deus ex machina ending. Sections work — some quite well — but overall, it is a confounding experience.


The play takes place in Tourmakeady, a small town in Ireland's County Mayo, in 1895. There are many challenges: Finbar (Shane Kenyon) wants to marry Katie (Marta Evans), but her mother (Miranda Zola) refuses because he is a tinker (an itinerant racial and social minority). Finbar and his cousin Frankie (Nick Horst), who is new to town and still mourning his parents, are trying to safeguard the home of Finbar’s mother (Darrelyn Marx). Everyone is trying to avoid the attention of Thaddeus Newcombe (Eamonn McDonagh), the new representative of the town's English overlord. Well, except for Tommy Joe (Frank Nall) and Johnny (Bill Boehler), who just care that the whiskey keeps flowing.


The problem is not that there are a lot of stories, it's that they all work at cross-purposes. When a plot twist out of an old melodrama butts up against an grief-stricken description of a father’s death, followed shortly by relatives exchanging blows like something out of Martin McDonagh, none of it has impact. Lynch has a real way with dialogue, and there are some appealing performances, notably Horst and Nall.


The designs, particularly Ellen Siedel's costumes, are attractive and effective (though the uncredited fight choreography is remarkably unconvincing). The show is rarely dull, but when every scene seems to have a new tone and narrative focus, it's nearly impossible to make sense of the experience, much less be emotionally involved.

The next night was Sweet and Hot: The Songs of Harold Arlen. I'm a huge fan of Arlen's music, so it was great to hear these songs live. He really was in a class by himself, both musically and emotionally, but so many of his songs are unfamiliar. (Also, a lot of people don't realize he wrote all of the songs he wrote--he doesn't have the same name recognition as Gershwin, Rodgers, or Porter.) Hearing them sung live and unamplified, up close, was enough to make this show fantastic for me. It had definite issues, outlined below, and it never really worked as theatre (attempts to give people characters and relationships just fell flat), but the songs are just so great, and sung so well, that I'm still very glad I went. However, please note: the dinner is $20, and, while good, is not worth it. I'd recommend getting dinner elsewhere first. And as I learned, it is not included for critics. Whoops. But otherwise, by all means go. Here's the text:

There are two kinds of people: those who already love Harold Arlen’s songs, and those who will when they hear them. Arlen incorporated the harmonies and emotions of the blues into the popular and stage music of the 1930s to the '50s to create musically gorgeous and emotionally vibrant songs. He's best known for "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," but his catalog is full of gems, famous and obscure. Theo Ubique's revue, conceived by Julianne Boyd, gives us three dozen, and it's a thrill to hear each glorious tune. The production has some flaws, but when it focuses on the songs, it's transporting.


The No Exit Cafe is an odd little cabaret space, best suited to the intimate solos and duets. Nearly every production number attempted by director Fred Anzevino and choreographer David Heimann falls flat. This is a shame, but it's still an ideal space to get close to a performer and really hear the song. (The entire show is blissfully unamplified.)


The cast's three women dominate the show. Stephanie Herman is the ideal ingenue, by turns effervescent and vulnerable, with a crystalline voice. Sarah Hayes is completely honest at every moment, enlivening both comic songs and ballads. And Bethany Thomas continues to prove herself a local treasure with her huge voice and magnetic presence: When she sings "Stormy Weather" and "The Man That Got Away," they stay sung. The men don't fare as well: While Eric Lindahl is utterly lovable (and vocally gorgeous), Eric Martin doesn't get much chance to distinguish himself and Kristofer Simmons' breathy voice and peculiar interpretations simply don't fit with the rest of the show.


But in the end, it's about the songs. And they are stunning. The show does right by them far more often than not, so it's more than worthwhile for Harold Arlen fans, current and soon to be.

Cherrywood. Is. COMING.

David Cromer, whose career has been on a meteoric ascent recently (Our Town is into its second year Off-Broadway, he has two shows scheduled on Broadway next season, and his production of A Streetcar Named Desire is getting raves and selling out at Writers') has not forgotten where he came from. And that would be tiny storefront theatres, like Mary-Arrchie, which has been producing for 25 years and performs above a liquor store in Lakeview.

The play they're doing is Cherrywood, a remarkable piece by Kirk Lynn, which premiered at the Rude Mechanicals in Austin, in 2004. It's written as a series of lines, with no characters listed at all. The cast and director decide who says what and the story they tell. It takes place at a party, where people who feel their lives aren't what they want gather to drink, dance, and fall in love. Except there are jello shots, a gun goes off, and people are turning into werewolves. It's pretty wild, and exactly the kind of thing that thrives in awesome Chicago storefronts.

On an interesting side note, I have a history with this show: I actually appeared in the first Chicago production, which was Shade Murray's first-year MFA project at Northwestern. I was playing a character of surpassing social awkwardness and poor fashion sense: I grew out a full, bushy beard, wore ugly, scotch-taped glasses, a too-small polo shirt tucked into too-baggy pleated courduroy pants, in clashing shades of beige, and sandals with socks. There are some awsome blackmail photos of me out there.

The show runs June 24-August 8, and Mary-Arrchie just announced the cast. Of 49 people.

Seriously, 49 actors. How will anything else in town run? I'm not sure how many seats the theatre has, but if there are more than 50, it's not by much. And while the stage is very deep, it's certainly not huge. Not to mention the storytelling difficulty--wrangling 49 people and creating an arc for all of them, not to mention telling the story coherently, is going to be a monumental task. I trust they are up to the task, and am crazy excited to see what the result is.

For those who didn't follow the Time Out link, by the way, here's the cast list:

Adam Hinkle, Aileen May, Alexander Ring, Alice Wedoff, Allison Cain, Andre LaSalle, Andrew Hanback, Anthony Demarco, Brian Hinkle, Briana De Giulio, Bries Vannon, Candice Gregg, Carlo Lorenzo Garcia, Caroline Neff, Chris Ward Blumer, Colleen Miller, Craig Cunningham, D’wayne Taylor, Dereck Garner, Derek Brummet, Ebony Wimbs, Eileen Montelione, Elliot Ivins, Gavin Robinson, Geoff Button, Jennifer Santanello, Jeremy Noll, Joseph DeBettencourt, Kasia Januszewski, Katherine Schwartz, Keely Brennan, Kevin V. Smith, Leslie Frame, Lindsey Barlag, Lindsey Pearlman, Marika Engelhardt, Michael Dice, Michele Gorman, Molly Reynolds, Nick Mikula, Noah Simon, Ramon Madrid, Raymond Shoemaker, Richard Cotovsky, Rob Fenton, Rudy Galvan, Ryan Bourque, Ryan Martin and Shannon Clausen.

Okay, here's one blackmail photo. Not the worst, at all.

Cromer Watch

So David Cromer's production of Neil Simon's Brighton Beach Memoirs opened last night at the Nederlander on Broadway. The Times gave it a mixed but respectful review, others are generally more positive, with the relationship between the two brothers and the set coming in for the the most praise. And all of the reviews focus specifically on how Cromer's direction impacted the play. Some variation on the same formula--that the original production was a comedy with dramatic moments, while the current one is a drama with comic parts--was repeated in nearly every review. Cromer's quieter style was mostly praised, though some thought it attempted to give the play a depth it couldn't support and the Times thought he managed the two-person scenes much better than the full-cast ones. (My favorite quote comes from NY1's Roma Torre, saying that Cromer "could probably locate the human qualities in a head of cabbage.")

So Cromer's career is booming--once Broadway Bound the third part of of Simon's autobiographical trilogy, opens in rep on Broadway, he'll be directing the American premiere of Australian playwright Andrew Bovell's When the Rain Stops Falling at Lincoln Center's Off-Broadway Mitzi E. Newhouse in February, followed by A Streetcar Named Desire at Writers' Theatre north of Chicago in the spring, and, amazingly, Kirk Lynn's Cherrywood at Mary-Arrchie, a tiny storefront in Lakeview above a liquor store. (By the way, I got to appear in Cherrywood at Northwestern, directed by the awesome Shade Murray as his first-year MFA project, and it's an amazing show. It's written as a series of lines without any attribution or dramatis personae, and it's up to the director and actors to figure out who says what and what the play is. I can't wait to see a different interpretation of it.) Then once fall 2010 rolls around, he'll be back on Broadway, in a just-announced revival of Picnic by William Inge, based on his production at Writers' last fall. (The producers of this revival are giving credit to Writers' for originating it, which is an improvement over the producers of Our Town, who as far as I know gave no credit or money to The Hypocrites, who put up the cash and resources for the Chicago production on which the current New York revival is based. That's showbiz.)

So talk about a local boy making good! From the sadly small amount of his work I've seen, Cromer is a hell of a director, and it's great to see him being recognized, particularly since he is continuing to direct in Chicago, not abandoning us for New York. (Or film? Who knows...) I hope he continues to do well in both cities.

One other interesting note--I think that this is a rare, heartening example of the power of critics to actually affect the theatrical discourse in a positive way. I'd say it was the raft of positive reviews for Cromer's Our Town in spring 2008 that first put him on the national radar, and Charles Isherwood's laudatory profile of him in the Times that really put him in the New York theatre consciousness. (Terry Teachout's rave about the Writers' production of Picnic doubtless is the reason that production is the next to make the move, but Teachout is a twit, so I'm reluctant to give him any credit.) It's all too rare, but critics served a part of their purpose--recognizing excellence and helping it to be seen on a wider scale. Hopefully Cromer will continue to produce at a level that justifies the hype he's gotten so far--and we'll be able to continue seeing the work.

Things I Have Yet To Comment On

I've been lax about writing, but a flurry of posts are coming in the next few days (hopefully). Here are a few things I have failed to mention recently:

The nominations for Chicago's Non-Equity Jeff Awards have been announced. You can see the full list of nominations here, but here are a few thoughts:

--Congratulations to Brian Plocharczyk, nominated for Lead Actor for his work in Stage Left's fall show, After Ashley. He was exceptional. I'm disappointed that The Day of Knowledge didn't get any nominations, but we knew that was coming when the committee failed to recommend us. Ah well, you can't please all of the people all of the time.

--David Cromer's hugely popular production of Our Town (which I never got to see) was nominated for Production and Director, but had no acting or design nominations. Given that the praise was spread pretty widely for that show, I find that pretty shocking. (Cromer now has a version of Our Town running Off-Broadway which opened to similarly rave reviews, and similarly sold-out houses, and just won the Lucille Lortel for Best Revival and Best Director.)

--An advance congratulations to Amanda Hartley of The Robber Bridegroom, the only nominee for Supporting Actress in a Musical. Work on that speech.

--Have The Hypocrites gone equity since Our Town? I'm shocked at no nominations for The Threepenny Opera, which was one of my favorites of last season.

--Congratulations to Joanie Schultz! She directed me in Saint Joan when I was an undergrad and she was getting her MFA at Northwestern, and her production of In Arabia We'd All Be Kings got nominations for Production, Director, Ensemble, Leading Actor, and Supporting Actress.

--I'm not sure what was going on in the "New Adaptation" category, but neither of the shows in that category that I saw were successful adaptations. The Picture of Dorian Gray at Lifeline was not terribly scary (though Supporting Actor nominee Paul S. Holmquist did do strong work) and generally confused. And Scoundrel Time at City Lit somehow managed to take all of the drama out of the story of Lillian Hellman and the blacklist--quite a feat, but not quite nomination-worthy.

--Overall, it reminded me of how much theatre I don't see. I don't think I made it to more than six or eight of the nominated shows. Need to get on that in the future.

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There has been shockingly little mention in the press of the death of Augusto Boal on Saturday. Boal was the legendary Brazilian director and educator who pioneered the "Theatre of the Oppressed," which used performance to engage people with their lives and political situations. Anybody who works in theatre education and creative drama has made use of his work, even if they haven't read his works. He  has left an exceptional legacy.

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The Tony nominations are tomorrow, and today the committee announced the special awards. The winners include composer Jerry Herman, who won a Lifetime Achievement Award, and Washington DC's Signature Theatre, which won the Outstanding Regional Theatre award. Full details on Playbill.

A Long Overdue Update

First off, I must apologize for the fact that it's been almost two weeks since I wrote here. No excuse is terribly good, but I guess that at least I can offer the turmoil of the election (Ohmygodwediditwedidit!) and some developments in my own life (Short version: things in my theatrical career are looking very promising. Things in my "job to pay the bills" career, rather dire. Anyone have leads for seasonal or long-term employment?) as a partial explanation.

But a wide variety of things have been happening in theatre, here and elsewhere, and I figured it was time to roll up my sleeves and comment away.

First off, I wanted to use this space to thank Deanna Boyd. She plays the title role in Bohemian Theatre Ensemble's Bernarda Alba which I reviewed here. Though my review was mixed, she still complimented me on my analysis--one with which she agreed in many points. She even called it the best-written review that the show had received. I appreciated this greatly, as it is rare for a critic to hear anything positive from an actor in a production--especially in response to a mixed review! Unfortunately, she did not include an email address--otherwise, I would have responded to her directly. Deanna, if you happen to be reading this and want me to respond, please get your email address to me, either on these comments or through my page at Centerstage. I'd love to discuss this more with you!

Did anyone see Charles Isherwood's profile of Chicago director David Cromer in yesterday's Sunday New York Times? I have not gotten the chance to see some of Cromer's productions--either his totally sold out Our Town or his Writers' Theatre Picnic--but I was a big fan of his current production of Itamar Moses' Celebrity Row at American Theatre Company. He certainly seems to have earned his reputation as a director always worth checking out. But did anyone notice the odd tone of this article? The main focus was on the question of why Cromer hasn't yet moved to New York. Why is it so difficult to imagine that someone might choose to live in Chicago? That they might find the New York lifestyle unappealing? Chicago is chosen as a home base by many nationally known directors--Frank Galati, Robert Falls, Mary Zimmerman, and Anna D. Shapiro, to name only a few--and many directors who may not have received national recognition but still produce reliably strong work--such as Jessica Thebus, Charles Newell, and Sean Graney. I'm sure other cities have their own world-class directors in residence. Perhaps it's simply snobbishness from someone used to assuming that he lives at the center of the cultural universe, but its still perplexing.

Last weekend I got to see Forbidden Broadway at the Royal George, just in advance of its closing the following day. At points, the show demonstrated why it is such a treasure, but I wish the entire show had lived up to the best moment. Numbers spoofing Jersey Boys, Mary Poppins and Young Frankenstein, Patti LuPone and Kristen Chenoweth, and of course the evergreen Les Mis and Lion King parodies had me almost crying from laughter. But the Little Mermaid parody was pretty lame. And where were the numbers about August: Osage County and Spring Awakening? It still has more laughs per moment than most shows, but I was left wanting more.

That's all for now, but I hope to be blogging a lot more frequently in the future! 

New Review: Celebrity Row

I have a review of Celebrity Row at American Theater Company up on Centerstage. It's great to finally see a play by Itamar Moses, whose scripts I've admired for a while. He better keep getting produced in town! Here's a tease:

Who'd guess that Theodore Kaczynski (Larry Neumann, Jr.) would get the best laughs? Four of U.S. history's most notorious criminals dominate the stage in Itamar Moses’s provocative new play "Celebrity Row," currently in its Chicago premiere at ATC. The play does not always live up to its best moments, but in David Cromer’s lucid production it possesses a vitality all too rare in contemporary theatre.