• Doro Tuch

Testament at On the Boards, by German performance collective She She Pop, made and performed with their septuagenarian fathers, is provoking strong personal reactions—just trying to parse and write about it has tied me up in knots for the past 48 hours.

The driest possible description: In Testament, the middle-aged performance artists and their fathers use King Lear as a springboard to talk about mortality and parent death, with some brutally frank and personal exploration of resentments between aging parents and their children.

Some of the reactions I've gotten via email from friends and colleagues in the past 48 hours:

The audience went quite crazy for the Germans at the On the Boards show Testament. People wouldn't let them leave the stage after a standing o and many in the audience were crying. Really wonderful - would love to talk to you about it.

I’m not sure what you made of it, but it’s feeling like a really significant piece. I still feel tender this morning.

I know you must be going. Please assure me that you are going? I was exhilarated and sobbed like never happens in the theater!

The performance left me embarrassingly weepy—but given some parent-death experience in my distant and recent past, I'm a sucker for that kind of a thing. Other friends I've talked with said they felt like the performance was overly manipulative and maudlin.

Yes, Testament is manipulative—unabashedly so. During one particularly emotional sequence, a performer slowly hoists up a white cloth that looks like a handkerchief, like they're daring you to not cry. The show knows it's fucking with your emotions, but it's fucking with them for good reasons—to explore facts that we all experience (or will, sooner or later) but rarely confront and discuss that honestly.

As performance, it feels like a sadomasochistic transaction: If you're receptive to its manipulations, and willing to subject yourself to the pain it wants to inflict, Testament is deeply exhausting and deeply rewarding.

Either way, Testament is provocative. I have yet to hear anyone say it left them feeling indifferent.

Find tickets and more information at the OtB website.

• Armen Stein

Last fall, local playwright Wayne Rawley gave us Live! From the Last Night of My Life, a gallows-humor roller-coaster ride through the mind of a young man as he works his final graveyard shift at a small-town gas station. At the beginning of the play, he announces he's decided to kill himself once his shift (and the play) is over. The kid is deeply bored and frustrated, but he's so full of bounce and vigor, it's hard to believe he's really going to do himself in.

The characters in Beating Up Bachman, Rawley's newest play (now running at West of Lenin) are cut from similar cloth—a little older, a little more haggard, and maybe a little too familiar with the dark sides of their psyches, but still brimming with energy and always ready for a brawl.

The play centers on the Trucker sisters, three tough, small-town broads facing a whirlwind of emotional and financial disasters: a death in the family, bankruptcy, the appearance of a vampiric ex-wife who wants custody of a child, and some inept, bumbling attempts at domestic violence. (Rawley, like Irish playwright Martin McDonagh, has a gift for writing the sillier side of brutal acts that would be horrifying in real life. And it helps, in the case of Bachman, that the female characters—including grumpy old mama Trucker—are ten times tougher than any of the men.)

Those various storms converge in the home of the eldest sister, Lisa Trucker (played as comically hard-nosed by Lisa Every) and her affably fatalistic, beer-swilling husband Ryan (Ryan Sanders). Their kitchen becomes a revolving door of tragedies, (large and small), schemes, and plots. Every character feels cheated by some other character, and they all feel cheated by life. (Ain't that family!)

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Yesterday, in my Slog review of the wet-noodle American Buffalo at Seattle Rep, I said that David Mamet's strange (and strangely public) mission to become a successful conservative playwright was "a stupid move by its very premise—powerful drama is not built on the conservative impulse to defend conventions."

Slog reader Mack Sullivan takes exception with my quick and lazy generalization:

Dear Mr. Kiley,

Yesterday you wrote on the Slog that "powerful drama is not built on the conservative impulse to defend conventions." ... surely this can't be right: what about Aeschylus' Oresteia, which culminates in (among other things) a powerful defense of Athenian tradition? I'm not a conservative, so it wouldn't bother me if you turned out to be right (in fact, it'd tickle me), but surely any generalization which makes Aeschylus bad drama is a bad generalization.

Sincerely,
Mack Sullivan

Good point, Mack.

I wasn't thinking about the Greeks, who lived in a slightly different universe when it came to their relationship between theater and the rest of life. But you're right: Aeschylus, Sophocles, and other Greeks wrote cautionary tales to defend conventions, the state, etc.

However! Those dramas were really built on deep, detailed descriptions of taboos being violated—upheaval porn.

They had to end with finger-wagging morals (don't do X or Y will happen), but that's not why we remember them. Their disruptions, violations, and rebellions ("you said what?" "you killed him?" "you fucked her?") are the good stuff, just like in Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, and other canonical stories that end with some obligatory tut-tutting about the restoration of order and normalcy.

American war movies (at least the iconic ones of the '70s and '80s) are in a similarly self-contradicting situation. Supposedly, they're about how "war is hell" and all that—but they aren't real arguments for pacifism or Switzerland-style neutrality. People go to see the guts, and revel in explosions. They're upheaval-porn, too.

So I'm not sure Aeschylus actually counts as a conservative playwright. But you make an interesting point, Mr. Sullivan.

Sincerely,
Brendan Kiley

Shoveling criticism at David Mamet has never been much of a challenge. On his best days, before he began his quixotically contrarian attempt to become the world's first successful conservative playwright (a stupid move by its very premise—powerful drama is not built on the conservative impulse to defend conventions), he reeked of misogyny, racism, superficiality, and all the weakness that white-male-hetero-American flesh is heir to.

• seattle rep
• Leggett and Atwies, two great actors in one inferior production.

But the motherfucker could write, in his own odd way, and gave a voice and style (with Chicago inflections) to a particular strain of ugliness that some people (understandably) would rather not delve into.

For those who had the stomach for that ugliness of pathetic white-male thuggery, Mamet was the go-to guy. (Though he was never a genius. Just compare him with Werner Herzog—another middle-aged white guy hypnotized by the intersection of power, violence [social and physical], and beauty, and you can see the difference between a mastermind and a guy who happened to knock out a couple of decent plays.)

American Buffalo was the passkey into small-time, double-crossing crooks in a junk shop. Glengarry Glen Ross was the passkey into puny salesman who dreamed of being important. (I'd submit that anyone who's curious about what makes Donald Trump tick, and what drives any rich man—who has the means to live in quiet leisure for the rest of his life—charge into the public spotlight, making himself look more foolish every time, only needs to read Glengarry Glen Ross. For these guys, money is only the means to an end. The end is feeling important. If they have all the money, but still don't feel important enough, they'll pull increasingly stupid stunts to scratch that itch.)

At any rate, American Buffalo at the Seattle Rep looked great on paper—promising script, actors Charles Leggett and Hans Altwies (both Stranger Genius Award short-listers who can both command a room with a mere gesture) in the leads, a big stage to play with, and director Milam Wilson (who helmed another masterpiece of masculine fucked-upedness with The Seafarer at Seattle Rep in 2009).

But somehow, with all that potential and all that talent, the production was as limp as a wet noodle. I'm confounded about why.

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Last night, a large crowd gathered at Seattle Repertory Theater to memorialize/celebrate the life of Andrea Allen.

Most of the folks in attendance were theater people, from her early years as artistic director of Annex Theater to her recent Seattle Rep years, and some family members, including her mother and brothers who'd flown out from the east coast. In his opening remarks, Fr. Jack Bentz—a Jesuit priest and friend of the Seattle theater community—observed that grief is an intensely personal thing and that it was both courageous and generous of Andrea's family and close friends to invite in the larger theater community for an evening.

Playwright Keri Healey wrote a moving tribute to Andrea for the evening's program, crediting her with being a decades-long friend and champion, and a source of early encouragement and critique when she first began to write plays.

That theme kept returning last night: Though Andrea wasn't a hugely public person who craved the spotlight, she nurtured and supported many, many theater talents in Seattle, from the high-school playwrights she has taught to the professional playwrights, directors, and actors who were at the Rep last night.

And, based on things people said from the stage, Andrea's style of nurturing was lovingly tough. A fellow teacher read a few emails Andrea had written over the years to her student-playwrights. One of her recurring pieces of advice: "Nail your butt to your seat, set a timer, and start writing. I can't help you if you don't start writing. Who loves you? I do."

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According to the NYT, the musical—with book and lyrics by Kathie Lee Gifford and directed by David Armstrong of the 5th Ave—closed after 31 preview performances and 29 regular ones:

The show opened on Nov. 15 to largely negative reviews, although several critics praised the lead performance of Carolee Carmello as the early 20th century evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson...

Box office sales have been weak from the start for “Scandalous,” so much so that two of its producers, Dick and Betsy DeVos, of the Amway family fortune, agreed last week to underwrite the show’s financial losses after its standard financial reserve had been depleted. The show, which cost about $9 million to mount on Broadway, will close at a financial loss.

Goldy might have seen that coming—he called the show an "overlong, superficial disappointment" when it played at the 5th Ave last year.

Sorry your musical didn't work out, Kathie Lee. But you're still a hell of a lunch date.

Earlier this month, beloved local theater artist and educator Andrea Allen passed away. Tonight at 6 pm, the Rep will host a celebration of her life and legacy. It's open to the public, and attendees are encouraged to bring something to share at the reception.

In lieu of flowers, the Allen and Smucker families are encouraging donations to the Andrea Allen Memorial College Fund at any branch of US Bank, to support the college aspirations of her young twin boys, as well as contributions to Seattle Repertory Theater.

Intiman pulled off its summer comeback of 2012 with four plays and a single team of actors and designers. The question afterwards: Was that experiment successful enough to replicate? The answer: Yes. Intiman just announced its 2013 summer series, built on the same model.

The shows are:

Trouble In Mind – An integrated acting company in 1957 comes together to rehearse a new play in Alice Childress' groundbreaking comedy-drama of race and representation in the American theatre. Directed by Valerie Curtis-Newton (Intiman’s All My Sons and Dirty Story).

Lysistrata: Aristophanes’ story of women who withhold sex from their husbands in an effort to stop war, directed by Sheila Daniels (Intiman’s Crime and Punishment, A Streetcar Named Desire, and Abe Lincoln in Illinois).

Stu for Silverton: A new musical about the mayor of Silverton, Oregon – the unlikely and surprising story of America's first transgender mayor and his community – with book by Peter Duchan, music and lyrics by Breedlove, directed by Artistic Director Andrew Russell.

We Won’t Pay! We Won’t Pay! – Nobel Prize winner Dario Fo at his funniest and most socially relevant in this laugh out loud farce about money, class, and the resiliency of the human spirit. Directed by the queen of clowning and physical theatre, Jane Nichols.

I remember talking to Russell when he was gearing up for the 2012 summer, but just about to go to NYC for a workshop/reading of Stu for Silverton. He was blown away by the story of a 2.7 square-mile town, which wasn't especially known for being cosmopolitan, rallying behind its hometown trans mayor—and one time chasing Fred Phelps's Westboro hate-rodeo out of their community. Apparently, the pro-mayor counter-rally featured families and local guys wearing skirts with their boots. (Silverton is also home to the heroic Bobby the Wonder Dog, who walked from Indiana back to his family's house in Oregon after they got separated on a road trip. It sounds like a hell of a town.)

In other theater news, Hannah Victoria Franklin (who was part of Intiman's summer ensemble) has been anointed as the first managing director of Washington Ensemble Theater. She used to be their administrative director but it sounds like she'll now be responsible for more big-picture finance and fundraising stuff. From their press release:

“The Board and I are delighted to have Hannah as our first Managing Director; during her tenure as Administrative Director, Hannah has been instrumental in strengthening the company, implementing improvements to our ticketing process, bookkeeping procedures, and supporter records, as well as being the company’s main contact with the community. As we move towards our new home in Capitol Hill Housing’s 12th Avenue Arts Building, Hannah’s skills, enthusiasm and dedication to the company will be invaluable,” said Susan Davis, Board President.

Congratulations to Intiman and Hannah. Onward and upward.

Tonight, I'm heading down to On the Boards to see Amarillo, about a man who tries to cross the border-desert from Mexico to the US and disappears into a visionary, perhaps fatal, experience. A big wall—the wall, the border fence—dominates the stage and becomes a projection surface and something to bounce off of, both literally and metaphorically.

The show is said to be part theater and part movement, dreamy and poetic, its hallucinatory elements all built with plastic bags, sand, water, and other materials that dominate the borderland. Here's a video trailer:

Amarillo from Mauricio Talamantes on Vimeo.

I had an email interview with the director, Jorge Arturo Vargas Cortez, about the show's themes of disappearance and the border fence/wall, that is a kind of way to "disappear" people. As I said to him, the fortified border is like a person closing her eyes and pretending that the things she can't see don't exist.

"I cannot adequately respond to your question," he wrote back, "because my view is from south to north. But it’s probably as you say. This topic is not on any of the political platforms at this time of elections. At least nothing like a clear stand against the reality of the wall. Maybe because it affects electoral strategies. But the decisions or indecisions about it will probably cost lives. What I believe: If the politicians close their eyes to this reality because it suits them, we must not close ours and must confront the complexity of the problem."

My rough translation of the interview is below the jump. (The first part of the interview, anyway—we also had a whole exchange about "political theater" in the US and Mexico that I haven't translated yet.)

Because my Spanish is far from fluent, and the translation will certainly have mistakes, I also posted his original responses in Spanish. If any Spanish-speaking Sloggers spot errors and want to flag them in the comments, I'll fix them up.

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• Langs (right) directing Charles Leggett and Darragh Kennan in "The Dumb Waiter."

John Langs is one of my favorite working directors. As I wrote in this week's Suggests for Antony and Cleopatra, his imagination simultaneously sharpens and embellishes whatever play he directs. He is both smart and visceral and has a talent for trimming away fat while teasing out and adding to themes—visual, textual—that most directors would let sit in the background.

Some directors overladen their plays with concepts and crap. Some directors bring too little to the text, leaving everyone unsatisfied. John Langs usually gets it just right. (A few reviews from our archives, of classic works and world premieres: Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet at Seattle Shakespeare Company, The Adding Machine by New Century Theater Company, Crumbs Are Also Bread at WET, The Dumb Waiter and Celebration as part of ACT's Pinter festival, Paul Mullin's Louis Slotin Sonata at Empty Space.)

Langs has had a heavy presence in Seattle, but he hasn't lived here—until now. This morning, ACT Theater announced it had coaxed him out of Los Angeles and hired him on as a full-time associate artistic director (a position that has been vacant since Kurt Beattie left it to become full artistic director). According to the announcement, Langs will direct one mainstage play a year, help curate their Central Heating Lab program, assist in new play development, etc.

ACT says Langs will continue to direct at other theaters and in other cities—his talent is in demand—but hiring him full-time is a smart move, both for the present and Langs's promising future.

Available for a few hours of daytime work during the week? Give a care about theater and dance? Not a flake?

Send me an email and tell me a bit about yourself and your weekday availability. Or give me a call: 206-323-7101.

Most of the job entails helping me build each week's performance calendar (important attributes: accuracy, reading comprehension) and will probably involve helping me research news and feature stories that could be about anything under the sun (important attributes: tenacity, bravery in the face of user-unfriendly databases, possession of a library card).

I just asked music intern Sean Jewell the most important quality in a prospective Stranger intern. "Independence," he said. "You guys are so busy. You just have to show up and start in. That's the thing that surprised me the most."