SEARCH, FIND, SORT

posted to Cue Sheet by James Reel

    While checking out an Internet rumor at the invaluable and entertaining snopes.com, I thought I’d search the site for debunkings of urban legends and phony photos involving my instrument, the cello. But the word “cello” apparently appears nowhere on the snopes site, meaning perhaps that the instrument is too far off the cultural radar to be involved in wild tales (Giant alligator swallows cello whole!) or conspiracy theories (Chinese cello factories make endpins from metal illegally salvaged from World Trade Center debris!). Even though the search engine couldn’t find references to “cello,” it did return items involving words it determined to be somehow similar. The list of cello-related words, carefully sorted, tells a story I hesitate to explicate:
    soul
    sly
    slay
    cell
    sold

THE SHREW UNTAMED

posted to Cue Sheet by James Reel

    On Friday night, I plopped myself down on the Reid Park grass (allergies be damned), and much to my surprise thoroughly enjoyed the Parks & Rec community theater production of The Taming of the Shrew. This was the first time in its 19 years I had attended one of these “Shakespeare Under the Stars” productions; I’d always figured that, as so often happens in community theater, a lot of enthusiastic but stilted amateurs would plant themselves on stage for some stiff declaiming. I whole-heartedly support amateur theatricals, but it’s not something I care to attend unless I know somebody in the cast, and neither is it something that should be subjected to critical scrutiny. Well, now I wish I’d had space in the Tucson Weekly to review this show; much of the acting, mainly in the (many) principal roles, was as good as you’d find in any of Tucson’s non-Equity theaters, and director David Felix kept the action lively and fluid, the expression clear and meaningful.
    The one element that dissatisfied me was the delivery of Kate’s final speech. The actress had done a splendid job all evening, but at this critical moment she grew affected, and it was difficult to tell exactly what tone she and director Felix had in mind. This is the scene that invariably draws criticism today; the “shrewish” Kate—that is, she is lively, aggressive, outspoken, suffers no fools—has turned submissive, surrendering to husband Petrucchio’s intense psychological warfare, and declares that now that she has changed her ways other women should follow her example.
    I can imagine two ways to play this scene that would be true to Shakespeare while also satisfying our anachronistic objections to a play written 500 years ago for an utterly different society.
    First, there’s the feminist approach. Kate has been made subserviant, but only because she realizes the futility of her struggle. So she delivers that speech with sarcasm and bitterness. I think that might be what the Parks & Rec performance was hinting at, but not very strongly; the actress spoke with more detachment and faint mockery than anything else.
    There’s a second way to do it that pulls the entire play together. The evening begins with what seems to be a totally irrelevant episode, in which a drunkard named Christopher Sly is taken up, unconscious, by a nobleman who devises an elaborate practical joke. Sly is to be persuaded that he himself is actually a nobleman who has just awoken from a 15-year derangement or coma, whereupon, before he can make jolly with the person presented as his wife, he is asked to watch a play, which turns out to be The Taming of the Shrew. Thus, our “main” story is a play within a play, full of dissembling and disguise, presented to a man who is not the person he has come to think he is.
    Given this atmosphere of duplicity and false identity, and considering that Kate and Petrucchio obviously enjoy sparring with each other from their first meeting, wouldn’t it make sense for the “taming of the shrew” to be a huge practical joke that Kate and Petrucchio are playing on the people around them? Kate and Petrucchio are in on the joke together, and after all it’s the servants who suffer Petrucchio’s direct abuse as he attempts to bring Kate into line. What if Kate and Petrucchio are pulling a fast one, in effect pretending to be people they are not, in order to mock the expectations of their little society? All this reading would require are some conspiratorial glances, and somebody onstage during Petrucchio’s soliloquy when he lays out his plan to tame Kate—instead of confiding to us, he’s duping one or more of his servants or neighbors.
    In the end, Kate and Petrucchio would be thumbing their noses at the people around them, while embarking on a well-matched companionate marriage, which was a hot new topic in Shakespeare’s England.
    But then, I’m not the director. I’m just a guy sneezing in the grass, being entertained by a secure, unpretentious production of Shakespeare in the park.

LAUGH, LAUGH, LAUGH

posted to Cue Sheet by James Reel

    Three surprisingly good comedy productions opened in Tucson last week. Oddly, each one gets laughs from potential violence: Neil Simon in boot camp, old ladies poisoning old men, Israelis and Palestinians doing what comes naturally:

Neil Simon is prolific and popular, but he's written only three first-rate plays, together forming a semi-autobiographical trilogy in which young Eugene Jerome comes of age and becomes a writer in the 1930s and '40s. The UA's Arizona Repertory Theatre is presenting each of them, one per year; the company has now put up the middle panel in this triptych, Biloxi Blues, the most loosely structured but most emotionally and intellectually complex work in the series.

    You can read the rest here, and yes, for people like Russell Stagg who need to be poked in the eye with a big upturned thumb, I liked it. Meanwhile, across town …

    Now, here's a two-course theatrical meal that could keep you up all night: a nicely roasted old chestnut, followed by a highly spiced piece of gristle that rewards a thorough chewing-over.
    Live Theatre Workshop opened two absolutely unrelated comedies last weekend. The mainstage presentation is Joseph Kesselring's classic, Arsenic and Old Lace, wherein two charming, gently murderous old ladies find their hobby endangered by one nephew who's basically good, and another who is very, very bad. The late show is John Patrick Shanley's extended political metaphor Dirty Story, wherein two not-so-charming, not-so-gently murderous characters--call them Israel and Palestine--undertake a sadomasochistic apartment-sharing scheme.
    You'd think one play or the other would be unendurable, Arsenic and Old Lace old-fashioned and stale, Dirty Story annoyingly self-righteous. Not so. Each is quite fulfilling in its own distinct way, and Live Theatre Workshop trots them both out with hardly a misstep.

    The full review lurks here.

AYES ON THE PRIZE

posted to Cue Sheet by James Reel

    Stephen Elton, an excellent local actor and the man behind Beowulf Alley Theatre, has this response to my post against arts prizes:

    While I agree that arts prizes can ultimately be meaningless, they do have a tremendous value in publicity.  Every year people gather for the Academy Awards and have lively debates over which film or actor is better and who else should have been nominated.  Regardless of why a winner actually wins, we the people will disagree.  But, I think that’s OK because without the awards there would be no venue to have these discussions.  And I think even having something to complain about gives more life to any arts field.
    For a local example I can bring up the recent Tucson Pima Arts Awards.  Regardless of what I think about the nomination process or of any prestige related to the award, there were 400 people in the room that day that heard our name as a nominated organization.  This has great value to us because it is a form of endorsement.  Artists are always looking for audiences and audiences are faced with many choices in choosing their programming.  Any endorsement of an artist, even by a “trivial” award, may help artists get the audiences they deserve.
     I have wanted for some time to try and create an annual celebration of local theatre that would include annual awards.  The goal, more than anything, is to have a “celebration”; a way to look back once a year at the tremendous work that was put on stage.  It’s hard to have these types of events without giving awards.
     I also think awards are important because it’s a way for the community to show how they appreciate the arts.  When I go to eat at Pastiche restaurant I like to go a read the plaques they have hanging in the hallway by the restrooms.  They aren’t anything special, nothing named after a Swiss scientist.  But, there are a lot of little plaques from organizations that have appreciated something that Pastiche did and wanted to give them an award; a thank you; an endorsement.

RETURN OF THE PRODIGALS

posted to Cue Sheet by James Reel

    Bob Schneider sends this note:

    After 6 years away,most of it based in the Turkish Republc of Northern Cyprus, violinist Beth Ilana Gould and guitarist Matt Gould, better known as Duo46, are moving back to Arizona. They miss those many sunny days.
    Duo46 was established in 1994 when Matt and Beth were teaching assistants at the University of Arizona. (Beth is a former principal violinist of the Arizona Opera. Dan Asia, a member of the UA music faculty, is one of their commissioned composers). They will have a mini-residency this fall at the UA.

    You can find out more about this duo here.

CONTRA KEILLOR

posted to Cue Sheet by James Reel

    In Slate last week, Sam Anderson tried to figure out the appeal of Garrison Keillor:

He has come to represent a crucial schism in the national taste—the Great Continental Divide between sarcasm and earnestness, snark and purity, the corrupt and the wholesome. The mere sound of Keillor's voice—a breathy baritone that seems precision-engineered to narrate a documentary about glaciers—is enough to set off warfare between the generations.

    Anderson, if I’m reading him correctly, ultimately comes down in favor of Keillor. Not me. About 20 years ago, I managed to enjoy his Prairie Home Companion for exactly four weeks before I got fed up with it. Keillor strikes me as a clumsy humorist, for reasons you can hear in his attempts to sing: He has a poor sense of pitch and pacing.
    Keillor’s voice is much more pleasant than the nasal whine of fellow Minnesotan Bob Dylan, but if I’m going to listen to singing that’s flat when it isn’t simply monotonous, I’ll choose Leonard Cohen, if for no other reason than Cohen conveys a sense of irony that Keillor can’t manage. Not only can Keillor not manage to hoist himself up onto the proper melodic line (and no, he can’t get away with the excuse that he’s singing harmony, particularly not in solos), but he’s consistently behind the beat to an extent that has nothing to do with expressive rubato. He’s just late.
    Similarly, too much of his humor is flat and poorly paced. I’m not even talking about his “News from Lake Wobegon” monologues. Just listen to his smaller-scale stories, and especially his parodies of commercials. The setup takes way too long; it’s a lot of treading water before he finally dives to the bottom of the lake and plucks up whatever rusty prize with which he’ll ultimately surface. Then, when the comic payoff finally arrives, Keillor can’t let go of the routine; he drags it on and on.
    My problem with Garrison Keillor is not his subject matter, boring Midwesterners. I wouldn’t think you could make boring people the fodder for much more than a movie the length of Napoleon Dynamite, but Keillor has managed to spin a 30-year radio career out of boredom and blandness. It’s a tremendous challenge, and I congratulate Keillor on his effort and perseverence. If only, after three decades, he had better mastered the basic craft of humor.