            |
|
 |
 |
Company artistic director Toni Pimble's 1988 Beauty and the Beast hasn't been performed since its revival in 1991. It is an extremely interesting and charming rendering of the tale Disney made saccharine and Jean Cocteau made avant-garde. Cocteau's multi-layered 1946 film provided the choreographic impetus for the ballet, making Pimble's work as surrealistic as his symbolic take on the ancient story of transformation, love and loss. "Most fairy tales have a message for the young listener, usually teaching life lessons and morals," Pimble notes in the program. "The Cocteau movie deals with the psychology of Beauty and the Beast, suggesting [its] mystical meaning." Brett Mills is the girl who loves her father too much to grow up and leave home, and Matthew Christensen will portray the Beast who is freed, eventually, by her love. Jennifer Martin and Jennifer McNamara are Beauty's nasty sisters, and Joshua Trader her suitor. The vocabulary is classical with some modern twists in one of Pimble's early explorations in the mixing of techniques. Visual touches from the film include statues that come to life and seemingly disembodied hands. Lights designed by Lloyd Sobel and the judicious use of scrim contribute to the multi-layered effect. Costumes and masks are by Lynn Bowers and Amy Panganiban. The score was created by Pimble's choosing music from early 20th century French composers Maurice Ravel and Albert Roussel. The Bluesman is quite another story. In fact, it's not a story at all but rather a piece that focuses on pure movement and the response of three choreographers to Curtis Salgado's music. Salgado and the members of his blues band will perform on stage with the dancers. Pimble, who choreographed two sections of the 40-minute work, made it a collaborative effort by offering Eloy Barragan and Matthew Hope the opportunity to choreograph. "Jazz is not my forte," Pimble said in a mid-mid February interview. Nevertheless, as an intensely musical choreographer, she has always loved the harmonica music in which Salgado made his mark. And jazz in the blues form is one of Pimble's many 4 and eclectic 4 sources of inspiration. A jazzy tone will be set from the beginning, with a solo by Hope, now in his seventh season as a company dancer. "I've improvised in the studio," Hope said in an interview, "but never on stage." Previously a dancer with Chicago's modern Hubbard Street, Hope has choreographed for youth companies but not for the Eugene Ballet. He characterizes his sections 4 titled "Vodoo" and "I Want to Know" 4 as playful works more about dancing than anything else. "It's been really easy," he said of the collaborative process. "The dancers are open, and the process has been really fun and not at all stressful." Barragan, who retired from performing a year ago, said he's delighted to be back in the studio to choreograph but admits he doesn't miss dancing. His sections 4 "Drop Down Mama" and "Hit it 'n Quit It" 4 focus on partnering but will not be characterized by any particular Latin flavor. Bluesman is a company work, and Pimble uses all the dancers in "El Gado." Her second contribution is a solo for Jennifer McNamara 4 "Too Young to Know" 4 tailored for her extraordinary extension and flexibility. Taken as a whole, "It is what it is," Pimble said, "a high energy work for the whole company." Salgado and band members Jesse Young, D.K. Stewart, Willie Barber and Reinhardt Melz perform two musical interludes. Costumes are by Panganiban, and the lights are Sobel's.
But this Tempest isn't about revenge; it's about forgiveness. Prospero has gone deep inside herself, alone on her island, to search her soul. She has raised her daughter; now it is time to face the world. By bringing her wrongdoers to her; she sets the stage for her re-entry to society. She must let go of her reclusive state; of her absolute powers over her tiny duchy, and that's scary. But only by forgiving her enemies, by letting go of control, can she take her rightful place as ruler of Milan. At the moment of release, we see the power of love enter her, making her more potent than her magical powers over Ariel (Cristoffer Jean), Caliban (John Pribyl) and the island (scenic designer William Bloodgood) ever could. Pittman carries the play, steady and strong. Jean's Ariel, spirit of fire and air and servant to Prospero, is beautiful and exotic. Jean is a very feminine man who is perfect for the part, with angelic singing voice and movements. John Pribyl's Caliban, the savage, deformed, only somewhat human inhabitant of the island, is deliciously comic and tragic; at times he seems to have stepped out of The Rocky Horror Show. The comic scenes with Caliban, Stephano (G. Valmont Thomas) and Trinculo (U. Jonathan Toppo) are madcap and fun. The staging is magical and dreamy with music and scenery that billows and floats and lighting that pulls you in to someplace ethereal and enchanted. Can we take the hand life has dealt us and use it to create our own reality? In Segismundo's (Kevin Kenerly) case, his reality, being raised in a cave with only one human contact 'til he's of age, has been created for him by his father, Basilio (Richard Howard), the King of Polonia, who read in an astrological chart that his son's life would be full of trouble. When his wife dies in childbirth, he believes his reading was true, and banishes his son, Segismundo, to a cave with only one servant, the loyal Clotaldo (Jeffrey King), to raise and tutor him. When Segismundo reaches age 20, his father has him summoned and has the story of his birth revealed to him. But Segismundo is beastial, angry and confused. His actions in the court are anything but noble. He goes through a similar journey as Prospero, playing out his anger at his betrayal, wanting revenge, using it as an excuse for his misbehavior and mistreatment of others; before coming to the realization he must forgive and behave justly 4 thus allowing love to enter his heart and life to begin anew. How he chooses to view his reality, as a dream, being able to step back and observe his daily actions/interactions and consciously choose how he acts/reacts, can be viewed as a symbol of his incurable insanity or his indelible wisdom. His love is Rosaura (Vilma Silva), a young woman wronged by Astolfo (Jonathan Adams) who seduced her and left, just as her father, Coltaldo, whom she has never met, did to her mother. She arrives in Polonia dressed as a man, seeking her revenge on Astolfo, and in search of her father. In the original text, she gets her due reward when Astolfo agrees to marry her to restore her honor. But director Williamson felt that in modern days her marriage to a cad would be "unsatisfying" and instead he has her rejecting Astolfo and instead marrying Segismundo, who is her true noble equal. Both are on a journey to right the wrongs done to them. How they get there is a beautiful piece of art. The opening scene, where Rosaura is thrown from her horse, landing her at the foot of Segismundo's cave, is so powerful it drew thunderous applause from the audience, setting the stage for what would be a phenomenal production and a magnificent multi-media journey of music, sound, light, imagery, and projections on moving translucent screens showing changing constellations for astrological predictions and dreams. Kevin Kenerly is the divine diva of this spoken opera. Rarely have I seen a lead actor handle dialogue with such masterful elocution. His performance is riveting. He immediately pulls the audience members in, chains, shackles and enslaves them in his own cave of tremendous presence and holds them steady throughout the performance. At one point, Kenerly delivers a monologue on memory being nothing more than dreams. After awhile, I realized he was standing still on a darkened stage, speaking a beautiful aria that had the audience completely enraptured. That is a lofty accomplishment for an actor 4 to so thoroughly grab and hold the audience that nothing matters beyond the words, thoughts and ideas being conveyed. No embellishments were necessary. Credit also must go to Laird Williamson for his adaptation of Calderon's sometimes murky text, releasing the language so it floats like gossamer in a dreamy landscape. A few flaws are mere stumbling blocks. Jeffrey King (Clotaldo) hasn't found his character in every scene; he has three important lines that sum up separate ideas and he deadpanned them, at one point beginning to exit before he even finished the sentence, which should have hung there like a jewel 'til lights out. Rosaura sometimes had an accent; sometimes didn't. It doesn't matter; she just needs to make a decision before curtain and stick with it. Noticeable, yet ultimately minor flaws, outweighed by the magnificence of the production. Also opening last weekend were Enter The Guardsman and The Trip To Bountiful. Where's the Exit? It might not have been so bad if the opening number, "Tonight Was Like The First Night," didn't imply exactly that, leaving us nowhere to go. Or if the leads had been believable as the most desirable man and woman in theater; or if the over-amplification of the musical numbers hadn't been such an earsore, or if the book and score had been above mediocre, or if the cues had been perfect. If only. Many in the audience loved it. Director Peter Amster calls the play "light entertainment for intelligent people." He holds it up to musicals like Gypsy, Kiss Me Kate, and A Chorus Line for its life-imitates-art-imitates-life theme. If you like an inane musical with a touch of '30s glamour and a whole lot of Americana globbed over it, you'll love it, too. I felt accosted by it. If the OSF is going to try staging musicals again, I suggest Artistic Director Libby Appel change her philosophy of using actors who can sing rather than singers who can act. Her excuse for the over-amplification was that the actors need to preserve their voices for other roles they are performing concurrently. Bringing in outside talent for musicals would help improve casting and minimize or eliminate altogether the need for microphones. Also, if musicals are in OSF's future, I hope Appel and company will choose shows with at least a modicum of depth.
I grew up in many arid places 4 Morocco, New Mexico, Los Angeles, many others. I lived six years in Reno to finish high school and my bachelor's degree at the University of Nevada. Reno gets a yearly average of six inches of rain. The rush of spring is revealed only by a pale greening of brown sage hillsides and the brief opening of delicate, minute flowers, barely visible at any distance. When I left Nevada for Oregon, I was coming for the rain, for the deep, dripping, fertile fecundity of this place, for the extravagant, explosive bloom of rhododendrons; for earth's eruptions of crocus, iris, daffodil; for the bursting treebloom of plum, cherry, apple; and for the grapes. Rain, water, and wine 4 here's a nexus as old as time. In the wine world, Oregon is called "cool country," blessed by moisture and sufficient sun to nurture and ripen grapes that yield some of the New World's finest wines. This is where I choose to live and work as a wine investigator. It's usually thankless work, but it offers some special rewards, particularly the cultivation of good friends and a rich life in one's interiors, of home and mind. Today, under this thick cascade, I pursued contacts, always seeking words for wine of value, the kind we can afford to drink in the course of everyday eating and drinking, the kind that enriches life without impoverishing it. Inside Sundance, dripping, I whip out pen and notebook, ready to scan shelves. At the counter stands a tallish man, thin, maybe late 40s, long wispy gray beard, poring over a wine wholesaler's book. I pause. A few quips, a little conversation, I learn he's a real collector, shopping for the great wines that most retailers can't shelve because they're so expensive few people can buy them. He learns what I'm doing, looking for vinos regular Joes and Janes can afford to put on the table. Guy urges me to recommend his favorite. I cringe, expecting some $80 Burgundy. Nope, he points to his everynight wine, Verget du Sud 1998 Vin de Pays du Vaucluse, $5.95! Buy it, test later, find flavors of black fruits, firm structure, a rustic complexity that seems defined by its place in the south of France. Big score, more to come. This is how wine contacts are really made. I also snag a bottle from a box marked "Sundance Staff Selection," Falesco 1999 Vitiano ($8.95) from Umbria, an Italian blend that pours deep purple, gives up flavors of blackberry, black cherry, hint of pepper, soft, ripe quaffable. Later, rain has changed to showers, to feathermist (Oregon rain word) as I slide into New Frontier on Broadway, survey a growing display of offerings that indicate work of experienced palates and sensitivity to the market. Check for Angus, he's out but Brian is behind the bar, sniffin', sippin' and spittin' with a wholesaler rep. Brian pushes a taster glass to me, a score, Bourgogne Rouge Roncevie 1999 ($21), a deep red Burgundy with flavor and character to rival much more expensive bottlings. Just lucky, I cross paths with Phil Kimmel, old friend, now a wine importer, mainly French. I tug his jacket. He knows what I'm after, clues to tasty vins of value my clients can afford. Phil glide-steps over to Chateau de Pannautier 1999 Cabardes ($9.99), a blend of Bordeaux (cabernet, merlot, cab franc) and Rhone (grenache, syrah, others) varietals, a "made" wine, in a maker's (Nicolas de Lorgeril) distinctive style. Phil says this is what he's drinking at home. Later, I see why: inky dark wine, black fruits, loads of lovely spices, delish, another bargain from the south of France. As I leave, a wind has turned feathermist to needlemist. I hurry home, sweetly anxious to open these blood-warming reds and stand with my love before the window to watch rivulets course down the glass, revealing again the unbearable affinity of water for water and rain for wine.
. |
