Necessary Rivalry

David Selby as Abraham Lincoln and Craig Wallace as Frederick Douglass in the Ford’s Theatre world premiere production of “Necessary Sacrifices,” directed by Jennifer L. Nelson. Photo by T. Charles Erickson.

Back from my traditional Sunday Matinee in February at Ford's trip, this year to see Necessary Sacrifices, starring David Selby (reprising his Lincoln from Ford's acclaimed Heavens Are Hung in Black) and Craig Wallace as Frederick Douglass (last seen at Ford's in Sabrina Fair).

I loved the familiarity of these two actors, even though Wallace had evidently been a last minute replacement. There's something special about seeing an artist try new things. In this case, Selby was honing the characterization he'd earlier applied in Heavens, playing Lincoln as increasingly contorted by pain and struggling for physical strength to match his moral strength.

With so much physicality going on in Selby's performance, it was a good thing that Wallace was probably more focused on his lines--it would have been too distracting if he'd been doing the same kind of dance that Selby's Lincoln was.

The language is complicated because the ideas are complex. I had the same feeling about The Rivalry, Ford's 2010 staging of the legendary debates between Lincoln and the other Douglas, Stephen. The staging in that case was very similar to that of Frayn's Copenhagen, as the characters orbited and echoed and challenged each other with gestures minimized.

The complexity of the issues that our Lincoln and Douglass were struggling with required them to challenge each other, and to admit that they are both human, both subject to heartbreak and humiliation, pride and blind spots. Though they would agree that the Civil War was ultimately about abolition, the actual execution of that goal was never so simple as saying "you're free." (Freedom without security was as much a threat to the black man as the loss of "property" that this freedom meant was to the confederates.)

There were a couple of times when I thought I saw the actors glimpse up at the President's box to catch a nod or grimace from that lingering, tormented soul. Maybe it was just me.

Even though Ford's is abandoning some of its past theatrical choices (no more Hot Mikado, I gather), I always feel the presence of my "Jeeves" in this very special space. Edward Duke told me that Sunday matinees were always the "worst houses." So when I say there was a rousing standing ovation for Selby and Wallace, I like to think Lincoln wasn't the only ghost smiling.

Tall Men Never Slouch

So I kept checking the Kennedy Center schedule to find out when Daniil Simkin would be dancing and finally got a ticket for tonight. Because it's Daniil, and of course I want to see his cute face, I went ahead and got orchestra, as close to the front as I could still get, having delayed ticket buying.

Bum gouge.

So row H turned out to be the second row (the orchestra having called dibs on rows A-F). Yay for being close to Daniil! But oopsie: Row G had an occupant in front of me. A tall one. A very tall one with big curly hair.

I considered hopping over the aisle to the front row in the center section, as those two people didn't show up for the first act. But lo, they ambled in for the second act (the one with Daniil). So I settled in to squirm back and forth around tall bushy guy for Act II and Daniil's performance in the pas de deux from Swan Lake.

But wait a second. Who the hell is that? It wasn't Daniil. It was Marcelo Gomes. Who's a perfectly handsome and wonderful dancer and all that, but I wanted Daniil. Now I need to go find out what happened to him. He is too well trained to just not feel like dancing.

As for the rest of the program, I will say I thoroughly enjoyed the 80% of the first and third acts that I could actually see: "Black Tuesday" by Paul Taylor (with recorded songs of the Great Depression including "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" performed by Simone Messmer and "Brother Can You Spare a Dime" performed by Jared Matthews) and "Thirteen Diversions" by Christopher Wheeldon (to Benjamin Britten's "Diversions for Piano and Orchestra").

These two pieces were fresh additions to the "typical" ABT mixed rep of twirling glitterpops. The Wednesday night audience was tepid, though. The only standing-ovationers were along the sides and back of the house. Not even tall bushy-haired man stood--which enabled me to actually see the company when I did.

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: