XL Reviews

Alice in Chains, Blackholicus, 'Psycho Beach Party, 'Parade,' Cindy Lauper. 'Jim Caruso's Cast Party,' 'The Night of the Iguana'

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Rock

ALICE IN CHAINS BOUND WITH NEW MAGIC

Alice in Chains replaced the missing link at Stubb's on Tuesday when the Seattle grunge gods called on vocalist William DuVall to conjure the spirit of departed lead singer Layne Staley.

Opening with 1995's grinding "Again," the band that stormed to flannel-covered fame alongside Pearl Jam, Nirvana and Soundgarden unleashed a downpour of dreary hits that echoed and quaked like a supersonic séance.

Joined by wah-wah guitar hero Jerry Cantrell, drummer Sean Kinney and one-time Ozzy Osbourne bassist Mike Inez, DuVall delivered a wicked rendering of Staley's lyrical loathing.

As video images spiraled liked flashbacks, Alice dusted off "Them Bones," "Dam That River" and "Rain When I Die" before going acoustic for "The Killer is Me," "No Excuses," "Got Me Wrong" and the masterful misery of "Down in a Hole."

Flipping the switch from acoustic to caustic, Alice returned with "Sludge Factory" and the sadly prophetic "We Die Young" before simmering down to the gentle groove of "Heaven Beside You."

The silver lining is the shortest thread when it comes to Alice's nightmare, so things got ugly again with the frightening frown of "Angry Chair."

Knowing that combat boots were meant for marching, Cantrell and Co. unleashed the stitched-eyed stomp of "Man in the Box." The crowd's vocals were volcanic as the radio/MTV blockbuster erupted in Stubb's back yard.

Reality bites, and so does the truth behind Alice's encores. "Rooster" is one of the goatee generation's biggest hits, but its roots are buried in the dirt of Staley's war veteran father. Likewise, "Would?" is an obituary for Mother Love Bone singer Andrew Wood.

Alice's doomed wonderland reminds us that Seattle's misguided casualties still shine brightly.
— David Glessner

Comedy

'PSYCHO BEACH PARTY' BASKS IN CAMP

A "Sesame Street" song came into my head as my theater date and I straggled into Arts on Real for "Psycho Beach Party." One of these things is not like the other; one of these things just doesn't belong. That would be me. I was one misplaced girl in a group of mostly aging men. Before the show started, about four other women filed in, and I lost my special feeling. Then the play began, and I lost it even more.

Charles Busch's psycho-thriller/camp comedy/"Gidget" beach party plot goes like this: In 1962 Malibu Beach, teenagers search for fun on the beach while people with slight differences (a harelip, psoriasis) are murdered one at a time. Wanna-be surfer Chicklet makes herself a niche in the popular surf boy crowd, and slowly discovers her split personalities may have a hand in the murders.

I arrived thinking this was not my thing — I did not want to laugh. But in the end, Breanna Stoger's explosive rendition of Chicklet won me over. Chicklet's Ann Bowman personality was at first scary and confusing, but revved up to hilarious outbursts when other personalities appeared. Doug Lebelle, in drag as detective Monica Sharpe, dished out physical comedy and great lines. And, yes, the pretty boys in bright spandex swim trunks were eye candy, bodybuilder and gay porn legend Matthew Rush among them.

As expected of camp, the play celebrated differences instead of hiding them. I realized that being one of the few female audience members helped me fit right in.

("Psycho Beach Party" continues 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays through Oct. 29. Arts on Real, 2826 Real Street. 472-ARTS.)
— Sarah Rigdon

Musical

PARADE OF TALENT, LACKLUSTER PLAY

"Parade" concludes Alfred Uhry's trilogy that begins with "Driving Miss Daisy." The cast at St. Edward's University gives an uplifting performance, but it just made me wish they'd stuck with Uhry's earlier, better work.

"Parade" tells the story of Leo Frank and Mary Phagan. In 1913, Mary was murdered in the Atlanta factory that Leo, a Yankee Jew, supervised. Leo is railroaded through court, but eventually, his death sentence is commuted. No happy ending: Leo is lynched by the early core of the modern Klu Klux Klan.

Serious stuff, but instead of solid exposition in the first act, Uhry skips from a song-and-dance number to a Southern-fried, cornpone cliché and back again. Instead of empathetic characters, we get hokey caricatures of slick-as-oil lawyers and put-upon liberals.

Fortunately, the cast does an admirable job of filling in the gaps. Actors Equity guests David Michael Long, as Leo, and Quincy Kuykendall, as the "eyewitness" Jim Conley, breathe life into Uhry's characters. Kuykendall's soulful song as a member of the chain gang is the most powerful and deeply resonant number of the show. But junior Daniel Adams, as yellow journalist Britt Craig, provides the first showstopper of the evening, swinging and jiving through a drunken ode to Atlanta.

It takes talent to make a mediocre play enjoyable. It's just a shame the talent doesn't earn a better vehicle.

("Parade" continues at 7:30 p.m. today -Saturday and 2 p.m. Sunday. Mary Moody Northen Theatre, St. Edward's University. $10-12. 448-8484. www.st

edwards.edu/hum/thtr/mmnt.html.)
— Joey Seiler

Metal A METAL BAND TO RULE THEM ALL?

It's hard not to think of "The Lord of the Rings" when watching Blackholiclious Blackholicus. The Austin metal band's monster set Friday night at Beerland Friday night induced a head-banging so pure, so primal, so Beavis in nature that all one could say was "YES! This rules!"

Yet, one kept thinking this was simply the band's gig right before they headed off to Mount Doom. See, the band is fronted by bassist/singer Margaret Myrick, who has been studying her instrument for well over a decade. On her MySpace page, she lists guitar virtuoso Yngwie Malmsteen as one of her primary influences, which goes a long way to explaining her fondness for bass lines both lightning-fast and dizzyingly complicated.

She's also about 5 feet tall, looking roughly hobbit-sized next to tall guitarists Michael Nelsen and Domenic Schiera (or, as I call them, "Boromir and Aragorn"). Nelson Nelsen and Schiera's twin-guitar harmonies draw from the new wave of British heavy metal titans such as Iron Maiden and Judas Priest. As for drummer Spencer Swietek, with his giant tom-toms hit with cave-in force, throw a beard on him and we have our Gimli! (No room for pretty boy Legolas here, people.)

"Rings" author J.R.R. Tolkien isn't exactly a new influence in metal - he's been hovering in the background of all things heavy and rocking since Led Zeppelin. But it's rare that you see a band that could dress like them for Halloween and make it work. It certainly helps that their songs are filled with classic metal (and "classic metal") riffs played with a dragon-slaying mix of precision and abandon, nerdy fantasy and sci-fi lyrics, and instrumental tunes with names like "Victory, Part One and Two."

While the three dudes looked like they rolled out of bed, Myrick's look was pretty genius - a cocktail dress, giant fake pearls and bare feet. Myrick, a one-time American-Statesman contributor, She also kept jumping around and heading into the crowd without missing a lick, a girlish Frodo urging the Fellowship further down the path to Mordor.

I'm not sure if the world is ready for a power metal version of "The Road Goes Ever On," (nor should it be) but no doubt Blackholicus could deliver a better take than anyone else in town.
- Joe Gross

Singer

TIME AFTER TIME, LAUPER PROVES HER METTLE

In more than one way, Cyndi Lauper is a wonder. Lauper, who rose to fame as the most unusual of the 1980s pop princesses, treated a packed house at the Paramount Theatre to a nearly two-hour tour of her greatest hits last Saturday. In doing so, the 53-year-old New Yorker demonstrated why she is, was and always will be better than that other '80s export to whom she has most frequently been compared, Madonna.

Last spring, while Lauper was redefining the role of Jenny in "The Threepenny Opera" on Broadway, Madonna was hanging herself on a sparkly crucifix - a controversy, the likes of which we haven't seen since . . . Madonna bedeviled a Jesus statue in the "Like a Prayer" video. Notice a pattern? When Madonna needs to sell records or tickets, she drags out the Christian cart. Lauper, meanwhile, eschews irrelevant headlines, and instead mixes fierce talent with a genuine, identifiable love for performing.

After opening with a dramatic rendition of the "Song of the Extraordinary Crimes of Mac the Knife" from "Threepenny," Lauper proceeded to shower the audience with her hyper-active hyperactive brand of pop. Her startling, outsized voice - which still contorts itself into that delightful shriek-flooded the theater and forced everyone onto their feet. At turns throughout the evening, Lauper was playful (leading an audience sing-along to "The Goonies" theme), seductive (rolling around the edge of the stage - better than Madonna did at 26 - during "I Drove All Night") and serious (discussing civil rights before launching into "True Colors").

Next summer, Lauper hopes to launch a "True Colors" festival to benefit the Human Rights Campaign. The long-time longtime gay rights activist hopes to recruit a number of like-minded performers for the tour, including the Scissor Sisters and the hilarious Jill Sobule, who opened for Lauper in Austin. The lineup will not likely feature any crucifixions; however, with Lauper at the helm, the show is sure to include its share of actual inspiration.
- Tommy O'Malley

Cabaret

'CAST PARTY' REVELS WITH LOCAL SINGERS, BIG APPLE SASS

Austin Cabaret Theatre opened its season with what will hopefully become an annual tradition - "Jim Caruso's Cast Party." A Monday night staple at Manhattan's Birdland jazz club for the past four years, is a structured open-mike, where local performers - typically of some esteem - show off in a (semi) relaxed setting. Bringing their act to Austin for the first time, M.C. host Jim Caruso and pianist Billy Stritch - both transplanted Texans - delivered Empire State sass and class.

On Thursday evening at the Mansion at Judge's Hill, Caruso and Stritch sang together and separately. Both capable vocalists, the duo spent most of their time interacting with (and in Stritch's case, accompanying) a brave group of local singers, including the Cabaret's artistic director, Stuart Moulton, and Austin's fiercest stage diva, Jill Blackwood. For the most part, the performers acquitted themselves nicely. Nothing was tragically embarrassing (a good or bad thing, depending on your view), but at the same time, nothing was really face-meltingly good (Blackwood's raw rendition of "Gimme Gimme" from "Thoroughly Modern Millie" came close). Indeed, the real joy in Austin's "Cast Party" came less from the performances than from Caruso and Stritch's alternately scathing and compassionate repertoire.

The duo's quick responses, both in conversation and song, kept the program at a brisk pace. When a couple of people fumbled their lyrics, Stritch maintained his place while they recovered. And when one singer joked that his red shirt was the result of a burst blood vessel, Caruso deadpanned back, "So comedy's you'reyour thing." Playing the part of an unwitting something-that-rhymes-with-Stritch, Caruso proved that comedy is definitely his thing.
- Tommy O'Malley

Theater

STUDENTS PLUNGE INTO 'NIGHT OF THE IGUANA'

Last season, Texas State University-San Marcos presented Central Texas audiences with the shiny gift of Aphra Behn's rarely performed comedy "The Rover." It was among the lightest, most assured productions of a classic that I've witnessed from a college drama department during more than 40 years of observation. (And it won an Austin Critics Table Award for costumer Sheila Hargett.)

This week, many of the same artists collaborated on Tennessee Williams' seldom-done drama of rattled faith on the Mexican coast, "The Night of the Iguana." Once popular, "Iguana" does not rank in substance with "A Streetcar Named Desire," "The Glass Menagerie" or "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof," but it generates a tropical tangle of desperate characters and high-minded themes.

Director Michael Costello is known for pulling amazing performances from young actors. In this case, most of them could have used a few decades of hard knocks to deepen their characterizations, and the arc of the primary exorcism wobbled at times. Yet they clearly understood and honored Williams' meditations on human foibles.

As a disgraced minister trying to shake off multiple ghosts while keeping his job as a tour guide, Harlan Short gave a frazzled, frenetic, illuminated performance, interrupted by moments of grace, as when responding to a coat shrouding his shoulders. Caitlin Swahn played the earthy widow hotelier from her firmly planted bare feet up, nicely counterbalancing the tornadic Short. The student who most closely hewed to Williams' words and spirit was Amber Snyder, whose ladylike calm and good-tempered philosophy drew a line of beauty through a rather long evening. Scenic designer Don Roose III provided the 3-D Mexican mountainside inn, which one wishes were enriched by more atmospheric sound and lighting design.

Texas State students are very lucky to experience a theater program that allows cracks at such greatness.

("The Night of the Iguana" continues 7:30 p.m. Oct. 4-7, 2 p.m. Oct. 8. Main Stage, Texas State University-San Marcos. $5-$10. 512-245-2204.)
- Michael Barnes