A Tale of Two Plays

Slightly behind in my recapping enables me to bring two current productions together: A Tale of Two Cities performed at Synetic Theater and NSFW performed at Round House Theatre.

Coincidentally, the term NSFW was just added to Merriam-Webster's dictionary, which defines it as "not safe for work" (meaning, if you're e-mailed a link or attachment so labeled, don't open it at the office).

In the RHT production, the term is expanded to "not safe for women," meaning workplaces such as playwright Lucy Kirkwood's two fictional commercial magazine offices, Doghouse and Electra, that sexualize, objectify, exploit, and manipulate images of women. While I could relate a bit to the young woman working at Doghouse (she needs the work), there are compromises and comeuppances in this story that I just don't get. (Thank goodness for noncommercial journalism, right?)

In a way, exploitation and objectification of female imagery is also what the drag queen Jerry (Alex Mills) does at Synetic's Tale, in an adaptation originated by Everett Quinton. Jerry entertains an irrationally inserted baby in his apartment (Vato Tsikurishvili as Dorian the baby) as he prepares to perform his act.

Alex Mills (Jerry) and Vato Tsikurishvili (Dorian), A Tale of Two Cities. Synetic Theater

The parallels between Jerry's primping for his act and Electra editor Miranda's (Deborah Hazlett) primping for a night out were astonishing. (No production photos for NSFW up yet, but if you see both shows, you'll see what I mean.)

Alex Mills, A Tale of Two Cities, Synetic Theater

Alex Mills, A Tale of Two Cities, Synetic Theater

The lesson is clear to me: 'Tis a far, far better self-actualization when you take control over your own life, work, image, sexuality, and self-expression.

Love, hosaa
safe for work

A Tale of Two Cities
Synetic Theater (1800 South Bell Street, Crystal City, VA 22202)
May 13 through June 21, 2015

NSFW
Round House Theatre (4545 East-West Highway, Bethesda, MD 20814)
May 27 through June 21, 2015

Much Ado about No Shakespeare

Back from yesterday's matinee performance of Much Ado About Nothing at Synetic Theater in Crystal City. This was the 11th of Synetic's renowned wordless (not silent) Shakespeare productions, an oxymoron that produces varied reactions (not unlike those when revealing that one is a Clay Aiken fan), ranging from bemused condescension to moral outrage.

Ben Cunis as Benedick and Irina Tsikurishvili as Beatrice. Program art for Much Ado About Nothing, Synetic Theater.

Shakespeare, of course, offered the world more than poetry, and the gift of the Synetic approach is that it winkles out the subtleties of character development and the nuances of situation comedy--and tragedy--that is also all Shakespeare. A wordless theatrical production of Shakespeare is every bit as legitimate as the Prokofiev Romeo and Juliet or the Mendelssohn Midsummer Night's Dream, and music and dance are among my favorite tools in the artistic toy box.

It's interesting that a lot of the updates of spoken Ado are set in the black-white-silvery worlds of Art Deco, leaving all color to the language, whereas the text-free Synetic production is all color and movement and music. Set in Fifties-era Las Vegas, with showgirls and motorcycle gangs (wearing "Syneticon" gang leather jackets), this Ado drives a harsher wedge between light and dark, farce and ferocity, through sheer physical power--not just the athleticism of the dance and pantomime, but also the attention given to details in props, costumes, lights, and music. All senses are on alert and fully, energetically engaged.

There is, appropriately, a parental advisory on this production, which goes a bit beyond the bard's usual bawdy humor: "This production is recommended for ages 14+ for some drug use and stylized sexual content." It's not for those squeamish about hypodermic needles, either.

Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare
Synetic Theater (1800 South Bell Street, Crystal City, Virginia 22202), through March 22, 2015
Directed by Paata Tsikurishvili, choreographed by Irina Tsikurishvili

Three Men in a Book

... not to mention the boat, the dog, and an aggressively polite cat.

I fell a little behind in my recaps, what with work and life and all.

Step into the not-very-way-back machine to June 8: On the final day of the production, I got to see Synetic Theater's nifty little rendition of one of my favorite Wodehouse precursors, Jerome K. Jerome's Three Men in a Boat (subtitled To say nothing of the Dog!). As you can see from searching Amazon, there a few different editions of the 1889 classic; the one I have features a cover illustration by Alan Aldridge (who also seems to have designed the Hard Rock Cafe logo, among other achievements):

But I digress. Of course, the point of the story is digression. The narrator, "J," tells of the dire need he and his friends have to take a vacation from their hard working Victorian lives in the city. They take a boat trip on the Thames, a few days' adventure, the telling of which wouldn't normally last the 184 pages allowed in this Penguin edition with small type and narrow margins. So the narrator casts a line out and fishes in a number of tales from similar adventures in his and his friends' past experience.

It's a wonderful parlor story, told in a parlor; in the Synetic version (with a cast led by my favorite local farcemeister, Tom Story), the parlor furniture served amiably as boat and landscape, with a hint of the outdoors projected delicately onto a screen background. And when the story lay down for the night, the stage darkened under the glow of stars covering the entire audience.

My friend who is a Synetic subscriber and enthusiast was a little put off by all the dialogue of our three men and their dog. Synetic is known as the dance-and-movement company, and even Shakespeare's immortal text is lovingly elbowed aside for the alternative language of gesture. Why was Jerome's language so necessary when Shakespeare's could be abandoned?

It's probably because there wasn't much else to recommend the story itself. It's a series of amusing anecdotes without much in the way of higher passions and tragedies beyond the legends of the transporting of cheese, a prize fish caught by innumerable local fishermen, and of course the good dog Montmorency's encounter with a tom cat.

I was very happy that this latter anecdote was not excised from Synetic's production and that it was our Tom who enacted the part of the tom cat. Here is but a brief excerpt from the book:

I never saw a larger cat, nor a more disreputable-looking cat. It had lost half its tail, one of its ears, and a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose. It was a long, sinewy-looking animal. It had a calm, contended air about it.

Montmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of twenty miles an hour; but the cat did not hurry up--did not seem to have grasped the idea that its life was in danger. It trotted quietly on until its would-be assassin was within a yard of it, and then it turned round and sat down in the middle of the road, and looked at Montmorency with a gentle, inquiring expression that said:

"Yes! You want me?"

Montmorency does not lack pluck; but there was something about the look of that cat that might have chilled the heart of the boldest dog. He stopped abruptly, and looked back at Tom.

Neither spoke; but the conversation that one could imagine was clearly as follows:

The Cat: "Can I do anything for you?"

Montmorency: "No--no, thanks."

The Cat: "Don't you mind speaking, if you really want anything, you know."

Montmorency (backing down the High Street): "Oh, no--not at all--certainly--don't trouble. I--I am afraid I've made a mistake. I thought I knew you. Sorry I disturbed you."

The Cat: "Not at all--quite a pleasure. Sure you don't want anything, now?"

Montmorency (still backing): "Not at all, thanks--not at all--very kind of you. Good morning."

The Cat: "Good morning."

Then the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what he calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up an unimportant position in the rear.

To this day, if you say the word "Cats!" to Montmorency, he will visibly shrink and look up piteously at you, as if to say:

"Please, don't."

Tom Story as Jerome (and the Cat); Alex Mills as Montmorency. Photo by Koko Lanham, ShowBizRadio.com

Sweet gallery of photos from this production by Koko Lanham at ShowBizRadio.com.

Clowning Around with Shakespeare

I can't take credit for "discovering" the Synetic Theater - it's been recommended to me, repeatedly, by my Shakespeare Explorer friends. Still, it's a great pleasure to discover a new troupe, a new venue, and a new way of looking at Shakespeare.

The current production of Twelfth Night is virtually wordless, as that is Synetic's approach to making theater: extracting from text the language of gesture. It's dance, it's mime, it's slapstick, and everybody's a clown.

All images lovingly borrowed from Synetic Theater's Web site.

How to stage a storm at sea and subsequent shipwreck.

So this begs the question, What would Shakespeare think? The Bard, it seems, has been abandoned. Where is the poetry? Where is the word play? Where is that lilt of language that sings stories to fill our hearts and expand our minds?

Here's where someone should throw a pie in my face. Artists don't just create art. They inspire it.

Any theater company that values dance will have my heart, and Synetic used every theatrically useful physical trick in the book to tell the story of the brother and sister separated at sea and thrown separately onto an alien shore. The gender-bending farce (girl dressed as boy meets boy in love with another girl and must woo her on his behalf... Ack, I'm confused) cannot be more ridiculous. And the loss and ultimate recovery of the brother and sister cannot be more heart-swelling.

But all in a tale told by clowns! Even the darling heroine Viola (choreographed and performed by Irina Tsikurishvili) transformed herself into the ultimate clown of modern times, Charlie Chaplin's Little Tramp. She could not have been more adorable!

Kathy Gordon as Olivia (l), Irina Tsikurishvili as Viola

Philip Fletcher as Orsino, with Irina Tsikurishvili

Twelfth Night poster art, Synetic Theater

So, since my point is that the words don't make the play, I leave off with a strong recommendation for this production and the company's own video trailer.

Love, hosaa
gesturing mad approval