Spelling Bee

I’ve been lax on these posts, but several of you have been kind enough to prod me with very kind words to return to them. For a guy who loves language, last night’s play was a great excuse…so, first, I'll go back to Souvenir, from the Hanover Tavern, then switch to B'Dales' other venue, Willow Lawn, and write about 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee.

January 2, 2010
(Much was made on Facebook of the date being a palindrome.)

Went to the Barksdale Theatre at Willow Lawn, and there saw the 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. Singing its praises will hardly be an ineffable task…

It was a delightful, funny, a bit bawdy and sweet. Wait, sorry---it was delectable, effervescent without being capricious, and sweet without being saccharine. I would use sacchariferous, but that’s really reserved for chemicals containing or yielding sugar. Regardless, what this “Bee” contains (and yields) is nicely and not overly sweet.

We first meet Rona Lisa Perretti, the inimitable Debra Wagoner, and Vice Principal Branch, adorably played by Ford Flannagan, who explain “The Rules of the Bee.” Ask for a definition. Ask to have the word used in a sentence. Ask for language of origin. Audience plants are listening carefully and nervously.

“Bee” is a musical take on all our childhood experiences with spelling bees in specific and competitions in general. More, it’s an inventive look at identity, particularly the contributions thereto made by the defining experiences of childhood. Transpiring in front of an audience, some are certainly traumatic, these experiences shape us. No surprise, of course, but fun. Metaphors for a life in the theatre abound, so what at first might seem strange grist for the stage soon becomes clear.

Musically it’s rich, fun and outstandingly sung by the cast. But its ability to connect with us, while it uses the music to do so, goes beyond the score.

Partly it’s our own memories: at the start, almost immediately, the singular spelling bee moment of my life came to mind. In the 5th or 6th? Grade, my recollection is that the entire school was required to participate. Union Chapel Elementary, Parkville, MO. I didn’t make it past my very first word. The huge challenge given me? “Kindergarten.” Now, every rational adult (and child) knows that here, I’ve just spelled it correctly. But even today, even now typing it, I’m grateful for spell check; “Kindergarten” always creates a little reverberation in my head: ---shouldn’t it be spelled just like “garden?” An assortment? A safe haven for small children? An innocent array of nutritious morsels of learning? A GARDEN for, in fact, KINDERS? All these went through my 10 year-old brain, and they still do. In front of the whole school, I reached that moment of singularity, an event horizon in time and space: was it D-E-N or T-E-N?? I thought and thought---all the thoughts listed above---wanted to say D-E-N because even-if-that’s-not-how-it’s-spelled-it-should-be! But no! Both “kinder” and “garten” come from the German, of course, dating back to the Indo-European roots for “stoopid” and “GARDEN.” I said neither.

“Awww, P-D-Q.”

And sat down. Moron.

Always try! It might have been right! In education we stigmatize mistakes---but for the arts, students are wary of making them. Especially the ‘tweens, in front of their peers. Younger children will risk it---they’ll play, they’ll try. But older? Fill in the wrong bubble, and colleges, careers, lives are shattered. Creativity requires accepting the risk of being wrong. But I digress.

This awkward and solipsistic phase of life, for most thankfully brief, nonetheless has tremendous influence on the folks around us. And through the lens of Bee, quite enjoyably so. We’re meant to learn of course that all the phases of life exert tremendous influence on those around us. Hardly new material, but the show communicates it in a novel and not blatantly didactic manner.

It’s achieved mostly through the wit of its silly comic writing—last night’s audience laughed wholeheartedly throughout—and strong character choices. Many are especially moving, both in development, (several characters really significantly learn winning isn’t everything), and in physical and vocal distinctions (three of four main finalists have speech impediments). Their growth is palpable, especially the decisive moments stuck in a spotlight of Audra Honaker, Aly Weplo, Eric Stallings and Yvonne Same. Honaker’s leap into the caretaker’s arms—the actor also plays her father, well, one of them—was beautiful and heartbreaking, and Weplo’s main number, sung partly with Debra Wagoner and William Cortez-Statham, tear-inducing. “The I Love You Song,” saved for last, was clearly the standout of the production. All great stuff. But then, I’m a softie.

There’s quite a bit in the ‘losing victories’ of both Honaker and Same, suffering through onerous parental expectations, and overcoming a kind of cultural determinism---true too for the ‘caretaker’ role of Cortez-Statham, but for the most part, Bee is about self-determinism and life itself.

A couple of brief items: I wanted to see Matt Shofner’s “Leaf Coneybear” get more chance to dance---but Leaf fit superbly into what made each of the “children” adorable.

And I was all set to be perturbed with Matt Polson for not mentioning Richmond Shakespeare in his bio (he was Lorenzo in The Merchant of Venice ’04, Lucentio in Taming of the Shrew,’06 and Ferdinand in The Tempest in ’07) but he was so committedly playful and silly (and had a kind of bumpy week), so I gladly gave the guy a break.

Richmond loves and should celebrate even more the talent of Debra Wagoner. I’ve loved her voice and actors’ intuition for that suspended moment—when we catch an emotion with an actor and share it. Debra knows these moments so well, and can use them like a laser. She sings a refrain that even describes it---“Her Favorite Moment of the Bee,” was an instant in which we process emotion on stage. We recall the emotion, and we’re brought to the moment with the actor. Sympathy. Syzygy! (Yes, it’s a word. If you’ve seen the show you know why I mention it here) Debra was also in high gear in this same fashion last month in Souvenir at the Hanover Tavern. --With the fantastic Jonathan Spivey---who juggled (jongleur!) the difficult task of accompanying and performing. Lovely performances, both. I've written a bit more on Souvenir here .

But it’s Weplo’s “Olive Ostrovsky” that the show centers on—educators (like Douglas Branch and Rona Lisa Perretti) are perennially thrilled by a stand-out gifted student discovering a talent, and the show’s repeated focus on what makes ‘a winner’ shine particularly bright in her happiness for a newfound friend, a newfound talent, and an enjoyment of recognizing that talent in her friends. Far more winning, indeed. Weplo is the perfect choice for her. What a treat.

Also lovely to see the spot-on direction of Steve Perigard. The assembled team, inexorably swift timing, particular guidance to actors in character development, and terrific use of the Marjorie Arenstein Theatre stage. I wanted to see more of the band, wonderfully led by Musical Director Sandy Dacus (clearly phenomenal work with her singers, as well), especially post curtain call--the scrim panel hiding them was so good that the audience tended to forget they were there. But that’s just being nit-picky.

A final word on some of the participatory/improvisatory elements of the show. Spoilers follow, so read these after you’ve seen the production….It’s a great device, to place adult actors playing children beside audience members. So, too to have audience members spell ludicrous words, easy and difficult, and poke fun at them even as the characters are also embarrassed. (Is there, after all, a more embarrassing thing than to misspell a word in front of hundreds of people? Well, perhaps only a physical embarrassment for males could be worse, and that’s in the show, too)

But I learned that Ford Flannagan, selects words for the audience members, writes the sentences that may be requested for each word, and improves the scenes with the ‘ringers.’ The unpredictability could have led to awkward disruptions in the flow of the show, but they were beautifully chosen, deftly handled, and tons of fun for the audience. Debra and the whole cast gets into the act.

Congratulations to the whole cast and crew---it’s flawlessly called by Rick Brandt, btw, and attractively designed by Ron Keller, Lynn Hartmann, Derek Dumais and Liz Hopper (no small task, costuming adult actors as children—here it’s a nice balance). I had a great time, and encourage you to catch the show before it closes on January 17.

Then go see RS’ first Second Tuesdays Staged Reading of 2010 on the 12th, Ben Jonson’s delicious Volpone, directed by Jeff Cole. $15 and you get a glass of wine. Jeff was of course our most recent Hamlet, and I’m eagerly awaiting Jeff’s performance as Iago in our mainstage production of Othello, beginning in February, also at CenterStage

Cheers, Happy New Year, and see you at the theatre.

-Grant

Thoughts on Barksdale's Production of "Moonlight and Magnolias"

I’ve been waiting for Scott Wichmann to burst through a glass ceiling.

He has been so wonderful on so many occasions. But there has always been a kind of glass ceiling hovering over him; I’ve struggled to define it.

He nearly shattered it during Scapino, a showcase crafted largely for audiences to enjoy his stunning timing, musical skill, athleticism, wit and inventiveness; together they have proven him one of the most engaging actors audiences will ever see on a stage. In fact, Scott flew so fast and scrapped so comedically hard as Scapino that he cracked a rib.

In Jails, Hospitals and Hip-Hop, he was a lithe, steel muscle playing a myriad of roles, out-Dannying Danny Hoch.

His violent realization of “Chicken,” in Tennessee Williams’ Kingdom of Earth chilled the theatre and was complete and visceral.

In I Am My Own Wife, he transcended gender and allowed a very human audience to accept someone very different from themselves, simply for the grace of their experience, the love of their life. He helped them see a character without prejudice of gender, sexual orientation, race or religion. It was a remarkable experience and one I won’t soon forget.

He’s a little guy who actually became the spirit of Frank Sinatra. I’ve seen him stop on a comic dime, catch an entire audience in one glance, and wind them around his little finger. For Richmond Shakespeare, he's shown us his Bottom. Twice. He was indeed a mercurial Mercutio, created a pathetic Malvolio. His Grumio could knit.

But there’s something still to do. There’s a role--I’m not yet sure which—that will do more than challenge him. It will allow him to become one of the immortals. It will rely on his comic timing, allow free use of his ability to move an audience, and demand absolute immersion; it will push Scott further than he’s ever been pushed. It might not necessarily be as physical as previous roles, but it will elevate him into (beyond?) the atmospheric likes of Bill Irwin, Kevin Kline, or Will Kempe somehow merged with Robert Armin. –Clown work, the work of an actor, at its most intelligent, transcendent and rewarding.

Clearly, I think that role will be a Shakespeare creation. But then, I’m a little biased. Stay tuned on that front.

One thing I know for sure: his role in “Moonlight” was a key part of the process.

In Moonlight and Magnolias this past weekend I had the delightful privilege of watching him work the straightman role, in which comic timing isn’t about the garish, outlandish laugh, the commedia-inspired, pie-in-your face laughter of Scapino or Bottom. Rather it was a character brimming with wit and inspired despite--maybe even because of--exhaustion. It was a subtle performance, and one I was thrilled to see. It’s a stone along Scotty’s path. Something else is coming.

Can’t wait to see what it will be.

* * *

Let me switch gears, however, because while I’m fascinated with Scotty’s progression, the full company in Moonlight and Magnolias was marvelous and I don’t want to give anyone short shrift. These guys (and one gal) are pros. The script was tight, the direction was really flawless and the performances were hilarious. Steve Perigard’s direction has always been great but here, some of his finest work was on display. It’s been fascinating to watch his growing confidence. Here, each moment of narrative suspense—comic or otherwise—was perfectly timed. The overall collaboration between actors, designers and audience (the real work of a director) was outstanding. Of particular note: watching the show one could clearly discern moments where actors and director debated the timing of a sequence; I recall every single one seemed to crack out of the park like a line drive. A specific recollection: Scott’s single “click” at the typewriter. Too long of a pause and you lose it. Too short and there’s insufficient buildup. It was just right, and the laugh was great. Director-freeing-an-actor. Fantastic.

The scenic design work too was fantastic, nicely evoking Hollywood power brokers of the late 1930’s, nearing the peak of its golden age. The properties crew did seriously impressive yeoman's work with aplomb, strewing the stage with the detritus of three men frantically finishing the screenplay of Gone With the Wind in just five days.

David Bridgewater’s rendition of Melanie Wilkes as she gives birth outdid even his “Prissy,” the slave whose famouslyfunnyanddisturbing “I-don’t-know-nothing-about-birthing-no-babies” line is perhaps the 2nd most famous in the film. David was simply hilarious, and has honed gruff tough-guy to an art. After The Lark, Over the River and Through the Woods, The Odd Couple and Caliban in The Tempest, I’m really looking forward to seeing David play someone crisp, smooth and stylish. Someone imperfect, yes, but with exquisite language. Something that forces us to figure out if all that toughness is internal or external. This boorish 1930's film director with fun vulnerabilities was great, but this and one turn as Cyrano just has not been enough to satisfy.

Joe Pabst, too, is an actor I’ve always really liked, from the very moment, long ago in The Boys Next Door (I think) when he leaned against a wall and I couldn’t tell where the actor stopped and the character began. He had several recognition moments like that in Moonlight and Magnolias; like the moment Selznick’s Jewish heritage serves as a lens through which America’s pre-war bigotry was painfully visible. Joe can stagger an audience in those moments. Through them, Pabst crafts the quintessence of an American. We seem to value self-determination, independence and the freedom to craft our life as we see fit. Perhaps that sentiment holds deeply true for all of us, among those truths we hold so self-evident: that God created us equally, to pursue happiness howsoever we define it. Selznick, in Pabst’s performance, seems to seize upon Gone With the Wind to propel him beyond the failures of his father, to achieve that which is proscribed by the society around him (openly or otherwise): simply to create—with the talents given him—and to refuse being defined by the dictates of others. Self creation.

Finally, there’s Joy Williams. Joy took on a potentially forgettable role, but especially at the climax of her character’s journey, in which she comes completely undone by exhaustion and laughter and doubles over onstage, Joy crafted a uniquely human moment. Her near-collapse was so real we absolutely loved her for it. So----Mr. Selznick! The rest of the day off was far too little a thank you for Williams’ effort. That girl deserved a raise.

Thanks to all of you for a really delightful night in the Barksdale.

Congratulations to Steve Perigard, to the design team, to the actors, to Bruce Miller for selecting the play and to Barksdale Theatre for rising transcendently above. Richmond will look forward to their next production. After all, tomorrow is….another day!