Mark Morris and the Joy of Dance

I'm going to be lazy like a true blogger and just "ditto" WaPo dance writer Sarah Kaufman's heartfelt and eloquent review of the Mark Morris Dance Company's recent run at the Kennedy Center.

link: Under Mark Morris, Handel oratorio becomes a visual feast

She writes:

Agreed: Mirth, with thee I mean to live.

The chorus sings these words at the exultant finish of Mark Morris’s “L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato,” which transforms the Handel oratorio into a visual feast with the happiest dancing you could hope to see. And as you watch the dancers join hands and circle the Kennedy Center Opera House stage, the whole cast whirling in a spin-cycle of physical joy, living by that sentiment feels entirely possible.

Was it raining yesterday? Hardly noticed. “L’Allegro” was still turning in my mind.

Here is the official Mark Morris featurette about the production:

My own response to the production last Thursday night was not as learned as Kaufman's; I just knew that I'd wanted to see a Mark Morris production for the longest time and was very happy that one finally came to the Kennedy Center (a bit more accessible to me on a weeknight than the venue at George Mason out in Virginia).

My first exposure to Morris was his gender-bending take on that old chestnut Nutcracker, The Hard Nut. Male snowflakes? Yikes! But what fun.

And "L'Allegro" had equal numbers of boys and girls, and equal opportunity pairings (and trio-ings) that ensured that joy was accessible to all.

As an audience member, I will say that I enjoyed the second half a bit more than the first half, simply because the group in the front row of the balcony with two very fidgety young girls did not return after intermission.

During intermission I also chatted amiably with the two men next to me who, like me, were very anxious to see the Mark Morris work. We all agreed that the Rothko-esque set design was very effective in framing the planes of the scenes of the dance. And personally, I think the world would be a better place if everybody dressed like dancers.

I know that in such a gifted ensemble it may not be fair to single any one dancer out, but my favorite boy was the guy in blue who had one of the bird solos. Just loved him, and my eye then went to him in every group. Going by the pictures in the program, I'll guess this was Dallas McMurray (if I got the casting wrong, please forgive my distance in the second tier and my notoriously unreliable facial recognition capabilities).

The final scene, as Kaufman describes:

Then: Brightness. Order springs from disorder, and it’s wonderfully simple. A chain of hands, dancers wheeling in circles within circles. They lean into the music, and fast as they’re spinning, you can’t miss the delight on their faces. It’s sweet surrender. And victory for all.

... brought the entire house to its feet for one of the longest sustained standing ovations I've experienced at the Kennedy Center, and particularly energetic for a Thursday night. A happy time was had by all!

Ungentlemanly in Verona

If you're heading out to see the Shakespeare Theatre's latest production of Two Gentlemen of Verona, first of all, lucky you! This modern-day adaptation (retaining the language) of Shakespeare's early romantic comedy is breathtakingly energetic.

A warning, though, it is violent. Not quite Stacy Keach King Lear violent, but heads are hit and blood is shed. So much so that my friend and I both were wishing the two gentlemen would wipe their faces before taking their bows at the end.

I confess that, during Sunday's IDR, I took great pleasure in watching these two really great-looking gentlemen: Andrew Veenstra as Valentine (who also served as the fight captain) and Nick Dillenburg as Proteus. Another familiar face was that of Euan Morton as the servant/dog lover Launce.

I last saw the handsome Veenstra in Shakespeare Theatre's production of The Heir Apparent, and the versatile Morton in Ford Theatre's production of Parade last fall.

Note, don't be confused by the rock opera version of Two Gentlemen, which is also scheduled for later this month at Sidney Harman Hall. The gentlemen of whom I write now are appearing at the Lansburgh.


Two Gentlemen of Verona (aka Two Gents) cast picture, courtesy of The Shakespeare Theatre

The Two Gentlemen of Verona
directed by P. J. Paparelli
set design by Walt Sangler
Costume design by Paul Spadone

Cast
Valentine: Andrew Veenstra
Speed: Adam Green
Proteus: Nick Dillenburg
Launce: Euan Morton
Crab (his dog): Olliver
Antonio: Christopher McHale
Panthino: Stephen Patrick Martin
Julia: Miriam Silverman
Lucetta: Inga Ballard
Duke of Milan: Brent Harris
Silvia: Natalie Mitchell
Thurio: Gene Gillette
Eglamour: Todd Scofield

View this post on the Shakespeare Readers blog.

Itzhak Perlman, conductor and violin

Back from seeing (and hearing) Itzhak Perlman at Strathmore, along with a completely packed full house. My friend, who knows much more about music than I do and is more particular about where to sit, could only score the second to last row of the orchestra, which is saying something about what it meant to see the master: Bring binoculars.

Well, my friend forgot her binoculars, which isn't surprising, because she'd nearly forgotten the tickets. Or at least the one extra ticket that I'd already paid her for; somehow it got separated from her own ticket. She did find it, but accidentally tore it; she's a season subscriber to the Strathmore, though, so they were willing to replace the torn ticket at the box office.

My point in relaying this adventure is to demonstrate that, though she knows more about classical music than I do, and is as committed to her season subscription at Strathmore as I am to my Round House and Shakespeare and American Ballet Theater (when they come to town), there wasn't much enlightenment from her on what I was to expect tonight. Did I want to see Itzhak Perlman? Sure.

But it didn't occur to me that he wouldn't be playing the violin for the entire evening. After the two Vivaldi Seasons (Winter and Summer), which Mr. Perlman conducted as he bowed, he returned exclusively to conduct the Mozart (Symphony No. 25 in G Minor, K. 183) and the Brahms (Symphony No. 4 in E Minor, Opus 98).

The conducting was impeccable, but I wanted to watch more than Mr. Perlman's back. So I resorted to my usual approach to enjoying a symphony: visualizing it as dance. This was especially fruitful in the Brahms, whose opening calls of horns took me to the hunt; in the melancholy second movement, we are dragging our weary horses and hounds back home; the bright third movement, with its undertones of turmoil, is a celebratory ball; and the powerful fourth movement is a confrontation between the young revolutionary and his betrothed's father, stalwartly defending the old order.

But my friend, who knows more about classical music than I do (but who had to be nudged from her nodding drowsiness a couple of times. Ahem), didn't especially care for the Brahms. Different strokes, I guess.

And interestingly, she kept trying to point out someone in the orchestra who would be of interest to me:

Friend: "The guy sitting right on the other side of Itzhak. He looks like Clay Aiken."

Me (peering through my binoculars): "You mean the one who looks like [a young] Lyle Lovett?"

Friend (borrowing my binoculars): "Oh. Heh."

Catch-up and Updates

Gee, whatever happened to December? Below the fold is my Holiday/Christmas letter to the family.

Somehow I missed posting my recap of Round House Theatre's Pride and Prejudice. It was great fun, despite the Washington Post's predictably negative review. It was set in a whimsical toy box whose trim cabinets reveal changes of scenery that, except for the decor in the interiors, weren't all that different. The ladies also wore strikingly similar gowns (my friend thought they looked too much like nightgowns), making some of the characters hard to distinguish. (Not all sisters are that interchangeable.)

What I really enjoyed was the swift pacing through the domestic and romantic joyrides and the genuine catch of tears brought on by self-awareness when Elizabeth realizes her prejudice against Darcy was unfounded.

I also took another visit to the National Museum of Women in the Arts, with my same Pride and Prejudice friend. It was fun to finally show off some of my favorite venues (RHT and NMWA) with someone else besides my dear readers here!

I got a second chance to snap some of my favorite pieces in the collection:

Four Seated Figures, 2002, by Magdalena Abakanowicz (Polish, b. 1930)

Carrie Pease Graham, 1895, by Elisabet Ney (German, 1833-1907), with Mary Cassatt's Portrait of Katherine Cassatt, 1905, in the background)

Photographs by Louise Dahl-Wolfe (American, 1895-1989)

But in the exhibit of Asian-inspired art, where I fell in love with a new artist, no photography was allowed. Fortunately, there was a book! But unfortunately, I didn't do a very good job of scanning the picture. Anyway, I share with you the lovely work of Lilian May Miller, and her Monet haystacks-inspired Fujiyama:

Moonlight and Sunrise (respectively) at Fujiyama, Japan (both 1928), lovingly photographed from the book Between Two Worlds: The Life and Art of Lilian May Miller by Kendall H. Brown (exhibition catalog published by Pacific Asia Museum, Pasadena, 1998). Note, I bought the book at the NMWA gift shop. It's not available via Amazon, but I found it at Alibris.

Part of the joy of the outing back to NMWA, which happened the day after Thanksgiving, was continuing my chase of the ginkgo. I had been seeing ginkgo leaves throughout Bethesda this fall, but as far as I could find, there were no ginkgo trees in my neighborhood. I knew there were ginkgoes downtown, and sure enough, there they were around Metro Center, their bright yellow fans aglow in the autumn noon.

And finally, just because I like it, the Art Deco (former) bus station on New York Avenue:

All photos by C. G. Wagner. Fair use principles apply: please give credit!

FOLD (below which, my annual holiday letter to the family)

DECEMBER 2011

GREETINGS from the beginning of a cold and damp holiday season! I hope you are warm, snug, and filled with good cheer.

This year found me wandering very little beyond my own neighborhood, and the 10-block walk between apartment and office was my principal means of exercise. Work kept me pretty busy in my new role as editor of THE FUTURIST. In January, I got to meet with the former Haitian ambassador, who brought a small contingent of supporters to our office on the anniversary of the devastating earthquake. They had come to the World Future Society seeking support for rebuilding their nation, which was at that time nervously awaiting a presidential-election runoff. It was humbling to be asked for such support and it helped us to be able to articulate our own mission as an organization.

Another interesting byproduct of my new position was that I was invited to be interviewed for the Grinnell alumni magazine--again, an opportunity to clarify what futurists do and why. (And why I, who am so risk-averse and change-resistant, am somehow the voice of futurism! Hee!)

And if this wasn’t enough “greatness” thrust upon me, I was also asked to take over the leadership of my Shakespeare Readers group! In an effort to increase membership, I’ve reached out to other Shakespeare fans on a MeetUp group and created an official Shakespeare Readers blog: shakespearereaders.blogspot.com.

The only traveling I did this year was—as usual—either work or Clay related. The annual WFS conference was in Vancouver in July, and fortunately I was able to get out and see the neighborhood around our hotel a little bit. It’s a beautiful city, which I hadn’t seen since the World’s Fair in 1986.

The Clay Aiken trip of the year was out to Texas in March, where I got to visit with friends Chris, Debbie, Sheila, Jill, Mary, and Gary, along with an assortment of other ladies I’ve met at other concerts over the years. Much fun!

And yes, I finally did get to meet the man himself, fleetingly, at the meet-and-greet event in Towson, Maryland! With more than 40 fans there, herded along brusquely to get our pictures snapped with Clay, the event was more aptly described as a meet-and-moo. But Clay was in beautiful voice that night and turned the technical mishaps (lighting miscues and strange audio set-up) into high comedy.

Speaking of meet-and-greets, I got to see my favorite jazz singer, Nnenna Freelon, twice this year (well, the first time was New Year’s Eve last year), and also American Ballet Theater featured dancer Daniil Simkin, who had a slightly smaller crowd competing for his attention than Clay did.

I’ve continued to enjoy the productions at Round House and Ford’s theaters and the Strathmore Music Center. A very special outing to Ford’s in April was the rollicking musical Liberty Smith, which was all the more fun for sharing the experience with my brother Mike and sister-in-law Wanda and my cousin Bob and his wife Mary. During their visit we also got to do some “typical tourist” stuff, enjoying the cherry blossoms, museums, memorials, and monuments. And, of course, the D.C. parking challenge.

I spent Thanksgiving with good friends Suzanne and David Waters, who have treated me to so many Sunday dinners that I decided to splurge and take them to one of my favorite “family” restaurants, Ruth’s Chris. Yummo!

My New Year’s resolution is to finally get my apartment into visitor-friendly condition. So ya’ll come on down! (But hey, please call first!)

[End of letter]

I haven't monetized this blog yet, and I receive no royalties, commissions, or kickbacks from anything I mention here. But since I am particularly proud of the photography calendar I made for 2012, I'll include a link to it on Snapfish. You need to have an account at Snapfish to view, but you'll be able to customize and order it if you like:

2012 Calendar: Photography by C. G. Wagner

Maybe next year I'll figure out how to monetize. Till then, enjoy!

Autumn in Bethesda

Just a few pix. Click to enlarge.

Credit all: C. G. Wagner

After a storm:

Setting sun on autumn leaves:

Morning illumination:

and the new public art installation at Union Hardware:

ReEntering Unreality

Back from Round House's production last night of ReEntry by Emily Ackerman and KJ Sanchez, a powerful piece on the trauma of returning "home" from war. And "home" is a tricky term; to a Marine, "home" is the Corps, whereas family and the complacency of people bitching about who's on Dancing with the Stars is the surreal unreality.

The staging of interwoven monologues is not my favorite dramaturgical choice (see also The Carpetbagger's Children, for instance). The characters--a mom, a sister, their two sons/brothers, a C.O., and others portrayed by the five actors--were built from interviews, so the reality was embedded. But the lack of interaction between the characters is a step away from the reality (or simulation of reality) in witnessing human relationships in real time. Add the actory voices, and it seems too unreal.

Even the chin-mikes to allow the actors to be heard by the audience without straining their voices was a check on reality to me. And because there's the phenomenon known in science--that the act of observing alters the experiment--I didn't get a sense of what the real reality would be for these characters after they stopped talking to the interviewers recording their stories.

Still, there was a lot to this very strong production. I could relate to the idea of children going to war when the C.O. talked about what he tells parents who are sending their children into this real danger just after they've graduated from high school. I thought of myself at 18 dealing with something like the wars in Iraq or Afghanistan. I wouldn't have had a clue what that reality would do to me.

[SPOILER ALERT]

And despite the lack of interaction between the characters, there was real poignance to the stories they told about each other. The sister, of course, I could relate to. She speaks at the end of how her brother told her to stay put in her apartment if "shit comes down" again like 9/11, and he would beat a path of destruction to her door to evac her. Any sister of any brother would want to hear just that, and probably has heard it more than she even can remember.

Cast:
Liz (sister)/Suzanne: Jessi Blue Gormezano
John (older son/brother)/Pete: Brandon Jones
Mom/Maria: Sameerah Luqmaan-Harris
C.O.: Larry Mitchell
Charlie (younger son/brother)/Tommy: Ben Rosenblatt

Directed by KJ Sanchez.
Plays at the Round House Theatre, Bethesda, Maryland, through October 30.

Musical of Our Discontent

credit: Deen Van Meer, Kennedy Center

Back from Les Miz 2.0, the 25th anniversary full-scale re-thinking of the 1985 amazingness. I wasn't really sure I wanted to see this, since the 1985 KenCen pre-Broadway run was so indelible, but they promised this one would be good, and it certainly erased the memory of the tacky road-show version that carried on at the National a few years ago.

It is critical that I be induced to weep during the First Act Finale ("One Day More"), and the fact is, with this show, I began weeping when the priest brings Jean Valjean into his home--"have a seat, have some wine"--the first act of human kindness extended to the villainous bread thief Valjean after 19 years of captivity. This is even before the priest pays it forward by not turning him in to Javert for stealing the silver. Why didn't I bring tissues? Anyway, the cathartic requirement of theater was amply met.

I'm a little dim on French history, but I believe this takes place after the big Revolution. People are still jobless and desperate, discontented with the wealthy.

Which is pretty much where we are today. It's hard not to notice the similarities between Marius and his compatriots and the Occupiers of Wall Streets around the world just now. What they also have in common, in my mind, is the lack of a clear goal and strategy for achieving it. So far in the twenty-first-century version, at least the disobedience and protests have been largely civil.

Back to the show.... The other similarity I was struck by was to West Side Story (aka Romeo and Juliet), even so far as the staging of the lovers' first rendezvous o'er garden walls and under balconies. And of course the grand Act One Finale that weaves the threads of character and melodic themes into one magical tapestry of urgency, to get through the line at the restroom and back in your seat to see how it all turns out in Act Two.

Dissimilarities to the original production in 1985: Well, you don't have Colm Wilkinson, Frances Ruffelle, or Patti LuPone. The 2011 Valjean, J. Mark McVey, is an indomitable presence, but his delivery was more theatrical than Wilkinson's; that is, the lines were acted as much as sung. I'm trying to say this without judgment; different is just different. Wilkinson's voice had as much power as tenderness and created a purer characterization of Valjean.

The biggest dissimilarity among the actors was in Eponine, portrayed in the original by the heartbreakingly waifish Ruffelle and in the 2011 version by Chasten Harmon, far too sultry and womanly to be a waif (the character references Anybodys from West Side Story). She's more of a Spamalot Lady of the Lake, wondering what ever happened to her part.

The bottom line: I and my fellow standing-ovation-givers give the production an A. But I didn't get the cast recording. I have the cast recording.

A side note: the bio in the program for Cameron MacIntosh, the show's producer, made me smile. It reads, in its entirety:

Cameron MacIntosh (Producer) produces musicals.