tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67297003450664429322024-03-14T06:04:53.565-04:00New Show New York Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.comBlogger238125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-51388843042158430092023-03-08T20:40:00.001-05:002023-03-08T20:40:59.130-05:00LOVE<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><i>A heart-breakingly realistic play about the inhabitants of a temporary housing facility that celebrates love and humanity.</i></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">For <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">LOVE</em>, first staged at the Royal National Theater in 2016, the vast space of the Park Avenue Armory's drill hall is “shrunk” to the size of a cramped communal space in a temporary housing facility. Some audience members are seated on bleachers on either side of the set, or on plastic chairs that share the floor with the inhabitants of this gloomy establishment. Harsh fluorescent lights stretch overhead above, illuminating both the stage and the auditorium as if to say that we all walk under the same sky.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhR3KcL_TIPofKtXx5B-i9Ji8ojENR_2b-h8KNWU5TXIJbLb5Jnj-enHopVQLcFt8mjpCyJ7bo7qf_RIvudeul4k2swvJwxsxXPlLq9U4OQnlLWoMvTbfdYgZMYat_vt1VsVldUqjdXGQOC6Sdg1bBg4evZd6iWQYFQLakkLYZcgZIBIEMh2U1cykK/s900/LOVE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Nick Holder and Amelda Brown in LOVE. Photo by Stephanie Berger." border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="900" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhR3KcL_TIPofKtXx5B-i9Ji8ojENR_2b-h8KNWU5TXIJbLb5Jnj-enHopVQLcFt8mjpCyJ7bo7qf_RIvudeul4k2swvJwxsxXPlLq9U4OQnlLWoMvTbfdYgZMYat_vt1VsVldUqjdXGQOC6Sdg1bBg4evZd6iWQYFQLakkLYZcgZIBIEMh2U1cykK/w640-h426/LOVE.jpg" title="Nick Holder and Amelda Brown in LOVE. Photo by Stephanie Berger." width="640" /></a></div><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Nick Holder and Amelda Brown in </span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box; text-align: center;">LOVE.</em><span style="text-align: center;"> Photo by Stephanie Berger.</span></span><br /></span><p></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">This blurring of theatre and reality is at the heart of Alexander Zeldin’s play, which originated from interviewing, and even improvising scenes with, people who lived in various emergency housing facilities in the UK. The realistic set and costume design by Natasha Jenkins is appropriately dull and depressing, with grimy pale yellow walls, cast-off clothes presumably procured from thrift shops and aid agencies, and multiple numbered doors, each containing a family, a love story, and a silent cry for help.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">How is one supposed to live and care for children or an aging parent in the conditions of severely limited privacy, while fighting the many-headed hydra of bureaucracy? In a string of devastatingly mundane scenes, we witness how Dean (Alex Austin) tries his best to maintain healthy routines for his two kids, the relentlessly optimistic Paige (Amelia Finnegan, alternating with Grace Willoughby) and the surly Jason (Oliver Finnegan). Dean's pregnant partner Emma (Janet Etuk), desperate to get out of housing limbo before her baby is born, struggles to find the time and energy for her training in massage therapy.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">While initially confident they won't be here long, Dean and Emma are shocked to learn that Colin (Nick Holder) has been stuck in the shelter for a year now, where he does his best to care for his aging mother Barbara (Amelda Brown). Meanwhile, Sudanese immigrant Tharwa (Hind Swareldahab) and Syrian refugee Adnan (Naby Dakhli) mostly stick to their rooms, only becoming animated when talking to each other in their shared language.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">LOVE</em> explores daily life in a place that is never fully private or public, revealing how even something as small as a misplaced mug can ratchet up the tension between both family members and strangers. But Zeldin's play also reveals so much kindness and, yes, love. One can tell that love was a driving force of this project. For all of the stress these characters must deal with, love is spoken often, sometimes casually, yet always sincerely. Love is also transmitted through gestures of care, like Colin's playful washing of his mother’s hair in the kitchen sink.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">LOVE </em>is filled with realistic moments that may indeed feel familiar, regardless of circumstance. Scenes of food—preparing it, serving it, eating it—are done in real time, making them feel closer to the skin. When was the last time you saw an actor eat an entire meal, and not just take a symbolic bite? Yet the emotional heft of such scenes can shift quickly. Once left alone with a melancholy Colin, as he chews on a drab bread and butter sandwich, we feel the dread of an entire year living in this facility, having these same boring meals while staring at the same dirty wall with the same print of Vettriano's <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Singing Butler</em>.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">Of course, most hated of all is the shared bathroom, around which such communal life must revolve. People impatiently wait for each other to leave, sneaking sheepishly in and out, clutching their thin rolls of toilet paper. <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Love </em>opens with such bathroom-related stress; likewise, its climax is centered around it. But hardly anything gets resolved. Christmas is nearing, and we want to believe that everything will be OK.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">As we step outside the theatre, we of course face the reality that inspired <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">LOVE</i>: homeless people curled up in the niches of buildings and on the subway. A note in the program addresses this, arguing that <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">LOVE</em> "challenges audiences to not look away, but to confront the reality of homelessness, dispelling stereotypes and stigma." Yet it is admittedly deeply uncomfortable to go from admiring the aestheticization of staged misfortune to feeling paralyzed when walking past real people experiencing even worse circumstances. Or perhaps this is exactly the point.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #333333;">(</span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;">LOVE</i><span style="color: #333333;"> plays at Park Avenue Armory, 643 Park Avenue, through March 25, 2023. The running time is 90 minutes with no intermission. Performances are Mondays through Thursdays at 7:30, Fridays at 8, and Saturdays at 2 and 8. Tickets are $54 - $154 and are available at </span><a href="https://www.armoryonpark.org/programs_events/detail/love" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="background: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: black;"><b>armoryonpark.org</b></span></a><span style="color: #333333;"> or by calling (212) 933-5812.)</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">LOVE</i> is written and directed by Alexander Zeldin. Set and Costume Design by Natasha Jenkins. Lighting Design by Marc Williams. Sound Design by Josh Anio Grigg. Movement by Marcin Rudy. Fight Director is Kev McCurdy. Associate Director is Elin Schofield. Company Stage Manage is Alison Rankin. Deputy Stage Manager is Charlotte Verriez. Assistant Stage Manager is Tash Savidge.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">The cast is Alex Austin, Amelda Brown, Naby Dakhli, Janet Etuk, Amelia Finnegan, Oliver Finnegan, Nick Holder, Hind Swareldahab, and Grace Willoughby.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #333333;">(this review was published on </span><a href="http://theasy.com"><span style="color: black;">theasy.com</span></a><span style="color: #333333;">)</span></span></span></p>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-19696116758882138342022-09-30T12:32:00.004-04:002022-09-30T12:32:45.898-04:00The Orchard<p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><i>This adaptation of Chekhov’s play, featuring memorable human and robotic performances, makes poignant political commentary.</i></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />In <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Orchard</i>, produced by the Boston-based Arlekin Players at the Baryshnikov Art Center, one will still unmistakably recognize that original masterpiece of the early 20th century, <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Cherry Orchard</i>. Director Igor Golyak may have edited out a few minor characters and added and rearranged some text, but he has handled the source material with much respect and deep intuitive understanding. Aside from futuristic production design, robots, and a whole other virtual experience happening simultaneously, <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Orchard </i>makes Chekhov’s play strikingly relevant in light of the current war in Ukraine.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqO1M8aLVzab2pcPXyjoBpEaAeAa-tLbx9BFAU2a1n3a-VTGuTAajDGJgn8Xqq_NrTiwOqCvRLHlDVazTS_-TNdmaOTA3-OdPkMU7AECmmG1JvDWYmtJIql7rSV2Tgi8uJPBZUuihe526U8IaK9obQ4uHQ-fesfxMh5HnMbONBnQ4ZBs0MBZvkxBdH/s900/TheOrchard.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="900" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqO1M8aLVzab2pcPXyjoBpEaAeAa-tLbx9BFAU2a1n3a-VTGuTAajDGJgn8Xqq_NrTiwOqCvRLHlDVazTS_-TNdmaOTA3-OdPkMU7AECmmG1JvDWYmtJIql7rSV2Tgi8uJPBZUuihe526U8IaK9obQ4uHQ-fesfxMh5HnMbONBnQ4ZBs0MBZvkxBdH/w640-h426/TheOrchard.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", Calibri, "Gill Sans", "Gill Sans MT", "Myriad Pro", Myriad, "DejaVu Sans Condensed", "Liberation Sans", "Nimbus Sans L", Tahoma, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "sans serif";">Juliet Brett and John McGinty in </span><em style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", Calibri, "Gill Sans", "Gill Sans MT", "Myriad Pro", Myriad, "DejaVu Sans Condensed", "Liberation Sans", "Nimbus Sans L", Tahoma, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "sans serif";">The Orchard.</em><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", Calibri, "Gill Sans", "Gill Sans MT", "Myriad Pro", Myriad, "DejaVu Sans Condensed", "Liberation Sans", "Nimbus Sans L", Tahoma, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "sans serif";"> Photo by Pavel Antonov.</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Cherry Orchard</i>, a play about the fallen Russian aristocracy, follows a single family returning back to their estate after five years of living abroad. The house and the title to their cherry orchard are being auctioned off to cover their debt. Delusional matriarch Lyubov Ranevskaya (Jessica Hecht), who is supported by her immature brother Leonid Gayev (Mark Nelson), refuses to turn the unprofitable property into a business enterprise as suggested by Yermolai Lopakhin (Nael Nacer). And it is Lopakhin, who himself comes from a long lineage of serfs working the estate, who ends up buying the orchard.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Across the various productions of <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Cherry Orchard</i>, Lopakhin is alternately portrayed as a hero (a representative of the new class of working entrepreneurs) or a villain (a greedy <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">nouveau riche</em> with no respect for tradition). But in Golyak’s version, Lopakhin is neither. He does not represent an opposition to the “old” world, but is deeply intertwined with it and would love to preserve these emotional ties through his love for Ranyevskaya.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The snowglobe-like world of the estate (production design by Anna Fedorova) is about to shatter. Yet the threat to Ranyevskaya’s family comes not from Lopakhin but from the “outside,” embodied in the (traditionally minuscule) role of the tramp, here called “passerby” (Ilya Volok). Dressed in military uniform, he appears for a short scene and everybody cowers from his blatant demands in Russian. "Intelligentsia!" he calls them dismissively, picking up a volume of Chekhov buried under the layer of blue petals that cover the stage. I instantly sensed that it is this nationalistic, militaristic force that is to be feared.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">This makes<i style="box-sizing: border-box;"> The Orchard </i>a painfully relevant reading of Chekhov. Yet this is not surprising, coming from a director of Ukrainian descent, in a production starring Soviet dissident Mikhail Baryshnikov as the servant Firs. Watching the performance of this legendary ballet dancer (known to some as the Russian lover of Carrie Bradshaw in <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Sex and the City</em>) is a delightful experience in and of itself. One can tell that Baryshnikov, despite coloring his hair white, has way too much youthful energy to portray an ancient servant on the verge of death. Casting such a performer as the servant, and then extending his stage time, forces us to ponder the nature of servitude.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The other “servant” present on stage is a giant robotic “arm” called KUKA (robotics design is by Ton Sepe). Its functions, however, are not limited to serving coffee and sweeping. It also has a camera that follows the characters, the images of which are then projected onto the screen that spans the entire fourth wall, separating us from the actors. Unlike the other robotic creature (Charlotta’s dog), KUKA does not simply obey commands and perform tricks. On several occasions it grabs objects, thus preventing the characters (mainly Lopakhin) from possessing them. Is KUKA a spirit of the orchard, a symbolic trunk of the family tree, or an entirely separate character who has yet to claim their rights? The intrigue remains.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">It's also worth mentioning that the preoccupation with technology goes beyond the walls of the theater, with a whole other interactive version of <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Orchard </i>that happens entirely online. The two <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Orchard</i>s briefly intersect when the at-home audience appear as the “current bidders” at the auction for the orchard, complete with those now ubiquitous Zoom windows.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #333333;">(</span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;">The Orchard</i><span style="color: #333333;"> plays at Baryshnikov Arts Center, 450 West 37th Street, through July 3, 2022. The running time is 2 hours with no intermission. Performances are Tuesdays through Thursdays at 7, Fridays at 8, Saturdays at 2 and 8, and Sundays at 2 and 7. Tickets are $39, $59, and $79. The show can also be experienced as a live stream for $29. Tickets to both live and streaming versions are available </span>at <a href="https://www.theorchardoffbroadway.com/" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="background: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">TheOrchardOffBroadway.com</a>.)<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Orchard</i></span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;"> is based on </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Cherry Orchard</i></span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;"> by Anton Chekhov. Conceived, Adapted, and Directed by Igor Golyak. Produced by Arlekin's (zero-G) Virtual Theater Lab. Set Design by Anna Fedorova. Lighting Design by Yuki Nakase Link. Costume Design by Oana Botez. Sound Design by Tei Blow. Music Composition by Jakov Jakoulov. Projection Design by Alex Basco Koch. Emerging Technologies by Adam Paikowsky. Robotics Design by Ton Sepe. Director of ASL is Seth Gore. </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The cast is Jessica Hecht, Juliet Brett, Darya Denisova, Elise Kibler, Nael Nacer, Mikhail Baryshnikov, John McGinty, Ilya Volok, and Mark Nelson.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">(This review was published on <a href="http://theasy.com">theasy.com</a> on 6.23.22)</span></span></p>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-88246596645041080582021-12-07T17:39:00.001-05:002021-12-07T17:39:16.168-05:00The Mood Room<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><i>Annie-B Parson magically blends movement and spoken word in a story about self-care fanatics from 80’s California.</i></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Mood Room</i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">, the latest work renowned Brooklyn-based choreographer Annie-B Parson, is a trip. Part dance, part “spoken opera,” it is based mostly on Guy de Cointet's 1982 play <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Five Sisters</em>, with occasional excerpts from Chekhov’s classic </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Three Sisters</i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">, and even a couple of lines from </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Cherry Orchard</i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"> (if I am not mistaken). It is set in 1980s California, where five sisters reunite in their childhood home, represented by the beige rectangle of a nearly empty stage covered by a lush carpet (set design is by Lauren Machen). White fringe curtains hang as a backdrop and frame a couple of carpeted staircases leading nowhere, giving a hint to the scale of this family residence. But if you still couldn't tell this is an upper-class Californian lifestyle, this house has a room called “the mood room.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwy_DfRI7xajMuSKdPxNbkFk7ELwbWpwsxg5E3172ykpUtgo0mVD8sww54Tet3b2hWTYW8HixRo-aN7wuGrL0-C2jYloS4nAMu7mcB5Hf5uGDX5AQIf8tJUNwz_AJbJDsSGVXT-04ne6xk2AI0GrE-ynwFtjB5GgrnKKd4UPJwM6vOllhK4QjfvBSz=s503" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="503" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwy_DfRI7xajMuSKdPxNbkFk7ELwbWpwsxg5E3172ykpUtgo0mVD8sww54Tet3b2hWTYW8HixRo-aN7wuGrL0-C2jYloS4nAMu7mcB5Hf5uGDX5AQIf8tJUNwz_AJbJDsSGVXT-04ne6xk2AI0GrE-ynwFtjB5GgrnKKd4UPJwM6vOllhK4QjfvBSz=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", Calibri, "Gill Sans", "Gill Sans MT", "Myriad Pro", Myriad, "DejaVu Sans Condensed", "Liberation Sans", "Nimbus Sans L", Tahoma, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "sans serif";">(L-R) Elizabeth DeMent, Kate Moran, Michelle Sui, and Myssi Robinson <br />in </span><em style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", Calibri, "Gill Sans", "Gill Sans MT", "Myriad Pro", Myriad, "DejaVu Sans Condensed", "Liberation Sans", "Nimbus Sans L", Tahoma, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "sans serif";">The Mood Room.</em><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", Calibri, "Gill Sans", "Gill Sans MT", "Myriad Pro", Myriad, "DejaVu Sans Condensed", "Liberation Sans", "Nimbus Sans L", Tahoma, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "sans serif";"> Photo by Julieta Cervantes.</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">The mood room remains unseen, but characters retire into it periodically. Maria, who developed an allergy to the sun after her “vacation on a remote island,” finds her only refuge there.</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"> Iwan </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">places her red painting there. A workaholic Dolly takes a nap. But there is no reason to suspect that</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"> the sisters’</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"> life offstage is any more meaningful than what we see. Sisters come and go, engaging in conversation with each other, mostly discussing their doctors, dieting, the benefits of rest, and their youthful and radiant looks. They sound like a mixture of advertising and quotes of “influencers” of the time (one of them is even mentioned by name—a gossip columnist Rona Barrett). So when they occasionally switch to communicating in bird-like sounds, it doesn’t make much of a difference. </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">Enchanting choreography by Annie-B Parson is what makes <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Mood Room</em> so mesmerizing. As the sisters talk, they engage in a dialogue with their entire body, adding movement to the verbal communication and emphasizing the alienation effect. It looks like a made-up sign language that only five sisters can understand, but does it convey meaning, or is it just empty movement? For that matter, does their dialogue convey any meaning? “No one changes; no one learns anything” says Annie-B Parson in her director’s note. Yet it is impossible to divert one’s eyes from the hypnotizing performance, greatly enhanced by the superb lighting design (by Joe Levasseur). </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">In </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Mood</i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"> Room</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">,</span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;"> </i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">the critique of the budding self-care movement of the Reagan Era is apparent. The endless navel-gazing seems pointless and unfortunately rings true today. The predominantly beige and white set, as well as Baille Younkman and Samantha Mcelrath's whimsical costumes, are of the exact same "trendy" color scheme dominating today's most popular Instagram stories. A projection screen obscured by a fringe curtain (video design is by Keith Skretch) shows actresses engaged in actions similar to those on stage, sometimes wearing slightly different costumes, performing in a similar, white-box room. “Am I me or am I double?” says one of the sisters. Nowadays, a lot of us live in two parallel realities, online and offline, so this question has a new edge. </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Mood Room </i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">is a healthy reminder that, when self-care becomes a lifestyle and the individual focuses exclusively on their own person, they are at risk of losing themself entirely. </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;">_________________________________________________________</i></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;">The Mood Room</i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="color: #333333;"> plays at BAM Fisher, 321 Ashland Place, through December 5, 2021. The running time is 1 hour with no intermission. Proof of vaccination and masks required. Performances are Tuesday through Thursday at 7:30, Friday at 7 and 9, Saturday at 7:30, and Sunday at 3 and 7. Tickets start at $35. For tickets and more information visit </span><a href="https://www.bam.org/the-mood-room" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="background: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: black;">bam.org</span></a><span style="color: #333333;">.</span></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Mood Room</i> is created by Annie-B Parson, based on <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Five Sisters</em> by Guy de Cointet with additional text from <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Three Sisters</em> by Anton Chekhov. Music by Holly Herndon. Sound Design and Recomposition by Mark degli Antoni. Set Design by Lauren Machen. Lighting Design by Joe Levasseur. Costume Design by Baille Younkman and Samantha Mcelrath. Video Design by Keith Skretch. Produced by Big Dance Theater and co-commissioned by The Kitchen, BAM (Brooklyn Academy of Music), Carolina Performing Arts/UNC-Chapel Hill, the Walker Art Center, the Wexner Arts Center, and with funds from the Starry Night Fund.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">The cast is Elizabeth DeMent, Kate Moran, Michelle Sui, and Myssi Robinson, and Michelle Sui. </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">(This review was published on <a href="http://theasy.com">theasy.com</a> on 12.2.21)</span></span></p>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-65263777859743353892021-12-06T19:05:00.001-05:002021-12-06T19:05:20.585-05:00Return the Moon<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><i>This site-specific dance company’s Zoom experiment hits a lot of the right notes but still seems underdeveloped.</i></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Return the Moon</i>, the newest production of Third Rail Projects, a renowned immersive theatre company (Then She Fell, The Grand Paradise, Ghostlight), is specifically designed for Zoom and is performed in real-time for an audience of 60. I jumped at the opportunity to see how these masters of choreographed narrative in a 360-degree environment would tackle the realm of the digital. The experiment sounds interesting enough in theory but—I won’t lie—the result is somewhat disappointing. Some moments feel sweet and endearing, but the overall impression is of a piece that is still being workshopped.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiubWfHcjAse9Qxppx70zVD7BVghVMxSOU5XKkpGAvtnd8ixsFcOfQCQQ11lPppkIo2rVkuS7eGQ7CSacX3P_fHmv5oBHi4r94WrrxgtVF8pEUqTCUFl1inzLhcXT5AAZ_aaxmHiBFB25YcM55a4hZw7yiMX7UlrRR8Z0X0HIwI9pY_WN8YO8TSghjJ=s502" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="502" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiubWfHcjAse9Qxppx70zVD7BVghVMxSOU5XKkpGAvtnd8ixsFcOfQCQQ11lPppkIo2rVkuS7eGQ7CSacX3P_fHmv5oBHi4r94WrrxgtVF8pEUqTCUFl1inzLhcXT5AAZ_aaxmHiBFB25YcM55a4hZw7yiMX7UlrRR8Z0X0HIwI9pY_WN8YO8TSghjJ=w640-h428" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><em style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", Calibri, "Gill Sans", "Gill Sans MT", "Myriad Pro", Myriad, "DejaVu Sans Condensed", "Liberation Sans", "Nimbus Sans L", Tahoma, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "sans serif";">Return the Moon.</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", Calibri, "Gill Sans", "Gill Sans MT", "Myriad Pro", Myriad, "DejaVu Sans Condensed", "Liberation Sans", "Nimbus Sans L", Tahoma, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "sans serif";"> Photo by Third Rail Projects.</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Return The Moon</i> combines audience interaction (via chat) with poetic imagery and good old storytelling. Only instead of a firepit, we lean towards our computer screen in our darkened rooms, beverage of choice in hand. For the first part, audience members are divided into four groups, each led by a performer. Those who wish to can turn on their video. And while active participation is not mandatory, as with any interactive piece, the theater simply won’t happen if nobody shows up. However the stakes are low, especially after all participants are anonymized at some point early on.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">Connecting over quotidian things is often satisfying. Recognizing ourselves in other people’s experiences is something that further facilitates the bond, and <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Return the Moon</i> plays on this human trait elegantly. Woven into a legend about the phases of the moon are prompts that encourage the audience to dive into their childhood memories or imagine the scenes from the tale. We are occasionally asked to type in the chat things that come by association—nuggets of a stranger's subconsciousness that will play at the end.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">For part of the show, we are encouraged to close our eyes as the screen goes dark. The entire narrative is unfolding in every person’s head. This deceptively simple “stage” device is very effective in creating magical worlds. I was grateful for this reminder of the power of imagination and the fact that we don’t always need screens to entertain ourselves. Sometimes the most whimsical visuals are projected right onto the insides of our eyelids.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">That said, <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Return the Moon</i> is full of striking visuals created with simple materials and inventive lighting effects. Tiny houses made of paper come alive with the play of shadows on them. The manipulation of everyday objects, such as a bowl of grains or a piano keyboard, creates mesmerizing visual poetry with lighting and cinematography created on the spot. Early surrealist films come to mind, as well as the liberal-arts-college film experiments of my youth.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">It wouldn’t be a Third Rail production without dance! But rarely do we see the full body of a dancer on the screen. However, in slowly crawling fingertips or ritualistic hand gestures, there is as much attention to movement as you might expect from a company whose primary language of expression is site-responsive choreography. In the era of remote work (and entertainment), seeing fragmented body parts (mostly heads) has become the new normal.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">But as the moon goes through different phases, so does life. As a reminder that the physical world exists outside the soft glow of the computer screen, the company mails some kind of package after the show. I haven’t received mine yet—perhaps some holiday delays at the post office. Like with any live show, things don’t always go as planned; waiting for a package in the mail is just another, if unusual, dimension.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">_________________________________________________________</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;">Return the Moon</i><span style="color: #333333;"> plays remotely on Zoom through December 11, 2021. The running time is 75 minutes with no intermission. Tickets are $42, Pay-it-Forward at $67, Subsidized at $15. Performance dates and times vary, but the three remaining performances are Sun 12/5, Wed 12/8 and Sat 12/11 at 8. For tickets and more information visit </span><a href="https://thirdrailprojects.com/return-the-moon#returnthemoon" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="background: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: black;">thirdrailprojects.com</span></a><span style="color: #333333;">.</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Return the Moon</i> is by Alberto Denis, Kristin Dwyer, Joshua Gonzales, Sean Hagerty, Justin Lynch, Zach Morris, Marissa Nielsen-Pincus, Tara OCon, and Edward Rice. Conceived and Directed by Zach Morris. Produced by Zach Morris & Edward Rice. Assistant Director is Marissa Nielsen-Pincus. Choreography by Marissa Nielsen-Pincus, Alberto Denis, Joshua Gonzales, Justin Lynch, Zach Morris, and Tara OCon. Sound Design and Original Music by Sean Hagerty. Visual Design by Zach Morris in collaboration with Alberto Denis, Kristin Dwyer, Joshua Gonzales, Justin Lynch, Marissa Nielsen-Pincus, Tara OCon, and Edward Rice. Stage Manager is Kristin Dwyer and Taylor Hollister. Production Managers are Kristin Dwyer, Marissa Nielsen-Pincus, and Edward Rice.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">The cast is Alberto Denis, Joshua Gonzales, Justin Lynch, Marissa Nielsen-Pincus, Tara OCon, and Kim Savarino.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">(This review was published on <a href="http://theasy.com">theasy.com</a> on 11.30.21)</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", Calibri, "Gill Sans", "Gill Sans MT", "Myriad Pro", Myriad, "DejaVu Sans Condensed", "Liberation Sans", "Nimbus Sans L", Tahoma, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "sans serif"; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br /></span></p>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-83468414835966917172021-11-11T16:43:00.011-05:002021-11-11T16:47:32.696-05:00alice…Alice…ALICE!<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">A mad-good cast of five wears multiple hats in this promenade adaptation of Alice in Wonderland.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">“We are all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad” proclaims the Cheshire Cat in Lewis Carroll’s famed novel. And when Alice asks “How do you know I’m mad?” he simply replies “You must be or you wouldn’t have come here.” It always seemed to me that anybody who is attending an immersive show has to be a little bit mad, or at the very least adventurous. It is the spirit of whimsy, of exploration, that makes the immersive format a perfect fit for <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Alice's Adventures in Wonderland</i>, where the audience members, much like the title heroine, are venturing into a journey to the unknown.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiPq_4piNCUU8pGdr1ca4K8VEl1sV80UMdS1Vp0zkX12HOKg3W_mnRt_svQV8i9nenAwDL4mV4OxWJ_6x1NocxoeO9XhN2BhCWovx4_OPc5RSnClZFSMklgIMiq73Bm_F5EJQ5QNF3hBKnQv6xeEKLBxtT-3ZzaXdelcS1TQB5LpOa3H1Qj-qZ0O64I=s2048" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiPq_4piNCUU8pGdr1ca4K8VEl1sV80UMdS1Vp0zkX12HOKg3W_mnRt_svQV8i9nenAwDL4mV4OxWJ_6x1NocxoeO9XhN2BhCWovx4_OPc5RSnClZFSMklgIMiq73Bm_F5EJQ5QNF3hBKnQv6xeEKLBxtT-3ZzaXdelcS1TQB5LpOa3H1Qj-qZ0O64I=w640-h426" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", Calibri, "Gill Sans", "Gill Sans MT", "Myriad Pro", Myriad, "DejaVu Sans Condensed", "Liberation Sans", "Nimbus Sans L", Tahoma, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "sans serif";">(L-R) Vicky Gilmore, Terry Greiss, Rivka Rivera and Joey Collins in </span><em style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", Calibri, "Gill Sans", "Gill Sans MT", "Myriad Pro", Myriad, "DejaVu Sans Condensed", "Liberation Sans", "Nimbus Sans L", Tahoma, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "sans serif";">alice…Alice…ALICE! </em><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", Calibri, "Gill Sans", "Gill Sans MT", "Myriad Pro", Myriad, "DejaVu Sans Condensed", "Liberation Sans", "Nimbus Sans L", Tahoma, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "sans serif";">Photo by Gerry Goodstein.</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">You probably heard of <span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Then She Fell</i></span> by Third Rail Projects, a choreographic immersive adaptation of Carroll's novel, which ran for seven and a half years in Brooklyn and inspired a whole new generation of immersive theatre-makers. The show permanently closed at the beginning of the pandemic. So it feels somewhat symbolic that Irondale Ensemble Project reemerges after the shutdown with their own version of the beloved story. It's a different company, and a very, very different Alice.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">Irondale Ensemble Project invites small groups of up to 25 audience members to jump down the rabbit hole together. <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">alice…Alice…ALICE!</i> closely follows the original text of the novel, necessarily shortening, or outright omitting, some of the scenes. We follow curious Alice (Vicky Gilmore) from one encounter to another, mostly sitting or standing around the performers as the action unfolds. The Space at Irondale, a vast and gloomy Sunday school converted into a performance venue, hosts the various inhabitants of Wonderland, all performed by the diverse cast of five.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">Given the small cast, each actor naturally plays multiple roles, and their chemistry stays intact from scene to scene and is contagious. At one point I found myself bursting into dance with the Cheshire Cat (Michael-David Gordon ), at another answering out loud to Mock Turtle (Terry Greiss)—such reactions aren’t necessarily built into the script, but the moment compelled me to step forward. The minimalist production features simple costumes and props, and uses bare walls (and occasionally some drapes), exploring many of the various nooks and crannies of the two-level space. But the scarcity of production design is balanced out by the radiant performances and lavish live music accompanying every scene.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">The sweet naivete of theatrical tricks employed to show Alice’s changing size at the beginning of the show is followed by a blow from reality. Instead of a hookah-smoking caterpillar on a mushroom, Alice meets with a psychiatrist (Joey Collins). Suddenly the heroine's inability to answer the simple question “Who are you?” receives a whole new meaning. In the scenes that follow, fantasy and nonsense continue to mix with everyday realities like living in a nursing home or defending oneself in a totalitarian regime. The deliberate confusion, the intertwining of joy and anxiety in this reading of Alice, is a brilliant find of director Jim Niesen. I only wish he went further down that rabbit hole, emphasizing the topic of aging even more.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">__________________________________________</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #333333;">(</span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;">alice…Alice…ALICE!</i><span style="color: #333333;"> plays at The Space at Irondale, 85 South Oxford Street, Brooklyn, through December 5, 2021. The running time is 90 minutes. Performances are Thursdays through Saturdays at 7:30 and Sundays at 5. Proof of vaccination and masks required. Tickets are $30; $15 for students, seniors and working artists. For tickets and more information visit </span><a href="https://irondale.org/alice/" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="background: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: black;">irondale.org</span></a><span style="color: #333333;">.)</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">alice…Alice…ALICE!</i> is by Irondale Ensemble Project, adapted from <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Alice's Adventures in Wonderland</i> by Lewis Carroll. Directed by Jim Niesen. Scenic Design by Ken Rothchild. Lighting Design by Emilio Maxwell Cerci. Costume Design by Hilarie Blumenthal. Music direction by Sam Day Harmet. Technical Director is Roni Sipp. Associate Producer is Renata Soares. Stage Manager is Jacqueline Joncas. Interns are Amara Pedroso and Manu.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">The cast is Joey Collins, Vicky Gilmore, Michael David Gordon, Terry Greiss, and Rivka Rivera. Musicians are Sam Day Harmet, Erica Mancini, and Stephen LaRosa.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">(This review was published on <a href="http://theasy.com">theasy.com</a> on 11.10.21)</span></p>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-45580740797687741882021-11-09T16:23:00.005-05:002021-11-09T16:24:50.111-05:00Assemble<p><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><i>A self-guided audio experience turns browsing in a furniture store into an existential immersive journey.</i></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Life is dealing with the consequences of the choices we make. We are happy about some of them, but often we question ourselves. As we agonizingly try to make a decision, our minds swing between the memory of past mistakes and anxiety about the future. COVID-19 only exacerbated this feeling of a "time of uncertainty," which is really an undertow of human existence. But the pandemic certainly played right into the rewrite of </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Assemble </i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">(it was initially staged in early 2020).</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh6iqRKw6anBvwWJe8gvDuWYN2ThxrHcAZpL1Lbc70OzFeG5Remz_aXKDDjdj7Yed6Anm57AXY995rZ_JT7KD8VpdkNjbYP5KpJHtmvvCb_xaRd_wPDqPZkya0kobS8ZobPdAKd3tJZF6-4nvjiouyOrQAYSZPYsUVPN6S2dtO7BvnQcDY2LXmJdM7E=s515" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="343" data-original-width="515" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh6iqRKw6anBvwWJe8gvDuWYN2ThxrHcAZpL1Lbc70OzFeG5Remz_aXKDDjdj7Yed6Anm57AXY995rZ_JT7KD8VpdkNjbYP5KpJHtmvvCb_xaRd_wPDqPZkya0kobS8ZobPdAKd3tJZF6-4nvjiouyOrQAYSZPYsUVPN6S2dtO7BvnQcDY2LXmJdM7E=w640-h426" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #333333;">Participants of</span><em style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;"> Assemble.</em><span style="color: #333333;"> Photo by Talya Chalef.</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Assemble </em>is an audio experience that combines mundane shopping with existential dread. </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">We find Jane (Jen Taher), the protagonist</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">, on the verge of her fortieth birthday—a obvious time of transition that comes with acute feelings of uncertainty. We never actually see Jane, but, with the help of the app designed by the </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Assemble</i> <span style="box-sizing: border-box;">team</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">, audience members are invited to join her on a quest for clarity. And doesn’t everybody crave clarity in life? </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">In this solo, self-guided audio experience, Jane and her companions are led by Sigrid (Sophie Sorensen), an AI shopping assistant/life coach created by a global retailer whose name I was asked not to reveal. During the brisk walk from the meeting point (a bar in Red Hook) to the secret store, the main character is introduced and the participant’s body gets tuned in (via prompts to register sounds, smells, and tastes, delivered a bit too rapidly). I should make a note here—this was my second time attending </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Assemble </i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">(I went during the initial run in January 2020) so I already knew where this site-specific performance takes place. Nevertheless, I was still thrilled to enter the massive store—would I make better decisions this time?</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Assemble </i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">is a choose-your-own-adventure experience, in which Sigrid brings options up on the screen of your mobile phone, and you get to decide what is going to be the next turn that Jane’s (and thus your own) adventure takes. The scenes and monologues that unfold upon making a selection might be contemplative or else might encourage you to interact with the environment. </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">The experience is made surreal because </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Assemble </i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">is a 100% guerilla performance. No other visitors of the store, staff, or executives are aware of what is going on in your headphones. Trespassing feels exciting, like true street art. That said, the creators of </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Assemble </i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">are respectful of the business they populate, its customers, and their audience members. All the mischievous prompts are innocent enough and don’t stray away much from the behavior of regular customers. </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">My only concern this time around is the sensation of an increased tempo in comparison to the first run. With the exception of a few scenes, the rewrite allows less time for the participant to calmly soak it all in. I felt like I was constantly nudged to move and perform actions that didn’t always feel necessary. My guess is that, by activating the audience through physical action, the creators hope to achieve more immersion, but they may have taken it too far. Between Jane’s story of mid-life crisis and Sigrid’s cheerful attempts to piece it all together, there is less space left for the audience member—their sensations, their emotions, their life experiences. And isn’t that why we love immersive theatre? Because it places the participant at the center? </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">However, the environment is designed to pull you in, which is something that <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Assemble</em> plays with. The simple yet genius conceptual frame </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">to unobtrusively claim the store layout as a site of performance and to populate it with new narratives still has a powerful effect. Without ever saying it directly, </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Assemble</i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"> continues to be a clever critique of consumer culture, and of the rising expectations that “successful” citizens, especially women, need to fulfill. In a way, the quickened tempo and the intensified sound design is synonymous with the frenzy and density of modern urban life. But I wish I had just a little bit more time to stroke that duvet while listening to the snoring of an unseen partner. <br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">_____________________________________________________</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">(<i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Assemble</i> <span style="box-sizing: border-box;">plays at a secret location in Red Hook, Brooklyn (revealed upon buying a ticket). Tickets are currently on sale through December 31, 2021. The running time is around 1 hour 45 minutes. Performances are daily (Mondays through Sundays), starting</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"> every 20 minutes from 5 – 6:40. Tickets are $40; $30 for students, full-time artists and unemployed. For tickets and more information visit <a href="https://www.projectassemble.org/" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="background: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">projectassemble.org</a>.</span>)<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Assemble</i> is by David Blackman, Talya Chalef, and Jess Kaufman.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">The cast is Jen Taher, Sophie Sorensen, Danny Bryck, and features a global ensemble of 20 voice actors including Alison Bell, Neil D’Astolfo, Robin Galloway, Brooke Ishibashi, and Mia Katigbak.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">(This review was published on <a href="http://www.theasy.com/Reviews/2021/A/assemble.php" target="_blank">theasy.com</a> on 11.8.21)</span></span></p>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-26809350947387429832021-10-12T13:12:00.001-04:002021-10-12T13:12:35.548-04:00The Last of the Love Letters<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><i>Two monologues of ex-lovers trying to make sense of life post-breakup.</i></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">“Do you remember seeing those things in those buildings? What are they called?" asks the character of You No. 2 (Daniel J. Watts). He fumbles underneath his mattress, one of the few objects in the hospital room, and fishes out a couple of playbills. “Plays! And theaters!” he exclaims gleefully. The small, sparsely seated audience of the Atlantic’s Linda Gross Theatre chuckles softly behind their masks. Although Ngozi Anyanwu’s </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Last of the Love Letters </i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">takes place in an anti-utopian no-time, the prospect of nearly forgetting what it feels like to be “sitting in the dark, breathing with strangers” is what connects on- and off-stage worlds. That, and of course the torments of a relationship after a breakup with a romantic partner. </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiz8uZFmpEdBkviAhrdinZJ61fwsy-TVb1AVPo5syutoptiXaxZ1OzwOf03IsBm9sBvfGpK-IwLzE_eTIxgrsPKpkHvwPO4QWO_HjNwLtEoEdMgiImpNevKbO3af9il3cKW3UkuETvN629SLtidj7eCkAo2INpKbrxBL0D8PT2HhWo6ZKoY1L2Hdsx9=s620" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="620" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiz8uZFmpEdBkviAhrdinZJ61fwsy-TVb1AVPo5syutoptiXaxZ1OzwOf03IsBm9sBvfGpK-IwLzE_eTIxgrsPKpkHvwPO4QWO_HjNwLtEoEdMgiImpNevKbO3af9il3cKW3UkuETvN629SLtidj7eCkAo2INpKbrxBL0D8PT2HhWo6ZKoY1L2Hdsx9=w640-h334" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by Ahron R. Foster</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">In a nutshell, </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Last of the Love Letters </i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">consists of two soliloquies by two former lovers. In those monologues—enactments of the texts of their letters—You (playwright Ngozi Anyanwu) and You No. 2 (Watts) try to make sense of the people they have become, and of their world without the other one in it. </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">As we enter the theatre, You is already on stage, lounging in a tiny apartment crowded with furniture, vinyl records, and chaotically decorated with drawings. The entire set (by Yu-Hsuan Chen) is jammed towards the middle, conveying the suffocating state in which You found herself towards the end of the relationship. Playful, humorous, sincere—the heroine pours out her soul, changing costumes in the middle of the scene to mark her transition from somebody her partner wanted her to be to what she thinks she is. </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">The transition to the next scene is jerking—suddenly we are catapulted from the realistic play into a futuristic dystopian asylum, where You No. 2 is confined for, presumably, being an artist. Stagehands dressed in white medical protective suits, complete with face coverings, pack an entire apartment in a large plastic container and roll it away. Only the bed remains, which the lovers still symbolically share despite being apart. The feeling of uneasiness is reinforced by flickering colored lights (by Stacey Derosier) and alarming sound design (by Twi McCallum). </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">We get an intriguing glimpse of the play’s universe during this transition, and with the appearance of a character simply named Person (Xavier Scott Evans)—a nurse of few words who periodically gives You No. 2 his medications. Unfortunately, we don’t get much outside of those short bits, and we are left to our imagination to fill in the blanks of this </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Orwellian </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">world. It might be argued that interpersonal relationships (the couple) are Anyanwu’s focus, but I wish she embedded this more thoroughly in the larger context. After all, the last of the love letters performed by You No. 2, one addressed to his former lover, turns out to be possibly the last love letter that civilization possesses. I am trying to avoid spoilers, but the stakes are higher than just private correspondence, and I wish the play elaborated more on this.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">Daniel J. Watts, however, makes it all worth it. With the extremely minimal scenic design now on stage, Watts uses every inch of the space in his physical and extremely charged performance. Every movement, precise and light, seems like a dance. Even his laying down on the floor is one of the most graceful performances of a motionless body, limbs twisted painfully, like those of a broken doll. Watts' performance has that gut-wrenching, bone-chilling, scalp-tingling intensity that is not translatable to the screen (or Zoom). Watching Watts I was reminded of what I longed for during this era of virtual theatre—the magic of stage presence. </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">(</span><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Last of the Love Letters </i><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">played at Atlantic Theater Company, </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">336 West 20th Street,</span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"> through September 26, 2021. The running time was 75 minutes with no intermission. More information at <a href="https://atlantictheater.org/production/the-last-of-the-love-letters/" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="background: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #80a9bc; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">atlantictheater.org</a>.)</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Last of the Love Letters is by Ngozi Anyanwu. Directed by Patricia McGregor. Scenic Design by Yu-Hsuan Chen. Costume Design by Dede Ayite. Lighting Design by Stacey Derosier. Sound Design by Twi McCallum. Production Stage Manager is Imani Champion.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">The cast is Ngozi Anyanwu, Daniel J. Watts, and Xavier Scott Evans.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">(This review was published on <a href="http://theasy.com">theasy.com</a> on September 28th)</span></span></p>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-60102147891526849132021-09-23T10:16:00.000-04:002021-09-23T10:16:06.326-04:00Utopian Hotline — Theatre Mitu<p><span style="font-weight: 700; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">$20-50; New York, NY; Through Sept 26</span></span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8nIN2abkF0Q/YUyLgpQiQFI/AAAAAAAATE8/isT_WpN1uQEJuMl27QRssboLb_-SmKudQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/bdv_EYss.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1363" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8nIN2abkF0Q/YUyLgpQiQFI/AAAAAAAATE8/isT_WpN1uQEJuMl27QRssboLb_-SmKudQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/bdv_EYss.jpeg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">Photo by <text class="textbox__3ziulaHePS__preview-doc" data-test="textbox" direction="ltr" height="10.7879638671875" lengthadjust="spacingAndGlyphs" style="background-color: white; text-align: left;" textlength="160.548004150391" x="124.399993896484" y="-676.588012695312">Alex Hawthorn</text></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-weight: 700; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-b6cf5c2a-7fff-bd88-3e0f-f5bc070b9262"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I dial </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">646-694-8050 and hear the following message: </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Thank you for calling the Utopian Hotline. We are collecting anonymous responses to help us build a better tomorrow. At the tone, please respond to the question: How do you imagine a more perfect future?” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After doing my best in summarizing my entire life philosophy in an elevator pitch, I hang up, my fingertips buzzing. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Will somebody ever hear this? Will my message to the future be received? </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Of course, I, like most other human beings, do tend to think about the future and have an opinion on how to make it better for everybody.) </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Two years ago, Theater MITU, a Brooklyn-based company, set up a public telephone hotline as a part of the research for a new show. Those messages, as well as conversations with astronauts, astronomers, futurists, and middle school students, have become the source material for </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Utopian Hotline.</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, a vinyl record and live performance. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Up to twelve audience members are invited to enter MITU580, the company’s studio, after removing their shoes. A lush pink carpet generously embraces my happy toes as I make my way to one of the round, white cushions placed around the perimeter of the black box theatre. There is a long, low table in the middle of the room with an array of telephones, tape records, vinyl record players, and microphones neatly assembled on it. An elongated projection screen hovers above the table, emanating a soft glow. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The aural components of </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Utopian Hotline.</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> make it to the audience through headphones. Four femme performers dressed in white jumpsuits and yellow socks sing and deliver monologues through microphones and telephone receivers. Like operators on a space station, they move around the table with graceful precision, connecting and disconnecting recorders and record players. The performance is woven from songs, messages from the hotline callers, philosophical reflections on the nature of time, and personal memories. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Part sci-fi call center, part group therapy for those who long to connect, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Utopian Hotline. </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is a meditative and soothing experience. The collage-like narrative takes the audience into the mind of a dyslexic person and to outer space, where the Voyager’s Golden Record is drifting alone in the dark, among other places. But the journey feels safe. And the haptic elements of the show’s design hold my body, much like the 21 layers of NASA’s first space suit held the early astronauts. From the soft touch of the playfully pink carpet to the comforting hug of the headphones, everything feels so calming that I don’t want to leave after the 45-minute performance is over. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The pressing immediacy of public and personal matters over the past two years has continued to knock many of us off our feet. But holding onto a sense of community and fixing our gaze upon the future helps us rise. This notion is what </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Utopian Hotline </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">reminds us of: curiosity and care are inherent to humans as a species, and no matter what we are going through, we can always count on them. As Stephen Hawking puts it, the objects are not trapped in black holes forever. And “if you feel you are in a black hole, don’t give up, there is a way out.”</span></p><div><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(This review was published on <a href="http://NoProscenium.com">NoProscenium.com</a> on September 15th)</span></div></span></span>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-58547352736777031012021-06-20T08:55:00.005-04:002021-06-20T08:55:41.360-04:00Un(re)solved at Tribeca Film Festival<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tucked behind the Netherland Monument at one of the entrances to Battery Park in Manhattan, you will find </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Un(re)solved</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, a temporary monument to a different page in American history; a more humane and ephemeral one.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Un(re)solved </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is an interactive installation that can be activated with a custom app. A brief audio introduction, prompted by the “Start” QR code on the pavement, invites you to step into the delicate structure on a slightly raised (but accessible) platform. Thirteen plexiglass panels of various heights form two concentric circles. Each panel contains a quilt with a drawing of a tree facing the circle and lists of names on the outside: 151 in total. Each of those people was murdered during the Civil Rights Movement-era, often simply because of their race. The murderers were not found or not punished. These cold cases were reopened by the Department of Justice in 2008 under the Emmet Till Unresolved Civil Rights Crime Act, but, for a lack of effort, resources, or evidence, most of them remain unsolved. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This touring installation provides a physical space to engage with the stories of political activists and humble workers, children, and adults--both named and anonymous--all lost to racial violence. The process feels like modern spiritual science. First, one needs to scan a QR code next to a name and, when prompted, say that name three times. Upon each call, augmented reality leaves appear on the phone screen and intensify their swirling until one of them comes forth, bearing a photo of the person summoned. More often than not, there is just a silhouette representing the deceased. The </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Un(re)solved </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">app shows a short dossier consisting of their name and age, the circumstances in which the victim died, and the date and the place of their killing. The “read more” button leads to a longer description of the fatal events, the details of the initial investigation, and the current status of the case. </span></span></p><p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;">Some of the entries contain fragments of audio interviews with members of the family and the community of the deceased; some of the open cases are also featured in an interactive documentary. (I came across a couple of the audio interviews but didn’t watch any video fragments.) Simply reading these dossiers already felt like a visceral experience. The physical discomfort of squinting at my phone under a blazing sun, trying to shield myself in the shade of one of the taller panels seemed appropriate. For those who wish to take a break, however, there are two rows of park benches running on either side of the installation. </span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-c13723ab-7fff-a171-0d81-c0dcac34368a"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The capacity of this multimedia project to grow as investigations progress in the future is remarkable. The combination of an expanding digital archive and a beautiful physical portal at the entrance of a park illustrates the ambivalent nature of time and history. The Civil Rights Movement-era belongs to the past, yet anti-Black violence continues to be a real threat in the United States. One can stay in the </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Un(re)solved </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">installation as long as they need or want to. I couldn’t help but want to hear more people’s stories, yet I was also feeling completely overwhelmed at the same time. Eventually, I made it to the outro of the piece (an audio message activated by another QR code in the center of the circles). On my screen, overlaid with scenes from a summer day in the park, ghostly presences were summoned; they flooded the air in the form of the names of the 151 people unjustly killed. And I am horrified to think of how many more there might be. </span></span></span><div><span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;">(This review was published on <a href="https://noproscenium.com/tribeca-immersive-diary-2021-updated-6-9-21-9c5724706052">NoProscenium.com</a> on June 17th, 2020)</span></span></span></div>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-63265758336591290672021-06-20T08:48:00.000-04:002021-06-20T08:48:07.902-04:00CURRENT at Tribeca Film Festival<p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Financial District of Manhattan is an ever busy part of town, crowded with tourists and workers; it’s also surrounded by water on three sides. Annie Saunders and Andrew Schneider, the two narrators and the co-creators of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">CURRENT</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, invite the audience to join them for an hour-long soundwalk through its streets: all you need is a charged phone and a pair of headphones. The tour starts in Zuccotti Park every half hour. The one-and-a-half-mile-long route takes the listeners down Broadway, past the New York Stock Exchange, and through a labyrinth of winding streets and alleys, some of which are so narrow you could easily miss them otherwise. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EVR0DxP4CX0/YM84kTxTMmI/AAAAAAAANjU/jUwQikH9kn4xi3Mbtbx9mcG7OGX62qYpACLcBGAsYHQ/s1140/current.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="1140" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EVR0DxP4CX0/YM84kTxTMmI/AAAAAAAANjU/jUwQikH9kn4xi3Mbtbx9mcG7OGX62qYpACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h360/current.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #757575; font-family: sohne, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">‘CURRENT’</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Obscure historical facts are intertwined with the authors’ peculiar and poetic observations about the surroundings. Just like the city blocks we are strolling through, the narrative reveals multiple layers of local and personal histories. Did you know that multiple burial grounds of free and enslaved Africans are found here, where skyscrapers are built? Or that Pearl Street once was the natural edge of Manhattan Island? </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">CURRENT</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> starts out as an unconventional city-centered audio tour and gradually builds up to be a philosophical reflection on urban development and the precariousness of human biology.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is no one single map that someone can follow during </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">CURRENT</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> as all the directions are given verbally, which presents some challenges at a couple of pivotal points. Occasionally, I exchange questioning glances with a stranger who was clearly also listening to </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">CURRENT</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> in tandem, and we are able to navigate as a collective. This act doesn’t feel burdensome or annoying, however; if anything, it felt a bit like a treasure hunt. “Find a ‘no parking sign’ and stand next to it,” says Annie’s friendly voice. And soon I’m scanning the environment with intensity and attention to the minute details of the cityscape. It’s a focus I can rarely afford when running errands in this part of town. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">CURRENT</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’s listeners are encouraged to follow the pace of Annie’s footsteps in order to not to fall behind during the experience. Normally, I consider myself a fast walker but this time I wasn't able to always keep up to the narration. Luckily, there are a few rest stops along the way, during which we get to hear fragments of interactions and interviews with the inhabitants and visitors of Manhattan. But I wished the pauses that followed the dialogue fragments weren't completely dead. Hearing nothing but silence for a few seconds after a conversational moment made me compulsively check my phone to make sure that I was still connected to the experience. I have a similar thought around the ending of the experience. The audio track unfortunately stops rather abruptly, right after we complete our loop and arrive back at Zuccotti Park; it’s a choice that leaves the listeners of </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">CURRENT </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">feeling somewhat adrift.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;">(This review was published on <a href="https://noproscenium.com/tribeca-immersive-diary-2021-updated-6-9-21-9c5724706052">NoProscenium.com</a> on June 18th, 2020)</span></span></p>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-83207469169480506322021-05-18T16:30:00.003-04:002021-05-18T16:30:48.975-04:00‘Zoetrope’ Brings Live Theatre Back to New York City (Review)<div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><i>Exquisite Corpse Company presents a kaleidoscope of familiar, absurd scenes from life in self-isolation</i><br /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The vacant lot on the intersection of Myrtle and Vanderbilt Avenues in Brooklyn wouldn’t normally catch my attention. A huge faded poster on the firewall says “Achtung, baby, here comes the Next Great Depression,” and underneath it a white wooden trailer covered with a blue tarp. Yet, I enter through the gate in the wire mesh fence holding my breath in anticipation. This inconspicuous lot with cracked asphalt, two porta-potties, and a canopy with a couple of chairs for a vestibule is the site of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Zoetrope</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, the first in-person live theatre show that I am seeing this year! </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2v_lSLA5gp0/YKQjOtuJR_I/AAAAAAAANFo/UqLDGMGY90QcSbts82qAquh922DzTEx1gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1318/Zoetrope_photo%2Bby%2BJess%2BDalene.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="879" data-original-width="1318" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2v_lSLA5gp0/YKQjOtuJR_I/AAAAAAAANFo/UqLDGMGY90QcSbts82qAquh922DzTEx1gCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/Zoetrope_photo%2Bby%2BJess%2BDalene.jpeg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;">photo by Jess Dalene</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Zoetrope</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, produced by Exquisite Corpse Company (producer Liz Frost) is an accessible and </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">COVID-19</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> safe “portable living diorama of 2020”. The slick white trailer mentioned in the beginning is where the theatre magic happens. The name of the show refers to an optical toy of the 19th-century, pre-film era. By rotating the cylinder with drawings on its inner surface (like phases of a horse’s gallop) and looking at it from the slits on the outside, one could create the illusion of movement. ECC’s </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Zoetrope </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">doesn’t rotate, but it has the slits. And once the show is brought to motion, we can observe various phases of the early days of COVID-19 era, chasing each other. Up to eight audience members can be safely seated around four openings into the trailer and observe the life of a couple in self-isolation in their tiny studio apartment. Painfully familiar and delightfully strange, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Zoetrope</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is an attempt to distance ourselves from the challenging and tragic past year in order to start processing what happened. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I nervously take my seat under the black muslin on the other side of the apartment’s TV screen. Other audience members get comfortable in front of the fish tank, a calendar, or a portrait. The sound of a disembodied voice and music come in through the headphones connected to an MP3 player. The curtains are pulled open and we can see Angel (Starr Kirkland, alternating with Vanessa Lynah for some of the shows) and Bae (Leana Gardella, alternatively Jules Forsberg-Lary) cozied up on the couch, each of them staring either at a laptop or a phone. A peaceful diorama of the “before” moment. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Suddenly, notifications pop in on Angel and Bae’s devices. “Looks like it’ll be just you and me for a while,” - and so starts the long period of hibernation, dealing with panic attacks, procrastinating, taking care of each other, fighting, and making space for each other in the suffocating shoebox of a city apartment. Some of us have been down that road, some of us are still in the middle of it. And although I had a strong, repelling reaction towards COVID-themed shows in the past, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Zoetrope </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">seems to strike the right cord and at the right moment. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Zoetrope, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">created by three playwrights, Elinor T Vanderburg, Leah Barker, and Emily Krause, is a realistic play with lively dialogue, poetically silent soliloquies, and generously peppered with humor. But because it is about the life of two young, hip, Brooklynites in quarantine in 2020, it is tragic and hilarious at the same time. The scenes from the life of an interracial couple rotate in front of our eyes like in a kaleidoscope: Bae brings home a fish from the supermarket because she wants a pet; a fight over an absurd amount of beans bought in a frenzy because there was nothing else in the store; Angel finds out the news of the police assaulting black citizens; the couple watches an election debate together. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You might not witness the same exact scenes. Zoetrope has a choose-your-own-adventure structure, where audience members are responsible for the twists of the plot. Three out of four seats in the house (or would it be more accurate to say “around the house”) have panels equipped with three switches. Once a panel lights up, the viewer in front of it can make a scene selection, based on the single image on the buttons. Mine were: a VHS tape, a mascot of Goldfish crackers, and a bottle of Absolut vodka. Not wishing self-destruction on the characters I pressed a button corresponding to a VHS tape image. The scene that followed featured Bae talking to a TV, while watching what appeared to be an interior design competition show, and loading up on Goldfish. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am not sure if the selection misfired or if crackers were destined to appear regardless; the fact that I made a choice felt inconsequential at that moment. It was a minor disappointment because the scene was funny and endearing. Under the direction of Porcia Lewis and Tess Howsam, and intimacy direction by Daniella Caggiano, the performances of Kirkland and Gardella were beautiful and made me tear up a couple of times over the 35 minutes that the show runs. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Perhaps the effect was strengthened by the fact that I was watching two humans performing in real life for the first time in months, only separated from them by plexiglass. Watching a live show from the other side of a TV felt uncanny and meta in some sense. Although studying every single detail in a slick, entirely black-and-white apartment (decorated by visual artists Emily Addison, Dominica Montoya) felt very familiar because of the hours spent on Zoom. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Over the past year, all of us who frequently participate in video calls simultaneously turned into voyeurs and performers in a peep-show. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Zoetrope </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">feels similar with one exception: you can’t “turn off the self-view” or dissolve into the sea of participants with their video turned off. The show stares at you, literally (through the eyes of the actors) and figuratively (I recognized myself in a lot of it). There is nothing like live theatre when it comes to holding a mirror up to the world. </span><br /><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />(This review was published on <a href="http://NoProscenium.com">NoProscenium.com</a> on May 18)<br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-30606518564329418152021-05-12T16:16:00.001-04:002021-05-18T16:21:18.873-04:00‘Icons/Idols: in the Purple Room’ (Review)<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Entering the New Ohio Theatre to see a show seems strange and exciting. And although </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Icons/Idols: in the Purple Room</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is a political drama set in the eighth century Byzantium, it is difficult to separate the past from the present. The historical events overlaid with the design of the experience, largely prompted by COVID-19 safety protocols, create an eerie atmosphere and make you revise “theatre” as a concept. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_meSATMgvZc/YKQg2FW7FKI/AAAAAAAANFg/5DeyJLbk444mYZPFvQ4OT5cmVrvQbde-gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Icons%253AIdols.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_meSATMgvZc/YKQg2FW7FKI/AAAAAAAANFg/5DeyJLbk444mYZPFvQ4OT5cmVrvQbde-gCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/Icons%253AIdols.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Byzantine Choral Project</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-e2f927f6-7fff-7a5b-1e37-48fb8d172ea5"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This production combines a 40-minute soundtrack (book and lyrics by Helen Banner, music by Grace Oberhofer), and an immersive installation (design by Afsoon Pajoufar). Upon receiving the timed entry ticket confirmation, I also get a link to download the audio file to my cell phone. Using my headphones, I can listen to the choral drama, prompted to move from one part of the installation to the other (for those who wish, mp3 players and headphones are available at the door). There are no live performers in the space (save for a single “stagehand” who helps to navigate the space if anybody is confused). The entries are staggered, so at any given moment, there are only a handful of audience members wandering in the labyrinths of history. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The story that unfolds is of the Byzantine empress Irene, and her life journey from a young orphan to the height of political power. Irene was brought to Constantinople by Constantine V to marry his son, Leo IV. This is where I, as an audience member, enter the story, descending the staircase leading to what normally would be the backstage but now is a hallway of a palace (there is also an accessible entrance). Floor-to-ceiling silk prints feature the black-and-white image of some ancient hall. The columns on the photograph rhyme visually with the columns in the theater. The craft paper runner leads to the towering “throne”, a red plastic chair atop a metal ladder, reminiscent of a lifeguard seat at the poolside. The eclecticism of the installation design is certainly stimulating but puzzling at times. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The site of the next scene is a large bed covered with white sheets stained with blood (the childbirth of Constantine VI, the next in line for the throne, just took place here). There are two remote controls prominently placed on the bed. It is unclear whether they are put there intentionally or were left there by mistake after two TVs featuring a single, slowly blinking eye were turned on. Either way, this minor detail was quite noticeable in the minimalistic and carefully put together set and took me out of the moment. The stakes dropped once I was visually cued that it all might just be a TV melodrama. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The historical events themselves are highly dramatic. The conflict between Irene and the male members of the royal family (first her father-in-law and her husband, then her son) revolves around the rivalry between </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">iconophiles and</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> iconoclasts. Irene, who is deeply connected to icons, first tries to pass this passion onto her younger son. However, she is discovered and punished by her husband by being separated from her child and practically imprisoned. Despite the personal trauma and the hostile atmosphere towards iconography in Byzantium, Irene continues her pursuit and will soon challenge the empire. She is not stopping even when her own son gets in the way of her vision. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Icons/Idols</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, the first part of the Byzantine Choral Project, is full of blood-chilling horrors and passion crushing everything in its way. The emotional turmoils are conveyed beautifully in acapella choral singing by the voices of ten female and non-binary performers. The installation component, on the other hand, slows down the dynamic narrative, and I am still not sure whether it benefits the vocal performance. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While the singing conveys raw passions, the installation looks like a cadaver of the past, held together by brown scotch tape. Some components of the visual design are stunning: for example, the large-scale fabric prints of the palace and the church, which looked triumphant and haunting, moving slightly as the few audience members were moving between them. So did the heavy velvet backdrop of the “purple room”. And even the bed, as a site of birth and death reads as an important visual dominant (minus the remote controls). But the brown tape generously used throughout the space made me cringe. Conceptually, it was probably referring to holding the Byzantine empire together. In reality, it looked messy and degraded the overall design concept. Thankfully, the bold and colorful lighting brought some edge to the visual design and held it together. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Execution aside, there is something haunting in the incongruity between the narrative unfolding chronologically in “real-time” and the non-linear trajectory of the movement through space, half-ruin, held together by inadequate means. It was also incredibly uncanny to see the familiar theater space transformed and to get disoriented. The entire experience, starting from entering New Ohio from where the actors normally would, and ending the show on the bleachers made me think of the future of the theatre-going: will it ever be the same? Most importantly, do we want it to be “the same”? Or should we follow the example of passionate Irene, who was able to seize the moment, changing the course of the entire Western civilization? </span></p></span></span>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-46686432938193970192021-05-11T12:49:00.000-04:002021-05-18T16:23:24.965-04:00Haunting Tales of ‘Someone Else’s House’ (Review)<h3 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; line-height: 28px; margin: 0.92em 0px -0.42em; text-align: left;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-e454b47e-7fff-6db8-f3b2-f3174658d757" style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><i>A ghost story by the fire in the age of the virtual theatre </i></span></span></p></span><p style="height: 0px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><br /></span></p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C7IRWPKi7E8/YKPvXz8zPkI/AAAAAAAANFY/Q-gQrMMMIywpMPBSBQEi2ruEkayd2E-4wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1544/Someone%2BElse%2527s%2BHouse.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1051" data-original-width="1544" height="436" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C7IRWPKi7E8/YKPvXz8zPkI/AAAAAAAANFY/Q-gQrMMMIywpMPBSBQEi2ruEkayd2E-4wCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h436/Someone%2BElse%2527s%2BHouse.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #757575; font-family: sohne, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">Photo courtesy of Geffen Playhouse.</span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It requires a lot of willpower to not open a slick wooden box with a single letter “J” burned into its top. </span></p></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just a thin string separates me from the secrets of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Someone Else's House</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, a new virtual experience from Geffen Playhouse’s Stayhouse series. But I was instructed not to open the “haunting kit” until I am prompted to do so in the show. Lights are dimmed, curtains pulled down, and the Zoom update is installed: the spooky atmosphere is set. When Jared Mazzochi, the writer and performer for the evening joins the audience (up to 40 households), we all squirm in our seats in anticipation. </span></p></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What Jared is about to tell us is a true story that happened to his family before he was born. In the 80’s, his parents moved into a mansion that was over 200 years old in Enfield, New Hampshire, with their three little kids. What seemed like a great bargain for a large property ended up costing the family much more in psychological damage. Jered’s brother, eight at the time of the move, was scared for his life by the horrifying events that unfolded at the house during the short time the Mazzochis occupied it. Wanting to get to the bottom of it, and hoping to heal the scars of the past, Jared decided to investigate the history of the house and its original dwellers, the Johnson family. </span></p></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Minor spoilers ahead)</span></p></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jered conducted impressive research, recreating the family tree of the Johnsons, which he proudly presented to us, complete with the old black and white photographs of its members. Each of our boxes contains a copy of the family tree so we can follow along with the story. Indeed, it would be difficult to do so without the visual reference - the matriarch and the patriarch, Joseph and Polly, had nine children alone! </span></p></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Completing the dossier are the floor plan with an idyllic etching of the house in the 19th century and a scented candle which all of us light at the beginning (matches are included in the kit). A separate envelope contains five photographs, each audience member has a different set. As Jered leads us along the branches of the Johnson family tree, he calls upon people who have the photos of the certain characters to read their short bios from the back of the cards. This is the most participation required from the audience members, making </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Someone Else's House </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a suitable show for introverts. One can decline speaking by just not holding the photograph up to the screen. The Johnsons were a large family, but there are still duplicates, so the responsibility to introduce a new character is never on a single person.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is, however, required to keep your video on, so we all could hold the space symbolically. The part where Jared shares the results of his investigation at the beginning of the show, happens in gallery mode. There is something haunting in the way the Zoom grid is continued by the row of black and white photographs of the dead people on my desk. One particular woman is staring at me intensely (the cause of death unknown). So does the 13-year-old boy who died after being stung by multiple bees. </span></p></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Somewhat bigger spoilers ahead so I suggest you stop reading if you plan to attend the show)</span></p></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After demonstrating the impressive diorama of Johnson's family tree on his wall, Jared switches locations and we can now see a bit more of this cozy interior. There is a desk with some books on it, a hallway, and an antique wooden chair mounted on the wall. Apparently, this was a practice common in the 18th and 19th century, including among the Shakers, which was a prevalent religious community in the area at the time. I never saw people storing chairs in this way and had to Google it. To me, the “floating chair” looked like a slightly surreal design element visually communicating suspense. The production design of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Someone Else's House </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(by Sibyl Wickersheimer) is full of small and thoughtful details like this one. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As Jared shares more and more from the intertwining stories of two families who occupied the house, the Johnson’s and the Mazzochi’s, strange interference invades the transmission. A glitch in the video or a second-long shot of the overhead view of the room are unobtrusive but they gradually make me feel more and more uneasy. At some point the realization of the inevitability of danger is so tense it can be cut with a knife. But Jared is so into sharing his research with us that he doesn’t pay attention to the lights flickering in the hallway behind him. </span></p></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Without giving away any more I will just say that </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Someone Else's House</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is an interesting experiment of adapting the horror genre to the virtual theatre. The combination of tangible objects and skillful video special effects (by Virtual Design Collective aka VIDCO) unites theatre and film, the living and their ghosts. Perhaps most importantly, Jared Mazzochi, directed by Margot Bordelon, is an engaging storyteller. The faces of the audience members leaning forward, brightened by the glow of their computer screens, feels as if I am listening to a ghost story by the “fire”. </span></p></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Someone Else's House </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">probably won’t make you lose sleep; it is not extreme by any means. Although not without some spooky moments, and a spectacular grand finale, it makes for a pleasant evening. This show was more about connecting through storytelling, than being afraid of each shadow and squeak at your own place. </span></p></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After the show is brought to an end abruptly and I blow out my candle, the peculiar aroma lingers in the air for some time. Not a candle person myself, I didn’t notice how much of the atmosphere of the experience was influenced by its complicated scent. Designed by the Uppercase Candle Company, this little candle smells of bitter herbs, antique furniture, and a campfire. I relish in the familiar yet uncanny combination of smells, letting the ghosts of the Johnson/Mazzochi residence settle and rest for the night. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(This review was published on <a href="http://NoProscenium.com">NoProscenium.com</a> on May 11)<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p></span></span></h3>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-39377731562815807632021-02-21T15:15:00.004-05:002021-02-21T15:15:46.508-05:00‘Posthumous’ Reveals the Corporate Realia of the Digital Afterlife (Review)<h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><i>Participatory drama by Phoenix Tears Productions brings excitement to Zoom </i></span></span></h3><span id="docs-internal-guid-0d82c63d-7fff-f227-bf1c-45457ac897f2"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As much as I am impressed with the technical and artistic advances of virtual theatre in the pandemic age, I’m tired of staring into my computer screen. Nothing beats a live show. I frankly thought I was done with Zoom theatre; that is, until I attended </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Posthumous, </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a remote interactive experience</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">by Orlando-based Phoenix Tears Productions. It turns out that live-streamed performances can feel captivating, dramatic events can be gripping, and even the sickeningly familiar mechanics of Zoom can feel fresh. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bigEnQPLYJ0/YDK-5DS7vGI/AAAAAAAAMPA/gIDL048TSWwVds1s9VMitnB-2CXwXsP7wCLcBGAsYHQ/s700/posthomus.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="437" data-original-width="700" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bigEnQPLYJ0/YDK-5DS7vGI/AAAAAAAAMPA/gIDL048TSWwVds1s9VMitnB-2CXwXsP7wCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h400/posthomus.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some believe that the souls of the deceased go to heaven, but, in the world of </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Posthumous,</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> people have figured out how to upload the consciousnesses of the recently deceased to the cloud. By connecting to the memories of the dead, the leaders of this new industry are able to customize “post-physical existence” and make the experience of the afterlife as pleasant as possible. But what makes the eponymously titled Posthumous corporation stand out from the competition is their environmental ethics. </span><a href="http://www.phoenixtearsproductions.com/posthumouscompany" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The company’s web site</span></a><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> reads: “Posthumous tested and is in the process of patenting ‘Posthumous Power’ an alternative energy that can run the servers of hundreds of afterlives without the depletion of fossil fuels.” The relatives of their deceased clients can find comfort in knowing that their loved ones can spend eternity according to their preferences, all while using clean energy, energy so abundant it can power entire cities. What could possibly go wrong? </span></span></p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;">(Very light spoilers follow.)</span></span></p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Melinda Winter, one season, no ‘s,’” says our supervisor, wearing a bright fuchsia dress with matching lipstick, and laughing loudly at her own joke. I suspect she uses it every time she introduces herself. Along with five other new hires in the Recruitment department, I am sitting at an orientation session (all of the participants in the show have been split up into different corporate departments such as Investors or Recovery). I am instantly annoyed by this overly enthusiastic woman in Recruitment. But I have to pretend I am paying attention to her every word. After all, I need to get to the bottom of what this company is all about. The experience has barely started, but I am</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> a mole</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: I’m on a mission by an outside agency to investigate this suspicious company. (But I won’t reveal any other details about my espionage to avoid additional spoilers.) </span></span></p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;">As the orientation continues, we are told of the responsibilities of the Recruitment department, one of which is to choose people who will get our services pro bono. Ms. Winter introduces the three pro bono candidates with the help of a slide show. We start our discussion as Khadijah Banks, the leader of the company, joins us. In the hopes of finding some corporate secrets, Ms. Banks (Stephanie Rae) tries to persuade us to “plugin” an employee of another, competing afterlife company. Meanwhile, our group is still leaning towards selecting a child as the recipient of free afterlife. As our discussion unfolds, people from our small department conspicuously come and go, being pulled into different breakout rooms on Zoom. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">An entire layer of plot gradually emerges alongside the daily tasks that our team has to perform. Along with the Recruiters track, which I am on, there is a Recovery crew (which deals with the postmortal clients), and an Investors department. Sometimes we cross paths with people from other departments, as well as other employees of Posthumous, and other characters like clients’ family members. On top of occasionally finding myself in a room with somebody else, I am also getting all sorts of weird messages through chat. At some point, it becomes a game: </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">can you message someone without being noticed by Ms. Winter or your teammates?</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> It is difficult to say who is following what agenda. Early on, I find myself enveloped in the conspiracy and enjoy the thrills of the twists and turns it takes. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I found the interactions with all the characters and fellow participants in </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Posthumous </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">deeply engaging. I was pulled aside into a small group as an observer even before easing into the experience, which was a bit strange, but activated my “player” mindset at once. Although there is a lot going on and you can never know when you will be moved to a different room for your next encounter, the plot ends up unfolding nicely, at least from my experience. I was amazed by the precision of the technicians running the show as well as the ability of actors to perform while replying to direct messages simultaneously. Being on one of the three possible tracks, I didn’t spend much time with all twelve characters, but the ones I did interact with were truly amazing. The Recruitment Supervisor, Melinda Winter (Melanie Leon) stormed into our first meeting like a lightning bolt and was able to retain that energy throughout the 90 minute show. (I also later wished I was on a different track to witness this character’s transformation towards the end.) Stephanie Rae (Kadijah Banks) exuded ultimate strength and power, while maintaining a warm and caring facade. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Posthumous</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> would be perfect if only a better onboarding could be added to it. Right now, it is a little muddled. Director Mallory Vance appears first and gives us a short out-of-character forward which, to me, sets the wrong mood for the show. The production design could also be more coherent (some participants used virtual backgrounds, while others didn’t). But those are such minor details in comparison to what the show delivers on that I won’t dwell on them much. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;">Additionally, I really appreciated the space opened up post-show for the participants to discuss what happened, share their experiences, and ask questions of the actors and creators. Providing an opportunity for participants to decompress and to reflect on the consequences of their actions felt like an extra step of aftercare that is often neglected in digital productions. When there are multiple tracks and some things are unclear, being able to compare notes post-factum feels very satisfactory. Virtual theatre can feel alienating, considering you are returning to your daily life without actually leaving it. That’s why having a communal moment in the form of a post-show debrief/vent is even more valuable in a digital format. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Between the strong performances, tech coordination, engaging story, and feeling of player agency (there are about ten different endings to the experience), </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Posthumous</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was a show that rehabilitated Zoom theatre for me. I hardly noticed how much time had passed during the show. </span></span></p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(This review was published on </span><a href="https://noproscenium.com/posthumous-reveals-the-corporate-realia-of-the-digital-afterlife-review-be2cad48fa9b" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">NoProscenium.com</span></a><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> on February 14th, 2021)</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-54137925904505097412020-12-01T06:45:00.007-05:002020-12-01T06:55:35.802-05:00Gentle ‘Hearts of Cranes’ invite you to heal the world <h4 style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></span></h4><h4 style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">Manatsu Tanaka teaches you to fold origami and not to lose hope</span></i></span></h4><span id="docs-internal-guid-5b1c856d-7fff-7c24-00ad-fe1a4bff652a"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I was growing up, origami got very popular amongst my friends at some point. The Japanese art of folding paper was all the craze in my Russian middle school: frogs, boats, and flowers were spilling out of backpacks and pockets. And, of course, cranes. They represented a different side of origami art, aimed not at producing a variety of shapes but devoting oneself to a practice of making a single shape of a crane repeatedly. There is a belief that if you make 1000 cranes your wish will come true. We were told a story about a Japanese girl, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sasaki Sadako,</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> who had leukemia in the aftermath of the radiation after the Hiroshima bombing. She started folding 1000 cranes hoping that her wish to live will be granted. Few hundred cranes in she became too weak to continue and died before her </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">senbazuru</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">literally meaning “1000 cranes”) was completed. </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tASIbAodfVw/X8Yr5H3CyVI/AAAAAAAALxE/2-KpJslV6PAuYRgqmVOsqifPymf5BrXZACLcBGAsYHQ/s1136/IMG_9366.PNG"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="1136" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tASIbAodfVw/X8Yr5H3CyVI/AAAAAAAALxE/2-KpJslV6PAuYRgqmVOsqifPymf5BrXZACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h360/IMG_9366.PNG" title="Manatsu Tanaka as Saki in 'Hearts of Cranes'" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Manatsu Tanaka as Saki in 'Hearts of Cranes'</div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I haven’t folded origami since I was 12. But the memory of this practice is linked for me with the fun of communal activity and sadness of Sasaki Sadako’s story. I am reminded of both feelings at once at </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hearts of Cranes</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, a remote performance piece, produced by You&I theatre company. Manatsu Tanaka, the author, and the actor portraying Saki, guides a single audience member through the process of folding an origami crane while sharing stories and inviting the participant to reflect on the power of wishing, hope, and healing. Landing somewhere in between an origami lesson and a friendly chat, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hearts of Cranes</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is a meditative performance perfect for quieting the anxieties of our trying times. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If not for the repeated consent check-ins (which are not necessary for the most part) I would completely dissolve in this experience, relaxed by the spell of Tanaka’s soft and friendly voice. It might be difficult for a performer to read another person in the Zoom room so a constant verbal temperature check is used. “I want to tell you a story. Is this OK?” Such careful inquiries take me out of the natural flow of the conversation but at the same time make me revise my understanding of consent in immersive theatre. By buying a ticket to a show, what are we really agreeing to?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Don’t worry, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hearts of Cranes</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is not one of those experiences that try the participant’s limits. The most challenging part is to do all the paper folding right. Tanaka is there to guide you through the process patiently and even if you won’t produce the most elegant origami piece, it is what’s in the heart of the crane that is important (you’ll find out more at the show). There is something powerful and beautiful in the simple act of crafting together. It creates an extra plane of connectedness, aided, of course, by technology. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not only is Tanaka a skillful origami master and storyteller, but they are also quite inventive when it comes to manipulating the capabilities of a video call. At one point they scroll a sheet of paper in a tube and put it around the camera, so I can only see their eye. Fun and intimate and maybe a bit intimidating, I can’t believe I haven’t seen this gesture anywhere yet! The performer seamlessly navigates video transitions in simple yet effective ways. It’s easy to forget how demanding performing on Zoom is: not only do you have to maintain contact with the participant but also run your own tech. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As much as I wish for COVID to go away, I will certainly miss the DIY, heartfelt, poetic shows like </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hearts of Cranes. </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I guess I am off to making my 2000 cranes, one thousand for the world to heal, another for the theatre to keep the tenderness and gentle beauty of a folded paper bird. </span></p></span></span>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-88423682388475791502020-11-09T15:06:00.001-05:002020-12-01T06:51:47.240-05:00Manhattan Becomes A Charming, Surreal Montmartre in ‘Voyeur’ (Review)<h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;"><i>Bated Breath makes creative use of pandemic restrictions in a sidewalk promenade show</i></span></span></h3><p class="jf jg gp jh b hn ji jj jk hq jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv jw jx jy jz ka ex cs" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="b2e4" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">I haven’t been to the theatre since March. So I was excited to approach the corner of Christopher Street and 7th Ave to see my first live (non-virtual) show in Manhattan since the beginning of the pandemic, <em class="kb" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Voyeur: The Windows of Toulouse-Lautrec</em>. Conceived and directed by Mara Lieberman and produced by the Bated Breath Theatre Company, this promenade show is a sibling to the site-specific production which ran at the bar Madame X under the title <em class="kb" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Unmaking Toulouse-Lautrec </em>in pre-COVID times. I was worried how the intimacy of a dimly-lit cabaret, with dramatic acting and the theatrical magic of working with props would translate to the mostly outdoor “pandemic-friendly theatrical walking tour,” considering the hustle and bustle of New York City streets, the need to keep social distancing, and that the performers would be masked. I will just briefly say that <em class="kb" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Voyeur: The Windows of Toulouse-Lautrec</em> exceeded my expectations and was successful <em class="kb" style="box-sizing: inherit;">because</em> it embraced the circumstances of our challenging times.</span></p><p class="jf jg gp jh b hn ji jj jk hq jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv jw jx jy jz ka ex cs" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="b2e4" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3kZFuPqQhso/X6mgT5mKPyI/AAAAAAAALok/PXX-iu6cjf8KG1u_oxbZ28HaBFgS44N8gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1000/1_weeJXNZsmqOxe8szkH_bkw.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="666" data-original-width="1000" height="374" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3kZFuPqQhso/X6mgT5mKPyI/AAAAAAAALok/PXX-iu6cjf8KG1u_oxbZ28HaBFgS44N8gCLcBGAsYHQ/w563-h374/1_weeJXNZsmqOxe8szkH_bkw.jpeg" width="563" /></span></a></div><span style="letter-spacing: -0.003em;"><p class="jf jg gp jh b hn ji jj jk hq jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv jw jx jy jz ka ex cs" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="b2e4" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.003em;">I find that Greenwich Village is buzzing on a Friday night in October. Standing in front of the chalk-drawn “Bonjour” on the pavement, the starting place of the tour, I couldn’t stop turning my head in all directions. There are live music and dancing in Christopher Park behind me; dog-walkers, runners, and skate-boarders are taking advantage of the closed-off streets; and outdoor diners are enjoying the last warm days of the season. So when</span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.003em;"> </span><em class="kb" style="box-sizing: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.003em;">Voyeur</em><span style="letter-spacing: -0.003em;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.003em;">began with three actors jumping out from the Duplex bar in front of our small audience of six, and three dancers in colorful and puffy skirts started emerging in the windows of the building, they looked organic in comparison to the hubbub of a busy street corner. Diners stop eating and pull their phones out and passersby are confused, suddenly finding themselves on the “stage” of the show. Suddenly, NYC’s Greenwich Village becomes Parisian Montmartre of the end of the nineteenth century and we are invited to time-travel to the giddy and tragic last years of the legendary French artist, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.</span></span></p></span><p></p><figure class="kc kd ke kf kg fc kh ki kj kk kl km kn ko bf bt kp kq kr ks cg paragraph-image" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); border-style: solid; border-width: 2px; box-sizing: inherit; clear: both; float: left; margin: 56px 30px 16px -150px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; width: 510px;"><div class="ft fu cu fv aj fw" role="button" style="box-sizing: inherit; cursor: zoom-in; position: relative; transition: transform 300ms cubic-bezier(0.2, 0, 0.2, 1) 0s; width: 506px; z-index: auto;" tabindex="0"><div class="ep eq fl" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; max-width: 3600px;"><div class="gb s cu gc" style="background-color: #f2f2f2; box-sizing: inherit; margin: auto; position: relative;"><div class="gd ge s" style="box-sizing: inherit; height: 0px; padding-bottom: 337.328px;"><div class="cq fx t u v fy aj ck fz ga" style="box-sizing: inherit; height: 337.328px; left: 0px; opacity: 0; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; top: 0px; transform: translateZ(0px); transition: opacity 100ms ease 400ms; width: 506px; will-change: transform;"><img alt="Image for post" class="t u v fy aj gf gg aq tm" height="2400" src="https://miro.medium.com/max/60/1*4tn5Am-QbIIYSVGonf6QHw.jpeg?q=20" style="box-sizing: inherit; filter: blur(20px); height: 337.328px; left: 0px; position: absolute; top: 0px; transform: scale(1.1); transition: visibility 0ms ease 400ms; vertical-align: middle; visibility: hidden; width: 506px;" width="3600" /></div><img alt="Image for post" class="qv qw t u v fy aj c" height="2400" sizes="500px" src="https://miro.medium.com/max/3600/1*4tn5Am-QbIIYSVGonf6QHw.jpeg" srcset="https://miro.medium.com/max/276/1*4tn5Am-QbIIYSVGonf6QHw.jpeg 276w, https://miro.medium.com/max/500/1*4tn5Am-QbIIYSVGonf6QHw.jpeg 500w" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; height: 337.328px; left: 0px; opacity: 1; position: absolute; top: 0px; transition: opacity 400ms ease 0ms; vertical-align: middle; width: 506px;" width="3600" /></div></div></div></div></figure><p class="jf jg gp jh b hn ji jj jk hq jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv jw jx jy jz ka ex cs" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="17c0" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">The streets, windows, and doorways of the city serve as a backdrop for a series of dream-like vignettes inspired by Toulouse-Lautrec’s life. Accompanied by Maryia Vasileuskaya playing the violin and Chris Rehmann operating a music box hung on his neck, our procession makes its way through the streets to the melancholy <em class="kb" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Gnossienne №1</em> by Erik Satie. We see the artist’s father (Royston Scott) rehearsing what appears to be a eulogy in front of the mirror in a store window. We meet his mother (Megan Khaziran), an elegant lady atop a monumental skirt which is glowing from the inside and doubling as a screen for shadow puppet theatre. In another flashback scene, the young parents (Marin Orlosky and Ethan Pravetz) dance out their courtship along 8th Street, lit up by the empty picture frame they use as a prop. The swift and playful choreography (by Leila Mire and Kelsey Rondeau with Nate Carter) unfolds as we walk, making use of the architecture, and causing bystanders to turn their heads in perplexity and dogs to bark.</span></p><p class="jf jg gp jh b hn ji jj jk hq jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv jw jx jy jz ka ex cs" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="57b6" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">There are very few spoken words in <em class="kb" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Voyeur</em>, and even those could be reduced further to heighten the hallucination-like atmosphere of the show. The artistic choice also has practical benefits: being able to hear masked actors through environmental noise while staying at a safe distance. (I must admit, there is something haunting in being unable to see the actors’ mouths as words are uttered.) Although interacting with the covered faces has become a new normal for me outside the theatre, encountering it in a performance context gave me chills because of how well it fits into the surreal world of <em class="kb" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Voyeur</em>. Toulouse-Lautrec’s absentee father appears even more estranged, the beloved mother becomes even more unreachable (her six-foot skirt designed by Christopher Metzger certainly contributes to that effect, too). During a romantic dance of the young parents on 7th Street, the masks “spoiled” the idyllic picture, but not without a good reason. The artist’s parents were, after all, first cousins, and Toulouse-Lautrec’s genetic health issues are thought to be due to inbreeding.</span></p><p class="jf jg gp jh b hn ji jj jk hq jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv jw jx jy jz ka ex cs" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="ac13" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">There is also a “peep-show” number in <em class="kb" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Voyeur</em>, which truly elevates the usage of masks from a safety measure to an artistic element by Bated Breath. In this scene, a young woman (Natasha Frater) performs a seductive dance inside the window of the storefront Chashama. But the only item of clothing she teases us with, and eventually strips with, is her facemask. This behind-glass scene is voyeuristic and funny, and yet also … pensive. As the showgirl addresses the audience through the window, in a long, seemingly heartfelt monologue, we can’t hear anything she says. This makes me think of the countless, often nameless dancers and prostitutes Toulouse-Lautrec depicted in his art, provocatively displayed and but also speechless, their stories untold.</span></p><figure class="kc kd ke kf kg fc kh ki kj kk kl km kn ko bf bt kp kq kr ks cg paragraph-image" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); border-style: solid; border-width: 2px; box-sizing: inherit; clear: both; float: left; margin: 56px 30px 16px -150px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; width: 510px;"><div class="ft fu cu fv aj fw" role="button" style="box-sizing: inherit; cursor: zoom-in; position: relative; transition: transform 300ms cubic-bezier(0.2, 0, 0.2, 1) 0s; width: 506px; z-index: auto;" tabindex="0"><div class="ep eq fl" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; max-width: 3600px;"><div class="gb s cu gc" style="background-color: #f2f2f2; box-sizing: inherit; margin: auto; position: relative;"><div class="gd ge s" style="box-sizing: inherit; height: 0px; padding-bottom: 337.328px;"><div class="qv qw t u v fy aj ck fz ga" style="box-sizing: inherit; height: 337.328px; left: 0px; opacity: 1; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; top: 0px; transform: translateZ(0px); transition: opacity 400ms ease 0ms; width: 506px; will-change: transform;"><img alt="Image for post" class="t u v fy aj gf gg gh" height="2400" src="https://miro.medium.com/max/60/1*2R6IkwLosL6A3MCwraBluw.jpeg?q=20" style="box-sizing: inherit; filter: blur(20px); height: 337.328px; left: 0px; position: absolute; top: 0px; transform: scale(1.1); vertical-align: middle; visibility: visible; width: 506px;" width="3600" /></div><img alt="Image for post" class="cq fx t u v fy aj c" height="2400" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; height: 337.328px; left: 0px; opacity: 0; position: absolute; top: 0px; transition: opacity 100ms ease 400ms; vertical-align: middle; width: 506px;" width="3600" /></div></div></div></div></figure><p class="jf jg gp jh b hn ji jj jk hq jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv jw jx jy jz ka ex cs" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="3b6a" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">Additionally, the facemask makes it easier for the puppeteers in the show to perform. Henry Toulouse-Lautrec is present in the production through a puppet designed by James Ortiz. The artist’s greyish face contains deeply cut lines and eyes narrowed by either pain, absinthe intoxication, or, perhaps, both. He drunkenly dances on a large pallet, climbs his mother’s skirt, or squirms on his deathbed without the puppeteer’s moving mouth drawing the attention away from him.</span></p><p class="jf jg gp jh b hn ji jj jk hq jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv jw jx jy jz ka ex cs" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="8dfe" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;"><em class="kb" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Voyeur </em>effectively plays with scale, contrasting the intimacy of the puppet theatre with its spectacular opening, which uses the entire facade of a building, or with the vast emptiness of the mostly empty Judson Church (the action briefly moves inside for the finale). Bated Breath are able to create a majestic show while making sure every audience member feels safe: there is always an opportunity to keep social distancing, hand sanitizer is provided, and even cute branded masks are offered for sale upon check-in.</span></p><p class="jf jg gp jh b hn ji jj jk hq jl jm jn jo jp jq jr js jt ju jv jw jx jy jz ka ex cs" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="f2e8" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">Safely hidden behind my mask, I can’t stop beaming with joy while chasing the show’s dancers down the street. I regularly forget to “pick up” my dropped jaw in astonishment of the beauty of sounds and sights surrounding me on the streets of Greenwich Village. <em class="kb" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Voyeur: The Windows of Toulouse-Lautrec, </em>through its many thoughtful details, immerses me in a world where the past and the present, fantasy and reality, and tragedy and hope interlace in a beautiful, shimmering flow. </span></p><h2 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; text-align: left; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">(This review was published on <a href="http://NoProscenium.com"><span style="color: black;">NoProscenium.com</span></a> on October 27th)</span></h2>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-69623729433142045182020-09-17T22:02:00.002-04:002020-12-01T06:52:20.685-05:00‘The Homes We Build’ Questions Our Notion of Family (Review)<p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;"><i>Twin Alchemy’s LARP for two explores love and life-long commitment</i></span></span></p><p class="kt ku ik kv b jd kw kx ky jg kz la lb lc ld jl le lf lg jo lh li lj jr lk ll hj cp" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="c225" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #292929; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">I have already forgotten the innocent sweetness of “playing house” in kindergarten. By using tree leaves as “money” to pay for the “groceries,” “baking” sand cakes and decorating them with dandelions, and tucking “kids” to sleep under the tall elm that served as a bedroom in our imaginary house, we did everything we saw adults do and strove to recreate our own perfect nuclear family.</span></p><p class="kt ku ik kv b jd kw kx ky jg kz la lb lc ld jl le lf lg jo lh li lj jr lk ll hj cp" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="c225" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #292929; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="423" data-original-width="700" height="386" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q0z1Zsy8e88/X2QUrWWMFdI/AAAAAAAALUs/Wb3ckGmp_mgQhtLIQzlfrJBnQJkf3013gCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h386/homes.jpeg" width="640" /></span></div><p></p><p class="kt ku ik kv b jd kw kx ky jg kz la lb lc ld jl le lf lg jo lh li lj jr lk ll hj cp" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="692f" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #292929; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">In some sense, <em class="lm" style="box-sizing: inherit;">The Homes We Build</em> by Austin-based Twin Alchemy Collective invites its participants to revisit this childhood activity, only with all the cultural and experiential baggage we’ve acquired as adults. This interactive, participatory experience is a role-playing game in which two people relive a 60-year relationship over the duration of four hours. They can be themselves or create characters, using a questionnaire that the creators of the experience—Katie Green, Sean Moran, and Michael Rau—have included in the orientation package.</span></p><p class="kt ku ik kv b jd kw kx ky jg kz la lb lc ld jl le lf lg jo lh li lj jr lk ll hj cp" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="44b6" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #292929; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;"><em class="lm" style="box-sizing: inherit;">The Homes We Build</em> starts with the orientation package, a long and thoroughly constructed PDF, which is emailed to the participants in advance. I would like to emphasize how well it is designed, as it made me feel safe and cared for for the duration of the entire journey. It covers every question I could think of, starting with props that will be needed (nothing extravagant), safety and consent guidelines, worksheets for creating characters from scratch, and ending with a questionnaire to facilitate safe off-boarding and reflection on what happened. The experience itself is self-guided and there is an MP3 file that comes with the bundle. It can be completed in one session or multiple sessions.</span></p><p class="kt ku ik kv b jd kw kx ky jg kz la lb lc ld jl le lf lg jo lh li lj jr lk ll hj cp" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="0e54" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #292929; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">For those who would like to clarify something or generally receive the information better aurally, there is a Zoom meeting preceding the experience. Sean Moran and Michael Rau go over the orientation file and answer participants’ questions. Attendance is optional; however, it is helpful in terms of highlighting the importance of details that can be missed in a quick skim of the initial document. Seeing two of the three authors of <em class="lm" style="box-sizing: inherit;">The Homes We Build </em>on the screen<em class="lm" style="box-sizing: inherit;"> </em>also created an additional level of trust, and <em class="lm" style="box-sizing: inherit;">trust</em> is key in LARP. You have to trust the other person enough to go through such an intimate experience and for <em class="lm" style="box-sizing: inherit;">The Homes We Build</em> you have to be physically in the same space. Luckily, I didn’t have to search long in my quarantine bubble before I was able to enlist my friend Natalia to play my other half. So, armed with a coin, a rolled-up sock, a trashcan, and a few other props, we ventured into a new life as “Chris” and “Nora” by pressing “play” on the audio player.</span></p><p class="kt ku ik kv b jd kw kx ky jg kz la lb lc ld jl le lf lg jo lh li lj jr lk ll hj cp" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="0ad0" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #292929; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">A placid male voice comes in after the sound of a meditation chime. The narrator acts as a sort of director, describing various situations, voicing the thoughts of our characters, and giving prompts for improvisation. He also tells us how much time we have for a scene. <em class="lm" style="box-sizing: inherit;">The Homes We Build </em>consists of a couple dozen of vignettes, each a glimpse into the lives of two people in a romantic relationship. The journey together appropriately starts with the first date, the scene to which the longest period of time is allocated. Understandable, since both of us need not only to find out everything we want to know about the other person, but also to find out who our characters are and slip into a new skin. The awkwardness of the first date layers perfectly on the awkwardness of the beginning of the LARP. But you would be surprised how quickly the transition to a full relationship happens. By the end of the 25-minute “snapshot” of our first meeting, I could literally feel the butterflies in the stomach of my character, Nora, who was falling for her new guy.</span></p><p class="kt ku ik kv b jd kw kx ky jg kz la lb lc ld jl le lf lg jo lh li lj jr lk ll hj cp" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="6f04" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #292929; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">Some prompts are only meant for one pair of our ears and we have to toss a coin to determine who will possess information that the other one doesn’t have. I found these moments in <em class="lm" style="box-sizing: inherit;">The Homes We Build </em>to be the most fruitful in terms of improvising a scene together. There was one vignette where I was offered a choice of three situations that lead my character into a certain state of mind. That narrative fork felt like a relief after being told what is happening to me by the experience. As much as my character wanted control over her life, I, as a player, wanted to take some authorial control and to challenge the character, to build her arc as well as as embody her reactions. As the player, I was given a chance to be creative with how the story unfolds. But as a character, I got to make my own decisions ( right or wrong) and not just react to the circumstances that were handed over to me by the almighty “playwright.” I wish there were more instances like this, yet, there were limitations to that creative license.</span></p><p class="kt ku ik kv b jd kw kx ky jg kz la lb lc ld jl le lf lg jo lh li lj jr lk ll hj cp" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="66e6" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #292929; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">The experience of going through <em class="lm" style="box-sizing: inherit;">The Homes We Build </em>is likely to be unique to every twosome of players. (I also enjoyed how Twin Alchemy Collective incorporated physical touch into the experience but don’t want to give away any spoilers.) Despite the pre-existing script, we each bring our own baggage and fantasies to the experience, which might bring forth different aspects of it. Along the way come topics of trust, responsibility, commitment, caregiving, and death.Going through scenes indicating relationship milestones of various significance and scale evoked a lot of emotions in me. Living through happy occasions, trying times, and everyday moments together mostly felt very real but, occasionally, it was puzzling and pushed me out of the experience.</span></p><p class="kt ku ik kv b jd kw kx ky jg kz la lb lc ld jl le lf lg jo lh li lj jr lk ll hj cp" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="c63b" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #292929; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">It felt like the characters that we had created, an asexual trans male and a cisgender female, were shoe-horned into the paradigm of a heteronormative relationship. The experience’s creators didn’t set limits on who we dreamed up but the scenarios they gave us didn’t really take gender and sexual fluidity into account. We might be discussing how the institute of marriage means very little to us, and then, in the next scene, we would be asked to say our wedding vows by the LARP. We could be talking about focusing on our careers for a while and not having kids, and then next prompt joyously announces that we are pregnant (or had gotten a green light on adoption). For myself and my friend, in order to keep up with the development of the story that somebody had already pre-written for us, we had to really stretch our imaginations. Spoiler: that’s how we ended up with going parachute jumping instead of a wedding and an adopted son who was practically left on our stoop. As my LARP partner noticed, “Sometimes things just <em class="lm" style="box-sizing: inherit;">happen</em>.”</span></p><p class="kt ku ik kv b jd kw kx ky jg kz la lb lc ld jl le lf lg jo lh li lj jr lk ll hj cp" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="6ffe" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #292929; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">But both my character and I were outraged by how control over one’s body and personal life can get snatched from you in an experience like this, especially for non-conforming subjects. This might be read simultaneously as both the flaw of the experience (I felt like I am being forced to do something I don’t want to do) and its biggest success (in a very dramatic way, I faced the pressure marginalized others feel in real life). Learning not only about yourself, but also getting closer to understanding the experience of the “other” is precious.</span></p><p class="kt ku ik kv b jd kw kx ky jg kz la lb lc ld jl le lf lg jo lh li lj jr lk ll hj cp" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="eefd" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #292929; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">After all, isn’t that what art is about?</span></p><p class="kt ku ik kv b jd kw kx ky jg kz la lb lc ld jl le lf lg jo lh li lj jr lk ll hj cp" data-selectable-paragraph="" id="eefd" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #292929; letter-spacing: -0.003em; line-height: 32px; margin: 2em 0px -0.46em; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">(This review was published on <a href="https://noproscenium.com/the-homes-we-build-questions-our-notion-of-family-review-e6c3b6606585">NoProscenium.com</a> on 9.11.10)</span></p><div><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><p><span face="medium-content-sans-serif-font, "Lucida Grande", "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Sans", Geneva, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #757575; font-size: 24px; font-style: inherit;"><br /></span></p>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-52171147718396959762020-07-31T15:58:00.004-04:002020-12-01T06:53:46.193-05:00‘The Delegation’ Reminds Us of the Power of the People (Review)<span id="docs-internal-guid-e1ded0a9-7fff-a9c1-ee42-44c1cd49e930"><font face="helvetica" size="5"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Coney puts Russians and Brits into a virtual hotel for a diplomatic treaty </i></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I wanna be in the room where it happens.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is a sentiment expressed by the character of Aaron Burr in the musical </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hamilton</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> but is also a desire familiar to many people. But what if there is no single room where a small group of powerful people determines the fate of the world? What if there are, in fact, many rooms in which decisions are made daily and it’s the summation of them that constitutes an outcome? </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZOMDw6RTz4k/XyR3c5o56tI/AAAAAAAALLU/HMdG9XXbhaQkmWzO7LLVO4MVwMjLaB0uACLcBGAsYHQ/s500/Zajez%2Bhotel.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="253" data-original-width="500" height="324" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZOMDw6RTz4k/XyR3c5o56tI/AAAAAAAALLU/HMdG9XXbhaQkmWzO7LLVO4MVwMjLaB0uACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h324/Zajez%2Bhotel.png" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Delegation</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, an interactive virtual experience by the British company Coney, looks into the power distribution of pandemic capitalism on the international arena. To do that, the director Tassos Stevens has created a virtual hotel, “Hotel Zajets,” where he acts as a concierge/moderator during a convening of two diplomatic delegations. The audience members (numbering a little over 30 participants on the day I attended) are assembled into delegations of two countries, Russia and the UK. The experience was a part of the International Summer Festival of Art’s The Access Point, a platform for site-specific and immersive work taking place in Russia and all over the world, online. As an attendee of this festival, I find myself as part of the Russian delegation.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We, the delegates, are encouraged to “check-in” via the hotel’s web site before our scheduled Zoom meeting. Among other things, I am asked to select a room number, think of my favorite word in my mother tongue, and choose a song to represent my country. The songs will be played later during time set aside for socializing and our favorite words will be offered as a prompt to strike up conversation during more intimate hangouts at the virtual bar. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Although the Zoom-based Hotel Zajets has no depiction of its interiors, its bare-bones design provides the delegates with all the expected facilities. On Zoom, there is a common space for official business, breakout rooms for deliberations, and the hotel bar for more intimate gatherings. These “quarters” are regulated by the moderators of the experience and the participants are simply moved from one room to the other at the appropriate time. In addition to Zoom, there are some parts of the hotel which the participants can use freely, namely the Conference Center hosted on a separate web-based platform with a mysterious Diamond suite guarded by a passcode. In addition to these tools, there are a couple of Google Docs to which the participants can contribute and a WhatsApp channel for those who seek an alternative way to communicate. And simultaneous audio translation to both Russian and English is available during the official program to all. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The imaginary grounds of the game property are vast and the program is packed. We have “three days and nights”-worth of activities (which comes to nearly two and a half hours in real-time). The main agenda of each of the three days is to divide a certain amount of points between the two countries. Each delegation is split in two parts, North and South, for working out the best strategy for each round and over the long run. Every day after the strategizing session, Russia North meets with the UK North to negotiate, as do their Southern colleagues. At the final stage, everybody comes together and, after building up suspense, the score is announced. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Although the main agenda of this game appears to be that of diplomacy, dividing an arbitrary number of points seems suspiciously superficial to me right away, especially without any correlation with the real world. The moderator of our group assures us that these are just points, and, if we wish, we can assign them some meaning. But with such an oblique set of instructions, how can you not become suspicious of your fellow delegates, or the representatives from the UK, or even the conference organizers? The seemingly transparent design of the game screams of conspiracy to me. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even when I am left alone in my “hotel” room every night, I can’t shake off my paranoia. After each day of lectures, deliberations, and mingling, the delegates are offered to shut the door to their room by turning off their camera; we each listen to an audio track in solitude. These mini contemplative sessions are a nice counterbalance to the highly interactive and occasionally intense main body of the experience. The recordings are also used to reinforce the suspicion and to pour some oil on the flames of secrecy. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You are alone in your room. Or are you? What will you do if somebody tries to reach out? </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are also informal interactions at the hotel bar in small groups of three or four people every evening. We receive prompts for these sessions, some quite innocent sounding (our favorite words in our languages), some potentially heated (opinions on how your respective governments are managing the pandemic). Depending on who is in the room, these icebreaking chats can be very awkward or heartfelt, just like in real life. The synchronous live language interpretation that is provided during the official events of the day is absent here, so the delegates are left to figure out the language barrier on their own. I enjoyed these pockets of total improvisation in the otherwise structured game. The participants were free to continue talking about work, use the given prompts, or just talk about whatever they want. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(A few minor spoilers follow.)</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As we soon find out, the game itself allows for some radical creativity coming from the participants, if that’s what your delegation chooses to explore. I won’t give away any spoilers or go much deeper into any detail, but towards the third round of dividing points my group (Russia North) decides that we are through with the meaningless activity of dividing points, and propose to our British colleagues (UK North) an action of solidarity with those who are repressed by our governments. It might sound like an idea coming out of the blue in my retelling of it, but there is a point in the experience where the program takes a sharp political turn. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Soon, nearly everybody else joins in and the points are forgotten. We are reminded that our actions in the world of the game might have consequences in our lives, and it’s up to us to make it happen. Unfortunately, the big reveal in </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Delegation </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">lands a little flat because of our political activism and only confirms the same conclusion that we the participants came to collectively: that power is distributed into many hands and it’s up to us to use it for the right cause. Rather than speculating about some room where all decisions are being made by others, we should take charge and seek to make “the room where it happens” our own. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(This review was published on <a href="https://noproscenium.com/the-delegation-reminds-us-of-the-power-of-the-people-review-3eb18cd238a">NoProscenium.com</a> on 7/31/20) </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p></font></span>Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-48634757633556576842020-06-25T15:14:00.000-04:002020-06-25T15:14:18.511-04:00'To My Distant Love’ Serenades Us Over the Phone (Review)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A most intimate opera invites you to fall in love from afar</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">NYC’s On Site Opera has been challenging the proscenium setting, traditionally associated with this art, since 2012. The company has produced site-specific work at the Bronx Zoo, the Astor Chinese Garden Court at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and at the Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen, among other unexpected venues. In their new remote production of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To My Distant Love</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, a one-on-one live telephone experience, the audience member is invited to choose their own setting. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Where would you take a call from your long-distance beloved? In your favorite armchair by the window, at your desk, or maybe during a walk? </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Making this decision already feels like an act of co-creating the piece, especially since this responsibility is bestowed upon you from the company whose entire artistic premise is to base the production on a specific location. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Inspired by making the creative choice of the location for </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To My Distant Love</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, I head to the local park. I sit on a bench, allowing the sounds and smells of the environment to sink in. I pull out my phone and re-read two letters from my beloved, one sent to me the day before, the other one, two hours before the scheduled call. The letters are brief but full of tenderness and longing. They include the English translations of </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f141e; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Beethoven’s </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f141e; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">An die Ferne Geliebte </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f141e; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(“</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">to the distant beloved”) song cycle. I read the translated poetry of </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f141e; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Alois Isidor Jeitteles once more</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to tune into the feelings of anxious anticipation of reuniting with a loved one. The first couplet reads: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I sit on the hill, gazing </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Out into the misty blue land,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Toward the distant fields, seeking the place</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Where I first saw you, my beloved.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I lift my gaze towards the Manhattan skyline, made to look like an impressionist painting by blue haze. Living in New Jersey, I haven’t been to my favorite city in nearly three months and can fully relate to the yearning of a separated lover. As I admire the city, so seemingly distant but so close to my heart, my phone rings. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Darling, is that really you?” says the voice on the other end. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A brief dialogue follows </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f141e; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">in which I improvise my replies about how much I miss seeing my beloved. The interaction feels effortless thanks to the warmth radiated by </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jennifer Zetlan’s voice. But I can feel that my beloved is anxious to share her songs with me, which she says she wrote to keep me company while we are apart, and we move to music after a short prelude. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Depending on the date and time of your personal performance, you might be connected with Jennifer Zetlan, soprano, or Mario Diaz-Moresco, baritone. David Shimoni and Spencer Myer, respectively, play the piano. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Six songs of the cycle are sung in the original German and follow each other in a seamless flow. A sweet monologue in English (</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f141e; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">by Monet Hurst-Mendoza) reminiscing on our anniversary celebration is added to reinforce the personal connection to the songs. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #0f141e; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, the singing, the most anticipated part of this 20-minute experience, was mostly disappointing. And not for a lack of talent by the performer. It quickly became apparent to me how unfitting phone technology is at carrying musical nuances. I made sure to use noise-canceling headphones and we tested the connection during our dialogue in the beginning, and everything worked just fine. But as soon as we transitioned to music, the connection started lagging. It sounded to me like as the singer got farther away from the microphone her voice became a bit robotic, distorted by the phone and the acoustics of the space she was in, kind of like when you are talking to somebody in speaker mode. The specific qualities of the sound over the phone I perceived as normal during the dialogue felt disturbing during the musical part. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The digital format of our new virtual theatre is especially cruel to music-based live performances, twisting and distorting beautiful voices and virtuosic instrument playing. Luckily, the premise of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To My Distant Love</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> gave me firm ground to stand upon and still enjoy the performance. After all, my beloved was calling me on the phone and I could clearly hear her giving her best to serenade me. I closed my eyes and let myself be taken by the songs, no matter the imperfect audio quality. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To My Distant Love </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is grand and intimate at once, much like love itself. There is something spectacular in combining the monumental sound of opera singing with the intimacy of a phone call. I only wish the technology would cooperate. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f141e; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(This review was published on </span><a href="https://noproscenium.com/to-my-distant-love-serenades-us-over-the-phone-review-5ef24f707f9d" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">NoProscenium</span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f141e; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> on June 24th)</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-87202861130892637922020-05-26T18:05:00.000-04:002020-05-26T18:05:35.673-04:00Review: "The Corona Variations" Mimics Real Life Too Closely<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The set of short plays amplifies frustrations of the present moment</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When art gets too close to real life, it becomes a bit unsettling. This was my main insight after my encounter with </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Corona Variations</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, a phone experience produced by the Toronto-based Convergence Theatre. The piece consists of six short (about 10 minutes each) “phone plays,” delivered to one audience member, or one household, over the course of one evening, one every half an hour. In some of them, you eavesdrop on other people’s phone conversations. In others, you participate by reading from a script (which is sent in advance). </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZdSlzC6Ur8o/Xs2SlLYNNPI/AAAAAAAAKXE/YygQTXXE3v8Bo85zNfM9F5pDIqhzCmGlQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/corona%2Bvariations.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="933" data-original-width="1400" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZdSlzC6Ur8o/Xs2SlLYNNPI/AAAAAAAAKXE/YygQTXXE3v8Bo85zNfM9F5pDIqhzCmGlQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/corona%2Bvariations.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Among the assorted vignettes: the ways high school students navigate social life while self-isolating; a blind phone date; a secret affair; a broken marriage; and a sisterly squabble. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Corona Variations </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">tries its best to counterbalance the emotionally loaded scenes with comedic moments, but a thick cloud of melancholy hangs heavily over even the most cheerful jokes. Some of the characters are loosely connected between the plays, but the real connection between all of them is the mutual experience of being stuck in one’s home at the moment and in the tiring uncertainty of the coronavirus pandemic. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The interactive parts of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Corona Variations</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> are designed with a reserved audience member in mind, meaning that the improvisation is minimal; for the most part, I just listened or read my dialogue as written from the provided script. What would normally be perceived as a relief (I rarely enjoy the spotlight) felt like a cruel limitation to me and sent me further down a dismal spiral. Some of the other remote experiences that I have done lately have shown how magical and intimate “one-on-one”s over the phone can be. Reading the words that didn’t resonate with me while being not in character felt more like lying. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My first conversation is with Jean, a 72-year-old woman who lives alone. By the time I picked up the phone, she had already spent about three hours on hold for a “Tele-Therapy” hotline and is now relying on me, a “specialist” who is supposedly equipped to provide an express fix-up. I have the script for the conversation in hand, and, unwilling to “break” the experience, I proceed with reading the damn lines, trying to convey as much compassion with my voice as I can. Intellectually, I know I’m talking to an actress on the other end. But somehow it doesn’t make the tough conversation easier. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And, in the end, I don’t think my effort makes any difference and I was left confused about what this short play is supposed to evoke. How Jean and (other single elderly people like her) are able to find a moment of bliss in baking and watching funny videos? Pity for the mental health practitioners who are experiencing an immense work overload and have to turn to pre-written scripts in order to accommodate as many people as possible during shortened sessions? It is easier to shake off the distress during the plays that keep the fourth wall up, but less so with the ones where I get to play a part. And the situations in which I find myself during </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Corona Variations</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> are painfully close to real life. And it makes me angry that—even in the world of fiction—I feel that I am unable to make a difference. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I also realize that the 20-minute intermissions between phone calls contributes greatly to my dissatisfaction with this experience. Left with no guidance on how to spend the in-between time, and feeling the familiar pressure of being “productive” while waiting, I busy myself with daily tasks. I read the NY Times’ updates on the lockdown. I write to my sister-in-law with condolences for a friend she lost to COVID-19. I get a text from a friend about her unsatisfactory online date. I go to the kitchen to make some tea and hear my mother-in-law on the phone with her lover, who was about to sneak out of his marital house. I feel like my life could be this show. Anybody’s life can, these days. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One’s inner state can affect the perception of artwork greatly. It is true especially now when we can’t escape our life circumstances, housing situations, and shifting moods. In real life, I am unable to contact my elderly friend who lives alone; this fact couldn’t </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">not</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> affect my interaction with Jean. And if normally I am able to process parallels like this internally and not drag my entire self into my reviews, I found it especially challenging with </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Corona Variations.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Nothing “horrible” happens in these plays, but their close proximity to the reality around me, the structure that prompts the “productive” waiting and limitations in my agency (save for one scene) makes the overall experience disconcerting. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I would be happy to hear that somebody else’s experience with </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Corona Variations </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is uplifting and reassuring. There was a glimmer of light at the end of the experience, true. But it is not enough to rescue me from the vast darkness that our world feels like by my last phone call. It’s great that Convergence Theatre decided to take a stab at a timely topic and engaged with their audiences despite the social distancing limitations. However, the company missed the mark in both the format and the tone. They say misery loves company, but, evidently, it’s not enough to commiserate together. My hope is that we can be more mindful of what kind of “company” we provide others—both in making art and in our everyday interactions. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">(This review was published on <a href="https://noproscenium.com/the-corona-variations-mimics-real-life-too-closely-review-99e65c080819">NoProscenium.com</a> on May 26)</span></span></div>
Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-60502637058382273302020-04-30T22:54:00.001-04:002020-04-30T22:54:37.944-04:00Review: ‘The Ministry of Mundane Mysteries’ Uncovers a Sense of Wonder<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A serial phone adventure made about, and for, a single person: you</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A while ago on a subway, I saw an ad for personalized children’s books that insert a child’s name into the narrative to make a kid the main character of the story he or she reads. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How in tune with the times where experience design becomes increasingly personalized</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, I thought. But also, how cool that must feel to be the main character of a fairy tale that somebody wrote for and about you! I kind of felt like a kid reading one of those books during the week that </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Ministry of Mundane Mysteries</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was unfolding: excited, surprised, overjoyed. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sebastien “Inspector” Heins. Photo by Dasha Peregoudova</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Produced by Outside the March, Toronto-based immersive theatre company, this highly personalized and improvised adventure is a series of daily phone calls, each about 10 minutes long. A personal mundane mystery that you submit at the beginning of the experience is investigated by the Ministry and your job is to provide honest information when called upon. But what mundane mystery to choose? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why is my unemployment status pending? Will I lose all of my summer gigs? When will I be able to see my family? </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Those are just some of the mysteries on the tip of my tongue, but looking through the </span><a href="https://www.mundanemysteries.com/faq" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">FAQ</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (which is hilarious to read by itself), I got the impression that </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Ministry of Mundane Mysteries </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">wouldn’t be interested in any of these. Socks missing their partner wouldn’t work either, the company explicitly said that the Ministry is “socked out” on their FAQ. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What can it be then? </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My gaze turned to two pots of soil on my window sill with sprouts in them. You see, I planted hot pepper seeds recently but only in one of them. The other one was empty but now has a mystery plant growing in it. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bingo!</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> And so the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"The Case of the Adjacent Hot Peppers" was opened. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On Monday, I received a phone call from Inspector Curry (Shannon Currie) assigned to my case, a bubbly and excitable woman, in whose company I felt at ease right away. She casually asked me about my papers, my household, and my lifestyle while collecting the information regarding my case and hence the material for my personalized adventure. From that initial conversation and a follow-up interview, characters sprung up that were so amusing and hilarious that it was hard to control my laughter during the daily calls. I eagerly waited for my call at 6:30pm every day with great anticipation, having no idea who would be on the line and what new twist the case of the adjacent peppers might take!</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On Tuesday, Tomas Green (Colin Doyle) called me in great secrecy to share that something similar happened to him; a cucumber vine was growing in his English ivy plant. He struck me as an honest, somewhat shy, and curious person, so I had no problem sharing my deepest thoughts about flora with him. After a 10-minute hearty conversation, we decided that some sort of hopping seed conspiracy is going on and we just happened to be hosts for some of the rebellious plants. The next day a woman (Sheri Godda) called from a company that manufactures and delivers fertilizer. With the dexterity of a skilled salesperson, she got my story and my stance on the hopping seed theory, only to eventually reveal herself as Rose Pip, a VP of marketing and Brand Awareness of the Federation of Seeds and Seed Planters and to scold me for spreading dirty rumors! Our entire conversation was a seesaw of hostility, flattery, threats, and genuine respect, all very stimulating, I must note. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Over the next three days, I chatted more with Inspector Curry as the case turned suspenseful and mysterious. I also encountered the most bizarre and grotesque character, Dr. Vladislav Luget (Jonathan Shaboo), the head chemist from the Little Squirrel Chocolate labs (earlier that week, in the conversation with Inspector Curry I reported Little Squirrel to be the last chocolate I ate). In his heavy Russian accent, he conveyed to me that, as part of an aggressive marketing campaign, a small dose of an addictive hallucinogen had been added to the chocolate, which made people see visions of tiny plants and sometimes tiny squirrels. As an apology for the inconvenience, the company was offering a three-month supply of Little Squirrel chocolates. With hallucinogens in them, of course. At this point, I was practically rolling on the floor laughing. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Ministry of Mundane Mysteries </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is one of a few experiences where spoilers are nearly impossible since it is tailored to the circumstances of each participant, so don’t worry that the detailed account of my case will ruin your own journey. However, I will hold on to the finale, but will just mention that the ending was as hilarious and satisfying as the rest of the mystery. Did it </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">really</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> explain how a single sprout got into a pot where nothing was planted? Not quite. But it hardly matters anymore. More importantly, I was able to get a break from my “real life” worries and to live in a fantasy where anything is possible. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Every minute of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Ministry of Mundane Mysteries</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was engaging and every call was a surprise. All the actors were very responsive to my ideas and improvised wonderfully, no matter how tricky my questions were. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Using accents as comical props, the cast created a world where I couldn’t be sure what was true and what was just a game of imagination.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I felt like the star of my own fairytale detective story. It was magical to see how the tiniest, most mundane details of my life were re-shuffled and made into an exciting narrative of mystery, romance, and hallucinogenic Russian candy. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">_____________</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(This review was published on </span><a href="https://noproscenium.com/the-ministry-of-mundane-mysteries-uncovers-a-sense-of-wonder-review-9273a61a1978" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">noproscenium.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">)</span></span></div>
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Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-42504174275658384332020-04-15T11:09:00.001-04:002020-04-15T11:09:27.251-04:00Review: ‘The Girl On The Phone’ Gives Players The Chance to Be a Hero<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">An over-the-phone adventure by Sinking Ship Creations </span></i></span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-b5e44dc3-7fff-542d-f799-d86ff52f0bfc" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I often feel powerless during these days of the COVID-19 pandemic. Besides the passive and protective measures I take, there is not much else I can do. It feels like the entire world is standing still, anxiously waiting for what each new day will bring. Luckily, we have modern technology and ancient techniques of storytelling as well as restless creative minds to combine the two. Today, especially, I am thrilled to see immersive theatre finding new ways to connect to audiences: to entertain, to challenge, to comfort, and to empower. One of those on the front lines of digital theatre in times of “Corona” is Sinking Ship Creations, who are currently producing <a href="https://www.sinkingshipcreations.com/phone">three new over-the-phone adventures</a>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Girl On The Phone</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, created by Sinking Ship co-producer and LARP writer, Betsy Isaacson (who you may know from </span><a href="https://newshownewyork.blogspot.com/2018/12/review-escape-from-marseilles.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Escape from Marseilles</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">) is not heavy on roleplaying; in this one-on-one remote experience, I am basically myself. At the pre-arranged start time, I receive a badly mistyped text mistyped (there is clearly no autocorrect on this phone) asking me for help. Irene, the girl on the other end, and I don’t know each other. But she’s happened to find a phone in the place of her entrapment and it has my number on it. She is afraid to contact the authorities because she was kidnapped by the corrupted police of Caracas, or some people dressed as the police. But I found out all of this information later, over the course of our 66-minute encounter. First, we have to get her out of her handcuffs. Or should I first make sure she is who she says she is? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My head is spinning as Irene is trying to type messages to me with her hands handcuffed. Every pause is filled with tension as, from what I understand, she could be caught at any minute of our dangerous journey. There are no blinking dots to indicate that somebody is typing on the other end and no sign of my last message being received. Every line of interaction can potentially become the last time I hear from Irene, so I have to be quick on my feet. I feel as if I have a real thriller on my fingertips. The timing of the texts is very well-paced, as the pregnant pauses let my imagination run wild. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Did she make it? Did my plan work?</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I am on the edge of my seat, nervously staring at my phone. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When Irene finally has a chance to call me, I hear the voice of a sweet young girl, scared out of her mind. I don’t blame her. Jennifer Suter, who portrays Irene, is incredibly convincing. The sound design, created by the actress herself, is spot on. From the kind of long-distance-call effect provided by old cell phones to the sounds of the surroundings, the picture of what is going on on the other end is quite vivid. Background noises make picturing locations easy and help to envelop me in the story, it definitely added a realistic flair to the production. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I will refrain from revealing any more of our adventure to avoid spoiling your experience with </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Girl on the Phone</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. It is possible that your story will take a different course depending on your actions. Like with any interactive experience, a lot depends on your involvement. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Girl On The Phone </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is engaging and thrilling. It’s easy to fall into the storyworld thanks to Suter’s skillful and barely noticeable “back leading,” a skill of pulling the participant deep into the action which appears on the surface as participant’s initiative but is actually scripted story. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For me, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Girl On The Phone</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was an equally nerve-racking and heartfelt journey. Without fully putting on the mask of a fictional character, I still had to perform multiple roles: that of a crisis specialist, negotiator, interpreter, navigator, and, lastly, friend. In a way, it felt like Irene and I became friends over the course of the hour we spent communicating. Overcoming a struggle together tends to bring people closer together, and shows like </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Girl On The Phone</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> are exactly what the world needs right now. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(This review was published on </span><a href="https://noproscenium.com/the-girl-on-the-phone-gives-players-the-chance-to-be-a-hero-review-c2d4e1eb8ed" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">NoProscenium.com</span></a><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> on April 15th) </span></span></div>
Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-40245848316803634302020-04-11T11:52:00.000-04:002020-05-21T12:39:33.504-04:00Review: “Play In Your Bathtub” and “Life on Earth”: the immersive and digital theatre in the time of social distancing.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Play In Your Bathtub” and “Life on Earth”: the immersive and digital theatre in the time of social distancing. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Like many of us during the COVID-19 quarantine, I am nostalgic for the times when we could go to the theater and socialize freely. But at the same time I am thrilled by the response of the artistic community: even under the challenging conditions of physical isolation theatre is being created and it finds its audience across many digital platforms. Take This is Not a Theatre Company, for instance. It has produced not one, but two shows meant to be enjoyed remotely: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Play In Your Bathtub: An Immersive Audio Spa For Physical Distancing </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Life on Earth.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The New-York based company usually produces site-specific pieces and has taken their audiences to a cafe, Staten Island Ferry and a pool. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XuYTp4ZEHMg/XpHnBYZQvkI/AAAAAAAAKPc/MZqsIxdrIwMpICH3GzEhUWuo4znkOkk-ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Play%2Bin%2Byour%2Bbathtub.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XuYTp4ZEHMg/XpHnBYZQvkI/AAAAAAAAKPc/MZqsIxdrIwMpICH3GzEhUWuo4znkOkk-ACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Play%2Bin%2Byour%2Bbathtub.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0a0a0a; font-family: "playfair display" , "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">This is Not a Theatre Company's production of "Play in Your Bathtub" is meant to be enjoyed from your bath in the comfort of your own home.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I vividly remember the first production of the company that I attended in 2017, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Pool Play 2.0</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. It featured a collection of scenes, monologues, and dance numbers all centered around the topic of various bodies of water. The cast of seven performed in the middle of a large swimming pool, while the audience members sat on the edge, dangling their feet ankle-deep in the water. I am reminded of this moment of joyful public gathering as I am filling up the bathtub at home three years later in anticipation of the company’s new piece, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Play In Your Bathtub</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. This show, unlike the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Pool Play</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, is meant to be enjoyed in solitude, in a private bathtub (a bucket or any container for a footbath will also do). With public spaces being closed for the time being, producer and writer, Erin Mee, turns one’s bathroom into the location for her new site-specific project. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Following the instructions from the email sent prior to the experience I gather the “props”: a cup of tea (can be wine or any beverage), a washcloth soaked in warm water and a candle. The list also calls for aromatherapy source, which might be a scented candle, bath oil or herbal brew which you prepare in advance. For that purpose, I picked up a few twigs of a pine tree which turned out to be the single greatest idea of the week. The pines provide a pleasant smell and fun haptic experience. Necessity is the mother of invention but so is boredom, if anything the quarantine taught me that much. Don’t worry if you don’t have everything on the list, this won’t affect engaging with the piece. The key factor is comfort, so whichever way you choose to immerse yourself in the water, it should feel pleasant and comfortable so you can fully relax your body. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Play In Your Bathtub </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is an audio track that can be played from any device at any time. The date and a start time that you choose upon getting a pay-what-you-can </span><a href="https://www.artful.ly/this-is-not-a-theatre-company" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ticket</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> online is more of a suggestion, and I wish it was emphasized by the company. So don’t be discouraged if the offered times don’t work for you or if you are running late. Although the start time turned out to be nominal (hypothetical) I did like the idea of keeping an appointment with myself and entertained the fact that probably several people are doing exactly the same thing at that moment; getting into the tub and immersing themselves with the sounds of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Play In Your Bathtub</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The 25-minute experience features a collection of poetic monologues and interactive prompts. “Drink from the well of yourself to begin again” - whispers a female voice, followed by a gentle rustling of ice-cubes in a glass, something straight from an </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Autonomous_sensory_meridian_response" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ASMR</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> seance. Then it cuts to a woman offering me to give myself a head massage. In a similar manner, contemplative fragments that are meant to engage the participant intellectually and emotionally are mixed with the prompts to interact with the scene physically. I am invited to trace the patterns of the water with an index finger or the tiles with one’s thumbs. My favorite part was harmonizing along with the narrator, which gave me a strange sense of joy and liberation. I am not a singer and don’t even sing in the shower, so hearing my own voice reverberating against the tiled surfaces was an entirely new experience for me. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Like other productions by This is Not a Theatre Company, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Play In Your Bathtub </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is a busy eclectic collage, switching between the genres and moods in a heartbeat. Like a curious, restless child, Erin Mee invents one game after another and plunges in full-heartedly, only to forget about it altogether in a few minutes and jump on the next adventure. If I wasn’t familiar with the company’s work, I might have felt disoriented, overloaded and confused. Treating the experience as a game and having a little fun enhances it. After all the world “Play” in it stands for both dramatic work and activity for enjoyment and recreation. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve learned that the best way to approach This is Not a Theatre Company’s productions is to treat them as a chocolate sampler: you might not love every single piece but you will have a unique opportunity to try a bunch of different flavors and maybe discover something that will stick with you. For me, it is harmonizing in my full voice in the bathroom and playing with pine twigs. Savoring each moment and experimenting with daily rituals like bathing might open new horizons of perception and re-introduce yourself to you. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Play In Your Bathtub </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">turns the limitations of quarantine into a precious gift. It</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">reminds us that self-care, curiosity, and playfulness are more important now than ever before and that we are only limited by our imagination. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: small;"><em style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0a0a0a; font-family: "Playfair Display", Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Life on Earth</em><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-family: "playfair display" , "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> took place entirely over Discord. A screenshot of the live chat.</span></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Another component of keeping sane during these trying times is to support each other. Hence the second show in the repertoire of This is Not a Theatre Company, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Life on Earth</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, is dedicated to social life in the times of physical distancing. This adaptation of Charles’ Mee play, </span><a href="http://www.charlesmee.org/heaven-on-earth.shtml" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Heaven on Earth</span></a><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> started at 8 pm on April 3rd and ended around 4:30 pm on April 5th. Over a hundred participants were tuning in from all over the world, including </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Argentina, India, Nepal, Turkey, and China. </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is a Bot moderator, who starts and wraps up the sessions, occasionally throws in prompts and has the power to ban those who are not respectful of others. Early in the experience, Bot posts photos of ruins of ancient civilizations: Greek temple, Mayan pyramids, Stonehenge and others. The set is concluded with a photo of people wearing surgical masks cramped in what appears to be a shelter. Bot quotes from </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Heaven on Earth</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">the world has come to an end--</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">and yet:</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">life goes on;</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This sets up the tone for the dialogue on the public forum, dedicated to “Earth Matters”. Videos of different artists performing at home are organized in accordance with the original script and become a part of the live conversation. An inspirational video from Napoli of people singing in unison from their balconies is followed by sharing of exciting things that everybody saw lately, a picture of durian fruit and more vocal and dance performances recorded by the participants in their quarantine corners. At this point the moderation is minimal and there is a lot of confusion in the audience that came to see “the performance”. “Is anything not a performance ;)” - comments one of the participants.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The surreal, absurdist text of Charles Mee lends itself perfectly into the format of a chat-room. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Life on Earth, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the play that inspired our collective Discord journey</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">proved to be so flexible enough to accommodate the participation of people who have no clue in what’s going on. A narrative within a narrative, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Heaven on Earth </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is itself like a beautiful ruin, on which the vines of our personal experiences climb freely. At some point, it becomes more difficult to distinguish between a character in the play and a participant. Is an emoji of a woman in a red dress an homage to </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Heaven on Earth</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">? Some fragments are direct quotes but they blend in so seamlessly in this multi-cultural dialogue that it’s impossible to tell where the original text ends and the improvisation begins. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">More dances, songs, and short videos of everyday activities like yoga or doing chores are added to the chat. Participants share encouraging quotes and comment on each other’s contributions. The rule of thumb that everybody adopted unanimously and without the enforcement from the outside is that you are not supposed to post while everybody is watching a new video offering. As somebody noted: “Less speaking and more listening might help us all understand the dramaturgical structure of the piece”, a good rule for life in general, I might add. Less speaking and more listening might help us understand each other better. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Life on Earth </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">has concluded</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">but is available in its entirety </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">on </span><a href="https://discordapp.com/invite/mzw6C3z" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Discord</span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, complete with a recipe for carrot cake, a tutorial on how to build a sheet fort and Charles’ Mee original text. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To our disappointment or amusement, life today does resemble an absurdist play with a fatal twist. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Life on Earth</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> comes remarkably close to depicting reality, messy but, in the end, so beautiful. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">(This review was published on <a href="https://thetheatretimes.com/play-in-your-bathtub-and-life-on-earth-the-immersive-and-digital-theatre-in-the-time-of-social-distancing/">TheTheatreTimes.com</a> on April 10th)</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div>
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Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-31740698143646685642020-04-09T20:02:00.001-04:002020-04-09T20:02:37.741-04:00Review: DopoLavoro Teatrale’s ‘Invisible City’ Connects Its Global Citizens<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Remote performances provide a quiet space for urban dreamers</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mother’s friend used to have a collection of postcards called “Cities at Night.” Each was entirely black, with a small piece of yellow or white text in the corner or on the bottom saying “</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">X</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> at night,” </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">X</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> being a name of any city on Earth. I loved leafing through pages and pages of her album with these postcards, simultaneously disturbed by the total blackout and moved by the joke. When I think of our cities now, during the pandemic, they seem much like those postcards to me: quiet and waiting, with myriads of stories behind the vastness of black paint. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K_heLAwh2zQ/Xo-3Pk_wLwI/AAAAAAAAKPA/RitYm126ZjAHVxAH5Ss7g-k-rP_am99BQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Invisible%2BCity_Episodes%2B1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K_heLAwh2zQ/Xo-3Pk_wLwI/AAAAAAAAKPA/RitYm126ZjAHVxAH5Ss7g-k-rP_am99BQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Invisible%2BCity_Episodes%2B1.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I feel like I myself am about to step into one of those postcards in </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Invisible City, Episode 1.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> This interactive, episodic show takes place via Google Hangouts. It is a part of </span><a href="https://www.dltexperience.com/theatre-on-call" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Theatre On-Call</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, a festival of performances occurring over the phone and other platforms, created by the Toronto-based DopoLavoro Teatrale. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Following the pre-show instructions, I dim the lights and settle into the nest of my bed ten minutes before the start time. I put on my headphones and listen to a four-and-a-half minute pre-show audio track titled “Going to the Invisible City.” A dreamy electronic tune is joined by a sound of metal clanging, the rhythm of which reminds me of a train slowly rolling out of a railway station at first. Increasingly, the music becomes more abstract and futuristic, and I am not on a train any more, but in a spaceship. And then the call comes through.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are five of us participating tonight. Our video cameras are turned off, so we are represented just by our Google Hangouts profile photos, names, and voices. Natalia is from Vancouver, a theatre and film post-doc researcher; Margit is from Minneapolis, and is a psychology professor; Jeremy is from St. Paul, and is a luthier (</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a maker of stringed instruments), and, lastly, we have Kolpack, the moderator who is coming somewhere from Canada. With gatherings, both public and private, becoming increasingly more global these days, I feel like only two geographical aspects are important now: someone’s time zone and their city’s COVID-19 case count and imposed social distancing restrictions. But we hardly talk about any of that during the experience. Instead, prompted by Kolpack’s questions, we talk about the people we love, the things that make us happy, and our relationship with art. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The format is less of a dialogue and more of an interview as Kolpack asks each of us the same questions, changing the order of the responders. And as the experience progresses, it reminds me of: a classroom with a teacher calling upon us; a radio talk show where a host interviews four random people; a group therapy session; and, lastly, an overnight train car with five strangers gradually warming up to each other. In real life, we could be riding a subway car together or passing each other on the street but we would never talk. With the safety of an anonymous digital connection, we are suddenly drawn to each other and willing to share our own deep thoughts. All of us have different lives, yet I recognize a lot of similarities in the answers. I nod vigorously to some of the revelations. My gesture is unseen but, it feels like, understood by ther others. Some of the experiences the participants share are unfamiliar to me and I try hard to imagine what it means to love your child more than you love your spouse, or what it’s like “having it all” but still experiencing a midlife crisis. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is difficult to pinpoint exactly why </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Invisible City, Episode 1 </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">left such a deep impression on me. At first, the format felt somewhat awkward, if not pointless. In the beginning, one of the participants couldn’t turn their mic on, so the technical difficulties felt like an interruption of the flow. But before I knew it, I was taken by the conversation completely, relishing in the stories of my newly-acquired acquaintances. Often closeness and a sense of profound human connection are born out of anonymity, and DLT has created a wonderful space to evoke those feelings. Being unseen and not seeing my partners in conversation, as well as not knowing them outside of the experience, brings forth trust to open up, as a sort of confession booth. Sometimes I find myself surprised by the words coming out of my own mouth and I can see how this aspect of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Invisible City</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> by itself can be therapeutic. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The thoughtful framing plays a crucial part. Pre-show emails provide clear, step-by-step instructions and I found a sudden comfort in following them, anchoring myself amidst the daily chaos. Following the instructions was like re-creating a magical ritual even though they consisted of fairly routine actions: brush your teeth, put on your pajamas, dim the lights, get comfortable, and listen to an audio track. I was probably eight years old last time somebody was giving me instructions to prepare for bedtime. Receiving them now felt like an act of care, and a promise of a wonderful adventure in the form of a bedtime story. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Invisible City: Episode 1</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> lived up to its promise and I got to travel, not to some fairytale country, but to the streets of Vancouver drowning in spring bloom, and to a balcony overlooking the panorama of Minneapolis, and to St. Paul, lit up by bright street lights. Life goes on, and even in the darkest night, there is the light of human kindness and our own imaginations. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next evening, for </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Invisible City, Episode 2</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, I travel to New York City. I get a Zoom call from Rory, which starts with him reading an excerpt from </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">City of Glass</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> by Paul Auster. I imagine wandering through the streets of New York City with Quinn, the protagonist of this story, traveling the “labyrinths of endless steps,” getting lost in my thoughts. Prior to the quarantine, I spent the majority of my working and leisure time in New York City. I haven’t stepped foot in it for nearly a month. I share this sudden realization with Rory. “Do you think the city will be the same when you come back?” Rory asks me. I don’t know. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> won’t be the same, for sure. Honestly, I don’t know if I want to live in a big city ever again. I can relate to Rory’s observation that cities seem the best place to be when everything is great and the worst places to be trapped in when everything isn’t great. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This hour-long experience consists mostly of readings from </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">City of Glass</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Invisible Cities </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(by Italo Calvino, free-style conversations prompted by Rory’s questions, sharing our urban memories and dreams, and musical pieces that he plays for me. Together we listen to the somber and mysterious “Awakening of a City” by Luigi Russolo, one of the first noise artists of the early-twentieth-century. Amidst the engines roaring and flying away to the stratosphere, I hear Rory typing and sniffing a couple of times. Turns out, the joy of sharing art with somebody is not entirely lost even if we are physically not next to each other. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">With just the two of us on the line, the conversation seems more informal than in Episode 1. I suspect both episodes are designed for a few audience members at a time and it just happened to be a one-on-one in my case. If not for an omnipresent rectangle labeled “DLT Experience” (the third silent wheel in our soulful conversation) and the red dot indicating “Recording,” I could easily forget that I am in a theatrical experience. Being listened to while being recorded also makes me somewhat uneasy. Rory, on the other hand, is a wonderful narrator and a conversation partner. I regret, a bit, being robbed of the illusion that we are entirely alone. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This episode of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Invisible Cities </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">made me reminisce about various immersive one-on-one experiences that I have gone through, both physical and remote. In reviewing past physical one-on-ones, I was never truly alone with the performer, with their (and sometimes my) characters remaining as a wedge between us, not to mention the presence of security cameras as well as any given production’s official rules of engagement and social protocols. Paradoxically, the encounters over the phone seem the most intimate to me, maybe because my dating life occurred in the pre-video-calls era or because of the sense of ease and mystery that voice conversation provides. This format, although bearing its own restrictions, seems a little more flexible, a little more playful. Also, it was nice to close my eyes after a long day staring at screens and drown in the voice reading about the lures of urban spaces. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some of the cities are invisible because they are imaginary, like Isidora, Anastasia or Irene from Calvino’s whimsical novel. But as Rory reads about them, I feel the heat of a noon sun on my skin as I walk through the streets. I hear the splashing water of secluded basins where women invite the passersby to disrobe and chase them into the water. New York is invisible to Queen because he is so lost in his thoughts, he no longer cares where he is, but the city is there, described beautifully on the pages of Auster’s detective story. For Rory, New York City is invisible because he hasn’t been there yet, saving the visit for some special occasion, but it is now on his bucket list for a time after everything is “back to normal.” From where I live, I can see New York City across the Hudson River. I see the city on the news and on social media and in conversations with my friends, but I lack real connection. I ought to keep the social distancing, for now, but I hope to freely walk the New York City streets soon. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As a final act of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Invisible City, Episode 2</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, Rory and I listen to “4:33” by John Cage. It was composed in 1952, for any instrument or combination of instruments, and the score instructs the performer(s) not to play their instrument(s) during the entire duration of the piece, which is 4 minutes and 33 seconds. In the shared silence between us, I hear a few cars driving by, faint music coming from the apartment upstairs, and a dog barking. Even when the lights go down and our cities seem unusually quiet, life goes on. So let’s fill the quiet space between us with meaningful sounds and conversations. It’s so easy to get lost in the roaring sea of news, social media, and television binge-watching. Instead, let’s take time to connect to ourselves, the ones we love, and—maybe—to the ones we don’t know yet. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The first step is easy: just listen. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">(This review was published on NoProscenium.com on April 9th)</span></span></div>
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Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729700345066442932.post-62999096265357896352020-03-05T13:28:00.000-05:002020-03-05T13:28:19.689-05:00Review: Frankenstein<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Frankenstein</em>, told from the creature's point of view, asks, "Who is the real monster?"<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Before there was language, there was a wonderful world of sounds. Tristan Bernays reminds us of that innocent state of mind in the beginning of his <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Frankenstein,</em> which currently runs at the Classic Stage Company (in repertory with Kate Hamill’s <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Dracula</i>). This chamber adaptation of the 1818 novel by Mary Shelley is told, if not totally from the perspective of the infamous Creature, then from that of a very sympathetic observer, who strives to understand the psyche of the “wretched thing” never even given a name by its creator.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "open sans" , "calibri" , "gill sans" , "gill sans mt" , "myriad pro" , "myriad" , "dejavu sans condensed" , "liberation sans" , "nimbus sans l" , "tahoma" , "geneva" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , "sans serif";">Stephanie Berry and Rob Morrison in</span><em style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans", Calibri, "Gill Sans", "Gill Sans MT", "Myriad Pro", Myriad, "DejaVu Sans Condensed", "Liberation Sans", "Nimbus Sans L", Tahoma, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "sans serif";"> Frankenstein.</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "open sans" , "calibri" , "gill sans" , "gill sans mt" , "myriad pro" , "myriad" , "dejavu sans condensed" , "liberation sans" , "nimbus sans l" , "tahoma" , "geneva" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , "sans serif";"> Photo by Joan Marcus.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Bernays wastes no time on the novel's framing story with Captain Robert Walton or on Victor Frankenstein’s university years. He goes straight to the scene of the Creature (Stephanie Berry) coming alive on a massive table (minimalist set design by John Doyle). Dyane Harvey-Salaam’s movement direction is attentive to every micro-gesture. You can almost feel the pain of the malformed “monster” coming alive, as Berry tries to conquer its limbs, every twist and turn accompanied by an excruciating shriek.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The other actor on stage, Rob Morrison, portrays nearly every other character and plays a few different string instruments. The entire play is beautifully laced with original music. Particularly in the beginning, before the Creature first meets humans, the music and various sounds—produced by objects and Berry’s vocal cords—carry the narrative. This gentle scene in the woods might seem slow or lengthy; I spotted a few people in the audience dozing. However, it was my favorite scene in the entire show. Director Timothy Douglas gives the audience a rare opportunity to look into the inner world of somebody who is not capable of full verbal communication and is unversed in the protocols of society. Unaware, we bond with the creature—and some of us are even asked for an English lesson in a brief moment of audience interaction.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Learning spoken language and revealing himself to humans only brings the Creature the bitter disappointment of rejection. He then sets his mind on revenge toward his creator, thus propelling the horror plot. (Though played by a female actor, the Creature is referred to as male.) Berry alternately plays both Victor Frankenstein and his monster. Modern day costumes by Toni-Leslie James come handy, as the coat becomes the body of the Creature’s bride and the red scarf indicates who is playing Frankenstein.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box;">Frankenstein</i> poses a question, “Who is the real monster?” Although the Creature does escalate to the murder of innocents, the play urges us to take a step back and ask ourselves why. “I am alone in the entire world, unfriended and unloved!” he cries, trying to convince Frankenstein to make him a companion, an Eve. When his wish is not fulfilled, the Creature turns toward the only person he can communicate with and simply reflects back his creator’s hatred and fear. A full-length mirror placed onstage invites us to take an honest look at ourselves to see if we are not hosting any monsters of judgment, ignorance, or anger inside of ourselves.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;">Frankenstein</i><span style="color: #333333;"> plays at Classic Stage Company, 136 East 13th Street, through March 8, 2020. The running time is 80 minutes with no intermission. Performances are Wednesday and Thursday at 7; Saturday at 2 and 9; and Sunday at 6. Tickets are $82 - $125. Special two-show packages to </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;">Dracula</i><span style="color: #333333;"> and </span><i style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;">Frankenstein</i><span style="color: #333333;"> are $130. Tickets are available at </span><a href="http://classicstage.org/shows/2020/01/dracula-and-frankenstein-two-new-adaptations-in-repertory/" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="background: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: black;">classicstage.org</span></a><span style="color: #333333;"> or by calling 212-352-3101.</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Frankenstein</em> is by Tristan Bernays, based on a novel by Mary Shelley. Directed by Timothy Douglas. Set Design by John Doyle. Lighting Design by Adam Honoré. Sound Design by Leon Rothenberg. Original Music by Rob Morrison. Costume Design by Toni-Leslie James. Fight Direction by Michael G. Chin. Movement Direction by Dyane Harvey-Salaam. Prop Supervision by Carrie Mossman. Production Stage Manager is Megan Schwarz Dickert.</span></span></div>
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<span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The cast is Stephanie Berry and Rob Morrison.<br /><br />(This review was published on <a href="http://www.theasy.com/Reviews/2020/F/frankenstein.php">theasy.com</a> on February 24) </span></span></div>
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Asya Gorovitshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07998386183104761503noreply@blogger.com0