Weekend Reviews

Austin Lyric Opera's 'Il Trovatore' sings despite hurdles

Opera: "Il Trovatore"
Drama: "A Man for All Seasons"
Drama: "Bent'
Comedy: "Sex, Drugs Rock 'n' Roll"
Monologue: "American Fiesta"
Freak folk: Devendra Banhart

Web posted: Oct. 10, 2005

Opera

This production's improvised "schematic set," a platform with stairs, provided some theatrical magic — the stark simplicity of a prison cell for one — but most of the time, it proved muddled and confusing.

In the end, the single most important facet of an opera is its music, and Verdi's triumphant music was delivered with considerable aplomb by instrumentalists, soloists and chorus at Bass Concert Hall.

On Friday, playing out the fervid tale of Spanish gypsies, kidnapping, duels and serenades, Philip Webb's Manrico and Donnie Ray Albert's Count di Luna both brandished rich, mellow voices and even looked as though they could have been brothers. Mary Phillips' voice couldn't have suited Azucena, the crazy gypsy, better, and her powerful singing was matched by powerful acting and clear diction. Indra Thomas, as Leonora, the woman over whom Manrico and di Luna quarrel, possessed a lovely, high register, but lacked stamina for the role.

In general, Friday's performance provided rewarding big moments without any coherent drama to connect them. Aside from Phillips, the principals made beautiful sounds without intelligible words, and, as actors, they were lost. As conductor, Buckley led and accompanied well, but the fast moments were so fast that many telling musical details were lost.

On Saturday, I heard, among the second batch of leads, brighter voices, clearer diction and more details. Franco Pomponi's di Luna was both musical and snarly, but he needed a haircut. Judith Engel was another excellent Azucena. Barbara Quintiliani, as Leonora, sounded like a woman whom men would fight over. Stephen O'Mara, aside from backing off the intensity after intermission, delivered exciting, passionate singing as Manrico every time it counted. The chorus, trained by Marc David Erck, sang with hearty tone and terrific dramatic energy.
— David Mead

Drama

'A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS' SPRINGS TO LIFE

The hero of "A Man for All Seasons" will not wilt during the dramatic highs or lows. He's made of unyielding character, willing to die for his beliefs. Such a man was Thomas More, a beacon of integrity for Catholics during the English Reformation and the center of Robert Bolt's play, which reached Broadway in 1963 and the big screen in 1966, winning a mantelful of Oscars.

The play hinges on the audience's sympathy for More — memorably played by Paul Scofield in the movie — during his refusal to acknowledge Henry VIII's divorce of both queen and church, even with fatal consequences looming. And this sympathy must stretch a long way, considering More's sometimes passive, stubborn tactics (which makes for a slightly drawn-out ending).

But with veteran Austin actor David Stahl playing the title role, sympathy was never in question at Austin Playhouse on Friday. Stahl portrayed such a sincere, fatherly and dryly witty More that it was darn near impossible not to feel for his plight.

Stahl headlined a robust cast featuring Guy Roberts as a deliciously malign Thomas Cromwell, bordering on cartoonish villainy (and, indeed, in accoutrements resembling Snape of the Harry Potter world), and Brian Coughlin as a dynamic and convincing King Henry. Dirk van Allen's Common Man was generally likeable and well performed, but in a fashion that said very little. In such a humanistic play, conscious of politics and class, the Common Man's character was created to represent, as the name indicates, the commoners' sentiments. Van Allen's characterization did not.

Aside from a few awkward transitions, "A Man for All Seasons" was deftly staged with excellent lighting used to create a multitude of environments. Though the pace drags at time, director Don Toner's production successfully re-created a 16th-century world with More as its unmoving martyr ready to tug at your ethical heartstrings.

"A Man for All Seasons" continues at 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, 5 p.m. Sundays through Nov. 6. Austin Playhouse, Penn Field, Buildin C, 3601 S. Congress Ave. $22-25. 476-0084.
— Avimaan Syam

Drama

'BENT' SAGS WITH INDOLENT INTERPRETATION

Dash Mammoth Theatre's presentation of "Bent," Martin Sherman's 1979 play about the persecution of gay men in the Holocaust, is like a big, steamy dish with a frozen center. Director Barry Pineo's denuded production design thrust the script's perplexing moral intricacies into focus, but actor Ash Robinson's indolent interpretation of the central character, Max, effectively iced any heat produced by the creative team.

One thing that distinguishes "Bent" from other Holocaust dramas (apart from the homosexual overtones) is that it questions not only the actions of the oppressors, but also the victims. Movies such as "Schindler's List" or even "Sophie's Choice" validate the ethical violations perpetrated by people under duress. "Bent," meanwhile, confronts the audience with viscous moral scenarios that sit as easily as a tequila shot the morning after a raucous night out.

To help establish his tone, Pineo enlisted composer Content Love Knowles, an Austin artist also known for her work at the Vortex. Knowles' score complemented the plot progression, moving from borderless trance to staccato piano ("the music of tedium," as termed by the composer). While Knowles' efforts supported the director's vision, few of the actors assimilated to it.

The character of Max is perhaps one of the most conflicted in modern drama. A good-time boy in pre-war Berlin, he makes decisions based on a will to survive. Robinson's portrayal of the character rarely revealed the inner torment certain to plague someone in Max's position. His improbable recovery from successive traumas betrayed the playwright's intention to question his mode of survival.

Robinson's flatness was readily countered by veteran actress Karen Kuykendall, who, with only 15 minutes of stage time, managed to outshine every other performer in the two-and-a-half hour production. Stealing a page from Julie Andrews' ("Victor/Victoria") playbook, Kuykendall embodied female impersonator Greta (a role played by Mick Jagger on film) with due gusto and cynicism.

"Bent" continues 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays, 2:30 p.m. Sundays through October 30. The Blue Theatre, 916 Springdale Road, $15, 627-5031, www.bluetheater.org.
— Tommy O'Malley

Comedy

'SEX, DRUGS ROCK 'N' ROLL' PROVES LESS RISQUE

Has it really been 15 years since Eric Bogosian's volcanic, multicharacter solo rant, "Sex, Drugs Rock 'n' Roll", first hit the New York stage? Once tagged the Lenny Bruce of his generation, the blunt, volatile Bogosian outgrew his downtown roots during the late 1980s and early '90s to become something of a cultural barometer, measuring the extremes of American consciousness on stage and screen. That was before the performance artist assumed the role of movie and television star, specializing in blunt, if not especially dark characters.

And has it really been 13 years since Austin actor Ken Webster first manifested Bogosian's male characters, who betray a "inexplicable hunger for quick, sure, overpowering pleasure and its devastating effect on human behavior," to quote my original review for this publication?

Yep. And now Webster, looking like a slimmer Griffin Dunne, revives most of the personalities — a witty panhandler, a drug-fried rock star, a hard-playing Jersey bachelor, an endowed sexual conqueror, and so forth. Technically, everything about Webster's performance last week, played against graffiti-tagged walls, grooved into place, and a predominantly young audience — toddlers in 1990 — chortled at Webster's expert vocalizations and timing. Trouble was, Webster has lot some of his edge, especially the blistering anger that informed his earlier performances. The characters don't threaten to blow up in your face, as they did in 1992. It's still "Sex, Drugs Rock 'n' Roll," but the shock is gone.

"Sex, Drugs Rock 'n' Roll" continues 8 p.m. Thursday-Saturday. Hyde Park Theatre, 511 W. 43rd St. $15-$17 (Thursday is pay-what-you-wish). 479-PLAY.
— Michael Barnes

Monologue

SETTING THE TABLE WITH DEEP DISH ON SOCIETY

What color are you?

In our divisive times, it appears you have exactly two choices: blue or red.

The current zeitgeist — as the contentious 2004 elections illuminated — only reinforces the divisions between us. Nowadays, we're continually asked to place ourselves on one side or the other of hot-button issues. You either oppose the U.S. invasion of and war in Iraq or you support it. You either favor gay marriage or don't. You're pro-choice or pro-life. Democrat or Republican.

And we proclaim our blueness or redness — after all, nowadays we must make sure everyone knows where we stand — with yard signs and bumper stickers. It's as if we're literally drawing a line between everyone who is exactly like us and everyone who is not. And heaven forbid that we cross that line and talk to "them."

But what if that line isn't so definite? What if this country is made up of myriad hues? Playwright and performer Steven Tomlinson reveals that potential rainbow in "American Fiesta," his poetic and charming new solo show now at the State Theater.

Tomlinson, who won awards for his previous autobiographical monologues, "Managed Care" and "Curb Appeal," picks an apt metaphor to begin his exploration of the American soul: Fiestaware.

You see, in the feverish pre-election months of 2004, Tomlinson suddenly experienced a burning compulsion to collect the colorful Depression-era dishes. Fiestaware's appeal is visceral and was designed to be so. In the midst of the Great Depression, The Homer Laughlin China Company responded to people's deep desires by introducing affordable dinnerware in bright, cheerful hues. The dishes' streamlined shape was both familiar and optimistically futuristic. Their mix-and-match flexibility and affordability meant that only a few pieces were needed to brighten up a family's table or create a personal statement. They became the most popular dishes made in 20th-century America.

After one glimpse of a bright red Fiesta mixing bowl, Tomlinson was hooked. But perfection ruled his quest. He wanted only authentic vintage dinnerware, not the contemporary stuff. And he wanted flawless pieces with nary a hairline crack or blemish.

Tomlinson wanted other things to be perfect, too. He wanted his parents to accept his upcoming marriage to his partner without a moment's hesitation. He wanted everybody to accept what is new without any regard to the old.

"I don't want character," he says. "I want perfection."

So, on this quest for Fiestaware integrity and harmonious familial relationships, where did he find an answer?

Perhaps with the antiques dealer in rural Oklahoma who admonished him to quit his search for chinaware purity. "Stop worrying about what you can't get and imagine what you can do with what you have," the dealer said.

Or perhaps with the blind woman Tomlinson met at the Fiestaware collectors' annual convention. Her dishes were flawed, full of chips and cracks. And those flaws tell her stories. "Life and love and loss. That's what I'm after," she said. "The rest is just dishes."

The multitalented Tomlinson — he's also an adjunct professor at the Episcopal Theological Seminary of the Southwest and an award-winning economics professor who until recently taught at the University of Texas — deftly weaves the multiple threads of his story into a holistic and compelling 80-minute theatrical tapestry. He balances humor and wit with sincerity and morality. He alights on moments of profound clarity but doesn't dwell on didacticism.

Christopher McCollum's unfussy set comprising simple tables and shelves allowed Tomlinson to keep the pacing quick. (Yes, that's real vintage Fiestaware used onstage; no, it's not from Tomlinson's collection.)

Over the past few years, the State Theater has emerged as an essential producer of new Austin work, offering up-and-coming playwrights a chance to premiere their work in a professional venue. That's led to such acclaimed and award-winning work as John Walch's "Dinosaur Within" and Steve Moore's "Nightswim."

With Tomlinson, the State took a bigger step, commissioning a new script and leaving the choice of subject matter up to Tomlinson.

It was a wise investment. For in "American Fiesta," Tomlinson artfully and kindly leads us to the same realization where his journey led him: that we need to learn from the flaws we find everywhere, accept that what we have already makes a complete set and embrace the multiple colors we all sport. And when we do, like Fiestaware, we'll look good together.

"American Fiesta" continues 8 p.m. Wednesdays-Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays. State Theater, 719 Congress Ave. $27-$35. 479-PLAY. 1 (866) 4-GETTIX.
— Jeanne Claire van Ryzin

Freak folk

PEACE, LOVE AND A LITTLE CHARLES MANSON

Roughly 30 audience members crowded the stage at Emo's Monday night to boogie down during "I Feel Just Like A Child," neo-hippie Devendra Banhart's loosey-goosey jam about refusing to grow up and be taken seriously. Later, another audience member joined Banhart on "Little Yellow Spider," its children's lyrics evoking Shel Silverstein poetry: "Well, I came upon a dancing crab and I stopped to watch it shake/I said, dance with me just one more time before you hibernate, and you come out a crab cake." There was even an audience member to whom Banhart granted the stage for a half-performed song of her own.

This was done in the spirit of the all-inclusive, in-the-moment vibe Banhart has so meticulously, almost religiously, resurrected from the stone-cold '60s. His eerily hypnotic first two albums, "Rejoicing in the Hands" and "Nino Rojo," signaled the thrilling arrival of a suppressed ancient voice that quivered it was so anxious to communicate. Together, they anointed him head of what has been dubbed the freak-folk movement, which includes the likes of Joanna Newsom, CocoRosie, and Animal Collective. With the release of "Cripple Crow," a 22-song meandering divergence from his previous efforts, Banhart's ego finally got the best of him, though his band's fluid live performance didn't hint at the pretension that inspired him to record it in Woodstock, and with a congregation of Bindi-sporting longhairs paying homage to "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" on the album cover.

Likening Banhart to a cult leader isn't farfetched. At the close of the set, he played a song he said was written by Charlie Manson, with whom he shares a lot of similarities. Each is/was the head of a "family" in which the men favor facial hair and psychedelics are revered. And both have devotees who have been brainwashed into worshipping them as false gods.
— Michael Hoinski