XL Weekend Reviews

'Urinetown,' Austin Symphony Orchestra, Bun B, Francesca Gabbiani, 'House' and 'Garden'

By Michael Barnes
AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF
Tuesday, January 24, 2006

The ancient admonition that art should "teach and please" has rarely found a more self-consciously pleasurable and instructive retort than "Urinetown." The lessons learned? That social and environmental concerns are difficult to balance, and that the commonwealth is not best held in private hands. The sugar coating? A musical that borrows liberally, mockingly and without shame from just about every Broadway tradition of the past 50 years.

The material also closely matches the talents and interests of Zachary Scott Theatre director Dave Steakley and his generous team of artists. This time, Steakley did not so much reinvent the show, which opened on Broadway in 2001 after a rapid ascent through New York's fringe scene, as respect its tune-clanging, tongue-wagging treats. He was helped immeasurably by newcomer Robin Lewis' choreography, which added unforeseen dimensions to the dances, as well as Michael Raiford's bladders-bulbs-and-barriers scenery and Jason Amato's urine-themed lighting.

We should set up the stringy, underdeveloped story: Severe drought (sound familiar?) has reduced water to so precious a commodity, it is rationed by a major corporation, which controls the public amenities with the help of greasy politicians (more familiar?) and the consent of the huddled masses (well, let's not exaggerate). Our hero, Bobby Strong, leads a rebellion of the heart, predicated on the seizure of the big boss's daughter, whom he also loves, Hope Cladwell.

The ensemble is without obvious flaws. As Bobby, David Sattler, another Austin newcomer, radiated integrity, capability and good looks (he even had a Jake Gyllenhaal-in-"Jarhead" thing going on). Tried-and-true Jill Blackwood, playing Hope, once again was cast a sweet young thing, but with killer asides and deadpans. She finally took her Amneris turn in "I See a River." Meredith McCall channeled Patti LuPone as the melodramatic urinal-keeper Penelope Pennywise, while Marc Pouhe exalted in every move as the corrupt Mr. Cladwell. Narration is crucial to this show; it's shared by Fosse-fied Jamie Goodwin as Officer Lockstock and Stephanie Elbel as Little Sally, who speaks the best line about this unhappy musical, "But the music is so happy!"

Unhappy — and important — the subject matter may be, but it's hard not to leave the theater singing aloud the proud title of this uncannily titled show.

("Urinetown" continues 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, 2:30 p.m. Sundays through March 12. $15-$40. 476-0541, www.zachscott.com.)

Symphonic music

GUEST VIOLINIST MAKES FOR SPECIAL CONCERT

Two weeks ago, we praised all that was great and good about the sound of Richard Buckley's "Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk," the opening volley in the yearlong, citywide Shostakovich 100 Festival. That shot was answered smartly Friday by Austin Symphony Orchestra conductor Peter Bay and, especially, guest performer Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg.

The most gifted and serious violinist of her generation, Salerno-Sonnenberg eschewed the eccentrics of her early career to blaze through Shostakovich's Violin Concert No. 1. The agonizingly slow, melancholy first movement was rationed out like drops of blood. The mysterious, extraordinarily difficult and quick second movement was performed with such ferociousness by the soloist, the audience could be forgiven for its intermovement burst of applause. Salerno-Sonnenberg squeezed every bit of musical emotion out of the cadenza, while the orchestra matched her note for note from opening to close. She last played with this orchestra in 1997 — for Bay's audition performance. Please don't let her wait another nine years to return.

We needed no better argument for why Austin needs more and ever more of this Russian composer than this one concerto.

Before Salerno-Sonnenberg appeared, the orchestra zipped through Shostakovich's juvenile Scherzo in F sharp. We usually don't publish a work's opus number, which indicates as closely as possible the publication sequence of a composer's work. In this case, the mixture of trilling folkiness and formal gloss marked it clearly as Shostakovich's Opus 1.

Sibelius' Symphony No. 1, which occupied the second half of the program, merits closer examination. Structurally unstable, thematically engorged, it calls to some listeners' minds a Finnish winter storm. If so, some phrases dissolved into snow blindness. As melodies were handed from section to section, the scrupulous attention to detail heard in the violin concerto went missing. Don't get me wrong, Bay wrung some big sounds from the ensemble, but one wished they had spent as much time rehearsing this cloud-misted mountain of a symphony as they apparently had the concerto.
— Michael Barnes

Hip-hop

BUN B ROLLS INTO TOWN

First things first: Bun B is a legend. With his musical partner Pimp C, he was one half of UGK, second perhaps only to the Geto Boys in the Houston hip-hop pantheon. Combining Pimp's detailed production with Bun's complex verse-making, they made a handful of albums — 1994's "Super Tight" and 1996's still-amazing "Ridin' Dirty" are the stone classics. They even showed up on Jay-Z's smash hit "Big Pimpin'."

But then Pimp C was jailed Jan. 28, 2001, for failing to complete a community service requirement stemming from an aggravated assault charge. The group couldn't capitalize on their fame and went on indefinite hiatus. Bun has since become one of the most valued underground voices in the Dirty South, adding fierce rhymes and no small amount of street cred to mixtapes and other people's albums. His solo debut, "Trill," dropped last year. It's Bun's moment; any live appearance by him is a big deal.

And even if the packed house and endless bar lines at the Back Room spoke to Bun's popularity, it was still an exhausting, infuriating show. Bun B was listed as going on at 11:30 p.m. and didn't take the stage until well after 1 a.m. Which wouldn't have been quite so awful if the only pre-Bun entertainment was DJ Pretty Ricky (admittedly keeping the crowd moving) and a host who kept pushing "the official afterparty at the Landing Strip until 5 a.m." and asking everyone to represent their ZIP code. "I've heard 0-2, I've heard 5-4, I've heard 2-1 and 2-3," he said, and Keep Austin Weird-types should notice that 0-4 was not in there.

But it was hard to stay mad when Bun took the stage (even if it was easy to stay tired). The man has an old school sense of showmanship and lyrical skill. Hits were broken out, including "Big Pimpin'." Now that Pimp C is out of jail, perhaps the old crew can get back together, come back to Austin, show us some love, and hit the stage before we all want to head over to the Landing Strip.
— Joe Gross

Collage

GABBIANI PULLS PIECES TOGETHER

Only eight artworks make up Francesca Gabbiani's exhibition at Lora Reynolds Gallery. Yet each of these works consists of many pieces of paper. Gabbiani creates collages, to which acrylic and gouache are added.

The collage medium often encourages a spontaneous and experimental process resulting in sometimes fragmented compositions, but not here. These are carefully constructed scenes depicting boldly cinematic interiors (deco looking homes) and exteriors (dark tree limbs over richly hued skies).

Not surprisingly Gabbiani cites cinematography and the city of Los Angeles as influences. They, like her work are assembled and frequently associated with stylized artificiality.

Ironically the two works that could be called exteriors, which are landscapes, are smaller than the interiors. They silhouette tall fir trees against saturated sunsets reminiscent of "Gone With the Wind" backdrops. Color choices and balancing detail with simplicity make these collages jewel-like.

Gabbiani's interiors have features commonly attributed to Surrealist canvases. The painted scenes are strikingly empty. They also all include prominent stairways or doorways, symbolic of psychological passages perhaps.

Unfortunately, when seen in person, these larger images (78 inches by 104 inches), suffer from their not-so-seamless production. Whether they are meant to show illusionistic space or instead negate a sense of depth, similar to Postimpressionist paintings or Japanese woodblock prints, is unclear. Individually colored shapes force awkward relationships and fail to communicate a cohesive whole.

Most exceptional and intriguing is Gabbiani's "White Book." A small accordion-style book pulls out to showcase brilliant laser-cut images in well-suited format. Inspired by the popular novel "Devil in the White City," by Erik Larson, Gabbiani includes miniature architectural structures and fair rides as "illustrations." "White Book" contrasts the precious and the ominous, as do the other works, but wins with its elegant and multi-faceted sophistication.

("Francesca Gabbiani: Wonderland" continues 11 a.m. to 6 p.m., Tuesdays-Saturdays, through February 25, Lora Reynolds Gallery, 300 West Ave., No. 1318, free, 215-4965.)
— Erin Keever

Comedy

DUAL COMEDIES MAY LEAVE YOU PARCHED

As it turns out, watching a group of privileged white people self-destruct is a fine recipe for a boring evening. And if those people also happen to be British, well, forget it. Something in that accent renders already blinding whiteness unbearable. Think about it — how tedious have Madonna and Gwyneth become since swapping the Stars and Stripes for the Union Jack?

"House" and "Garden," Alan Ayckbourn's disposable twin comedies about the stolid upper echelons of British society, demonstrate the sterilizing effects of over-bleaching. The plays, simultaneously performed by one cast on Austin Playhouse's main stage and second stage, represent undeniable successes — both artistically and technically — for the South Austin theater company. The performances were precise and the direction impeccable ("House" was directed by Don Toner, "Garden" by Lara Toner). Still, audiences may want to bring extra money for a bottle of water. It is a very dry night of theater.

"House" and "Garden" are set — you guessed it — in the house and garden of the Platt family's well-appointed country estate. Matriarch Trish is preparing for an afternoon garden party, while patriarch Teddy balances an offer for political candidacy with the revelation of his latest indirections. Trish and Teddy's selfishness has alienated their activist-minded daughter, Sally. Meanwhile, the Platts' next-door neighbors, the Maces, are busy negotiating their own crises. Giles Mace, an affable doctor, discovers that his mentally fragile wife, Joanna, has been having an affair with Teddy Platt. Further entangling the families, the Maces' son, Jake, announces his love for Sally.

A problem I've encountered at the Austin Playhouse in the past is that noise disruptively travels between the main stage and the shoebox of a second stage. When "A Man for All Seasons" and "Playboy of the Western World" both played, this was bothersome. Here, however, the renegade shouts filtering through the walls seemed par for the course. The garden is, after all, just outside the house.

("House" and "Garden" continue 8 p.m., Thursdays through Saturdays, 5 p.m. Sundays through February 19. Austin Playhouse, 3601 S. Congress Ave. $22-$25. 476-0084, www.austinplayhouse.com.)
— Tommy O'Malley