Review: “Sex Status 2.0”

It seems appropriate that Sex Status 2.0, conceived and directed by Carrie Ahern, takes place in the privacy of an apartment. Inspired by Simone De Beauvoir’s literary opus The Second Sex, this intimate, site-specific dance piece reflects on womanhood at large through the prism of the individual’s experiences. As a part of the creative process, the performers (Carrie Ahern, Carolyn Hall, Kelly Hayes, Donna Costello, Elke Rindfleisch, Jennifer Chin and Anne Parichon) were to “question” their bodies about the relevance of those lived experiences. For the most part they found that despite the significant progress of gender equality since The Second Sex was published in 1949, it still resonates today.

The topic of gender continues even as frivolously dressed ladies, from early 20th century French posters, wink at me from the bathroom walls. I spot a mop in the corner; I have the same one at home. Only mine, instead of cleaning dust, is collecting it. Along with five other audience members out of twenty four, I find cleaning tedious, which is revealed in a survey during the performance. The audience was evenly distributed between men and women, and the performance seems to be created for both. The 20 multiple-choice questions often come in pairs, like “Do you seek validation for cleaning?” and “Do you seek validation for sex?” but it did not feel pointed towards a particular sex.

The opening choreographic sequence also explores parallels between sex and cleaning, two “activities” traditionally attributed to women. Scattered around the room, seven dancers scrub the surfaces with various parts of their bodies, some of them achieving a near orgasmic state, while others bring themselves to complete frustration.The chorus emits moans and monosyllabic exclamations communicating the ramping complex sensations, each performer tangled in her own story.

The questionnaire about cleaning and sex preferences tries to rationalize these experiences. But how telling the data may be remains a question in and of itself. Whether a mockery or a part of Ahern’s continuing research, the survey brings the audience, seated along the perimeter of the room, closer together. After a few shared laughs, the individual bubbles are broken and we feel freer to meet eyes with the performers when their siren gazes call for it or to engage in physical interactions.

At some point I am asked to rub any part of my exposed skin against any part of the exposed skin of one of the performers. Other people around me are prompted to other physical contact  like putting a palm on a performer’s bare neck or her belly. Touch, both observed and experienced, is a big part of Sex Status 2.0. Of all the senses, it grounds us in the moment the most and turns our attention to our own bodies. The soft, enveloping lighting, by Jay Ryan, creates a warm and safe atmosphere for sharing and self-observation regardless of the gender.

The hysterical agony of the “cleaning” opening scene is sharply contrasted with the playful exploration of each other’s physicality in a scene resembling nymphs dancing in the woods. Sex Status 2.0 revises the ways in which women are perceived in Western culture without criticizing or dismissing but layering on top of them instead. Gentle vocalizing by Starr Busby (author of the original music for the piece), has a dialogue with the choreography throughout, highlighting the complexity of the topic.

The performance ends on an enigmatic image of women seated on the floor, their white shirts flipped and buttoned on the back. Like some mythological toads, they swiftly catch invisible objects in the air and plant them in their mouths. Awash with uncanny colored lights (another smart lighting design effect), the performers look alien. Starting as a sociological project, the performance slowly transitions into the poetical and even philosophical plane, culminating in this strong, haunting finale. Beauvoir’s opening question, “Are there even women?”, is especially poignant embodied in the this closing image.  

Ahern plays with the social constructs associated with womanhood but ultimately encourages the audience to turn the attention inwards and ask their bodies to guide them through the journey of gender. Cleaning and sex used to be seen as services that women provide to men. Here they are offered as tools of self-exploration. Cleaning puts the body in close relationship with the space. The mindful physical contact helps to connect to the other and, hence, the self.                  

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Sex Status 2.0 plays in three private apartments in Brooklyn and Manhattan through November 10th. Tickets are $25-$100 (sliding scale). Tickets and more information are available at sexstatus20-borrowedprey.nationbuilder.com.  

[This Review was published on NoProscenium.com on 10.29]

Review: “Measure for Measure”

A shockingly bold adaptation of Measure for Measure by a Russian theater is timelier than ever in the era of #MeToo.

Measure for Measure by Moscow’s Pushkin Theater, produced in collaboration with Cheek by Jowl, is easily one of the darkest interpretations of one of Shakespeare’s problem plays. Part of BAM’s New Wave Festival, this production cuts to the chase, boldly confronting the topics of authority, power, and sexuality. Some of the minor characters are removed, and along with them the comedic elements. Straightforward and occasionally brutal physical interactions between the characters will make you gasp in haunting recognition. This Measure for Measure is unkind to its characters and unapologetically honest with its audience. If you dare to be challenged and can read English supertitles fast enough (the play is in Russian), you’ll be rewarded.   

Peter Rykov, Elmira Mirel, and Andrei Kuzichev in Measure for Measure. Photo by Johan Persson.

Duke (a slightly eccentric yet sensible Alexander Arsentyev) leaves Venice in order to bring into action his peculiar plan for very unconventional governing. Left in charge is Angelo (the ice-cold and razor-sharp Andrei Kuzichev), who immediately enforces the law against immorality. As the exemplary case, he condemns Claudio (Petr Rykov) for impregnating his unwed bride Juliet (Anastasia Lebedeva). Lucio (played by Alexander Feclistov as an aging S&M enthusiast) fetches Claudio’s sister Isabella (the incredible Anna Vardevanian) from the nunnery to plead with Angelo for her brother’s life. Outspoken and self-righteous, Isabella sparks a maniacal obsession in Angelo, who asks her to give her virginity to him in exchange for her brother’s life. The attempted rape scene that unfolds between Isabella and Angelo is equally disturbing and powerful. Her shriek of shame and fear—“Who will believe me?!”—pierces through time and reverberates with the #MeToo movement.          

Director Declan Donnellan constructs a gloomy Kafkaesque reality where people have Italian names and guards wear Russian police uniforms. It is always tempting to see a modern-clothed classical play as a comment on the political atmosphere in a particular country. Though we should never omit the notion of the present, how far should we stretch the analogy? My non-Russian companion spotted the physical resemblance between Andrei Kuzichev (as Angelo) and Putin. It's certainly there, not even in the facial features as much, but in a kind of reserved behavior bearing an iron will and an enormous lust for power. This Measure for Measure takes the Shakespearean masquerade to a whole new meta-theatrical level, never taking the mask off entirely. 

Putin or not, the atmosphere of oppression is nearly suffocating. The low-hanging rows of lights illuminate a nearly empty stage. Paired with a bare table and a few chairs, they are reminiscent of a prison interior even when the action does not take place in prison. The actors only leave the stage to change (some of them double as several characters). Most of the time, though, they stay together as a pack, watching the action from afar. The ominous presence of this silent, multi-eyed beast has an uncanny effect. This unsympathetic omnipresent gaze doesn’t belong to the eavesdropping Duke, but is a character in and of itself. Occasionally the “chorus” scatters across the stage in Brownian motion or dances in a circle like in Fellini’s 8 1/2. The choreography by Irina Kashuba also provides the play’s gloomy finale. Pardon the spoiler, but there are no happy weddings, no sense of the order being restored, just this mechanical waltz.

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Measure for Measure plays at BAM Harvey Theater, 651 Fulton Street, through October 21, 2018. Running time is 1 hour 50 minutes with no intermission. Tickets are $32 - $105 and are available at bam.org or by calling 718-636-4100. For more information visit bam.org.)

Measure for Measure is by William Shakespeare. Directed by Declan Donnellan. Designed by Nick Ormerod. Lighting Design by Sergey Skornetskiy. Music by Pavel Akimkin. Choreography by Irina Kashuba.

The cast is Alexander Arsentyev, Yuri Rumyantsev, Andrei Kuzichev, Alexander Feclistov, Petr Rykov, Nikolay Kislichenko, Ivan Litvinenko, Vladimir Ziberev, Igor Teplov, Alexey Rakhmaninov, Anna Vardevanian, Elmira Mirel, and Anastasia Lebedeva.

Review: “TBD: The Live Devising Project”

Cucumber Dogs engage their audience to participate in creating a new show every night using a “devised theater” technique.

Cucumber Dogs, in association with Sitting Shotgun, invite the Fringe audience to witness a miraculous birth of a theater piece and even contribute to its creation in their interactive TBD: The Live Devising Project. Known as "devised theater," the format engages the audience members in sharing their experiences on a particular topic. Those stories later become an inspiration for the brand-new piece created on the spot by the cast. Every show is different and nobody knows what’s to come.

Devisers in TBD: The Live Devising Project. Photo by Allie Marotta.

The ensemble creates three mini-shows in the span of one performance. The process consists of three phases: gathering source material from the audience, ideating with the team, and creating a story. Each part is timed, making TBD a very dynamic experience and adding an additional layer of suspense: will the company stand up to the challenge?

First, a volunteer chooses a random topic (like Magic, A Day at the Beach, or Travel) from a pre-made topic board. The audience gets five minutes to share thoughts, while ensemble members take notes and ask follow-up questions. Over the next five minutes the ensemble brainstorms, and the audience gets to offer a suggestion or throw in a prompt drawn out of the box (like "constant contact" or "dance break"). They then take ten minutes to develop scenography—various props appear, music is picked, and designer Joe Scardino adds some amazing improvised lighting for a high production value, which is difficult to achieve in a festival setting.       

Before you know it, the show is unfolding in front of you, somewhat improvised but following the previously discussed dramatic arc. The sketches are mostly physical, set to music and voice over. Cucumber Dogs use a three-part structure to build the story, elevating the trivial experiences of audience members to existential metaphors. Sometimes the results seem precocious and don’t quite work but hey, you try to develop and put on a show in 15 minutes. Of course having audience members entrust their personal experiences means there's already a level of investment in the story already. And as the devisers say, it's all about going through this together.    

Devised Theater, much like improv, relies heavily on connection between the participants. It is inspiring to see the international ensemble of Cucumber Dogs collaborating seamlessly. There is much to learn from them about efficient communication, respect, and putting the mutual goal above individual ambitions. For that alone, TBD: The Live Devising Project is worth attending for anybody who interacts with other people (which means everybody).

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TBD: The Live Devising Project plays at FringeHUB, 685 Washington Street at Charles Street, through October 27, 2018. Meet at the ORANGE FringeNYC flag. The running time is 1 hour 20 minutes. Performances are Sun 10/14 at 8, Tue 10/16 at 5, Sat 10/20 at 6, Sun 10/21 at 1:15, and Sat 10/27 at 8. There is no late seating at FringeNYC. Tickets are $22 (plus $3.69 ticketing fee), $16 (plus $3.51) for seniors, and are ONLY available online at fringenyc.org. For more information visit sitting-shotgun.com.

TBD: The Live Devising Project is devised by Cucumber Dogs. Created in association with Sitting Shotgun. Directed by Allie Marotta. Lighting Designed (live) by Joe Scardino. Facilitated by Allie Marotta. Co-Facilitated by Fernando Moya Delago, Ricardo Delgado, and Monica Furman. 

The cast is Pascal Arquimedas, Salome Egas, Melina Finck, Shanti Rose, Ali Kennedy Scott, and Molly Siskin.

Review: The Mile Long Opera

Usually we measure the duration of a performance, not its distance. So, from its very title, The Mile Long Opera breaks out from the conventions of the genre. Just about everything else in this grandiose, site-specific production, conceived by architecture and design studio Diller Scofidio + Renfro and composer David Lang, is refreshingly rebellious. The venue is the length of the High Line park; the cast consists of 1,000 singers; the audience is asked to constantly walk forward amongst the performers to perceive the music. Perhaps the only aspect familiar to the theatregoers is the start time, 7pm. This twilight hour also becomes a source of inspiration for the librettist Anne Carson and essayist Claudia Rankine.

Performers in The Mile-Long Opera. Photo by Timothy Schenck

Carson and Rankine based The Mile Long Opera on interviews with everyday New Yorkers around what 7pm means to them. Traditionally, this is the hour of transition between the day and night, the quiet time spent at the family dinner table. But as the city around us, and individuals’ circumstances change, 7 o’clock starts to mean different things to different people. This ode to New York is a kaleidoscope of vignettes, told from the first-person perspective by people of all walks of life. You only hear bits and pieces, maybe a few lines as you pass by as if you were eavesdropping on the street. More often than not, the same part is delivered by multiple people, so the story unfolds as you walk by them. Some of the lyrics are sung, some are spoken, but melancholy and airiness saturates both arias and monologues. As if in tune to this nostalgic frequency, singers take out and listen to their tuning forks from time to time.   

The diversity of the backgrounds that is indigenous to New York is reflected in the texts as well as the cast. As you move among the garden inhabited with the statue-like singers, you have a chance to appreciate every single voice by itself, a luxury you rarely have in a traditional chorus. The volume and density of the sound varies greatly from nearly a whisper coming from a single person to the melodic cacophony of a few dozen singers amplified by an underpass. The mass scenes are the most spectacular visually as well. Imagine walking amongst the Terracotta Army warriors and each of them is singing.

The large choral scenes are nothing short of a nearly transcendent experience. But I enjoyed the quiet parts with singers spread out at a greater distance, as well. The sounds of the city: sirens, honking and cicadas find their way into the score. You start to look around and connect the stories to the landscape. You hear somebody talk about how they made the most beautiful meat hook, and you see the construction workers plaster the walls of what’s about to become an office space or a fancy apartment. What has become of the Meatpacking District? I wonder if that hook is still in the ceiling.       

As your gaze drifts away, you start noticing people in buildings cleaning the windows here and there. Drowning in the sterile blue light, they each move at their own pace, appearing to be in a trance. Their solitude suddenly makes me appreciate that I am amongst other people right now. And, to quote from the opera itself, “No, we don’t talk but people get to know each other just by walking past each other all the time.” Living in New York, we are all accustomed to moving in a stream of people, so the dynamic of The Mile Long Opera is very familiar. Only this time you can slow down and soak it all in. You can experiment with your pace in order to get the best sound and get acquainted with the story as much as you want. The program states that the entire promenade takes about 90 minutes, but it took me a little over two hours.  

The lighting is mostly focused on illuminating the faces of the singers with visors, small hand flashes, tablets, or even glowing Styrofoam coffee cups. The all-black (or white in some of the scenes) attire allows the members of the cast to look solemnly uniformed and at the same time brings out individuality. It is delightful to be able to look the performers in the eyes and exchange a smile. Or cover your eyes halfway and really listen to how a sung line fades out and is echoed by the next singer. The spoken monologues (most of them about various tables in various households) were a little problematic to perceive on the go, especially if the performer would make eye contact with you. Stopping and listening to it for a prolonged time might cause a traffic jam to which the stage manager in a fluorescent safety vest would hurry and politely encourage you to proceed. But worry not, in the beautifully printed program, which you receive in the end of your journey, you can find all the texts and read them like a book of poetry.
(This review was published on NoProscenium.com)