Theatre & Film

Pinter play a bold choice for new group

by Dustin Hansen
The Snake Lady cometh

by Laura Winton
A whitebread wonderland

by Dwight Hobbes
“She Loves Me” reels them in

by Marty and Martha Roth
John Wenzel @ Gallery Shmallery

by J.P. Johnson

Pinter play a bold choice for new group
by Dustin Hansen

Boldly selecting what might well be the most difficult of Harold Pinter’s plays for their second production, the nimbus theater group managed to bring out the depth of this enigmatic work in a strong performance of “Ashes to Ashes,” which closed Sunday at the Cedar Riverside People's Center. Unfortunately insufficient advertising, undermined further by a misprint in one local paper, made for thin crowds and a probably financially unsuccessful success.
Director/producer Josh Cragun showed a strong grasp of Pinter’s dense, minimalist script, maintaining the moody ambiguity and tension while still keeping us in the realm of the real. Rather than choosing between an abstract approach and a naturalistic one, the choice seemed to be to treat the dilemma as a false one and instead aim for a compromise: these are real people in a real situation, and yet not. Which was disorienting, but somehow worked. And the good old “Pinter pause” was adhered to and well timed.
Billed as a “daring drama [that] examines how our perceptions and understanding of the violence in the world affect our own lives,” the troupe gratefully did not abandon the humor, which was downplayed but not lost.
A two-person play, “Ashes” is full of Pinter trademarks such as the element of interrogation, evasion, power struggle and menace. But the menacing presence here is not on stage. It is the grim gripping specter of memory rattling at the cage of the mind. Pinter takes us further from the familiar and into a surreal place inhabited by two people who seem to have drifted off simultaneously into a shared dream.
Muriel J. Bonertz as Rebecca brought a poise and tongue-in-cheek quality to her character, who seemed more calculating than distressed. She strengthened the role by speaking not with great feeling but as though increasingly entranced — yet managed to deliver the poetic lines not as one reciting a poem but as though the words came from within. Not detached, but approaching the brink of tears without overacting; a triumph for subtlety.
Mic Weinblatt’s acting style lent itself well to this unusual style of dialogue in the role of Devlin. He made each line of off-kilter double-talk resonate with both humor and a grim kind of sarcastic intimidation, although at times he seemed to overemphasize the subtext. There were moments when I thought, “Can't you just say the lines? Can't you just try speaking normally?”
Despite some distracting music filtering down through the ceiling (which, granted, was out of the players’ control — and, hey, that’s why it’s independent theater), the only serious flaw in the production was a poorly done sound track near the end, unfortunately tarnishing an otherwise poignant and cathartic closing moment. But, overall, a well-executed production of an important and relevant play by a promising new company that is doing what it ought to: taking risks and putting its heart into the work.


The Snake Lady cometh
by Laura Winton

God is a Fig Newton. God is Disneyland, Las Vegas, and the Grand Canyon. God is the ultimate male—a philandering non-monogamous sexual beast wandering the universe, devouring us and breaking our hearts.
Thus we have entered the world of Heidi Arneson’s latest offering, “Snake Lady Sheds Her Skin!” In this piece Heidi breaks with her usual m.o. of solo shows with an ensemble piece. The rag tag chorus, dressed like refugees from Les Miserables, assist Heidi in her telling of her doomed love affair with the Almighty, vaudeville style, using song, dance, sexual innuendo and jokes.
There’s not so much a plot here as a theme, or a series of themes and maybe not so much theater as performance. The show clips along from scene to scene illuminating different aspects of the Snake Lady’s relationship with God. The giddy first days, done through a girlish dear-diary style, the humbling realization of unrequited love, and more than a little sexual play. God does a dance of love and narcissistic self-appreciation for us and later on in the show we are “exposed” to group self-love-in with musical accompaniment chronicling the myriad ways to say, “I love me.”
The show moves pretty quickly and if you listen closely behind the broad slapstick humor, there are some moments of thoughtfulness and some downright poetry. “Evening comes and the loss of self . . .” may come back to me during my next sleepless night. One scene that I particularly liked had the chorus of actors all kneeling in prayer making requests running the gamut from banal to philosophical with the closing plaint “I’ve been a good girl” as a mantra running through the piece. The timing and staging are very effective and really show the strength of the ensemble cast.
When I saw the title, I expected the Snake Lady to be more of a classical goddess figure, that the play would be a “clash of the titans,” Mary Daly/Maria Gimbutas style, pitting male god against female god. Except for the moment when she slithers out onto the stage, Snake Lady really wasn’t even all that snaky. Rather, it seems that the situation here is a bit more basic. On one level, perhaps, the show contains metaphors for the way each of us comes to deal with our expectations of God. I was taken with the notion, for instance, that the itinerant lover-God leaves us, unlike the theory of sin in which we walk away from God. More basic than that, however, the show explores the universal male/female relationship in which the “boyfriend” just happens to be God and the “girlfriend” a sort of everywoman.
Working in this context, I’m not sure there is really an organic need for the “boyfriend” in this story to be God, except for the shock value you get contemplating the Deity in sexual contexts, something that is taboo in our culture. Meanwhile, the theological elements of the show are used primarily for poetic interludes and so are not explored enough to make them fully relevant to the story. So the result is a Freudian nonlinear mishmash of sex and religion without really going too far into exploring the depths of either one.
The ensemble cast brings a great deal of energy to the piece and works extremely well together. While many of the jokes are as likely to elicit groans as gut-busting laughs, the show manages to avoid clichés for the most part. There were, however, a few of the requisite local Minnesota “in-jokes,” a staple of Twin City theater so rife that it makes “Fargo” funnier every time I watch it.
I have to say at this point that I liked most of the show and could have forgiven its shortcomings. However, I absolutely hated the ending, in which out of the blue, we are informed that the Snake Lady and God had a child out of wedlock, and this aimless identity-crisis-ridden spawn was . . . America.
Overall the performance aspect itself was engaging enough, but I still left feeling that the parts didn’t quite add up to a whole. It’s always hard to walk away with the feeling that a show could have been more than it was and that was the case.


A whitebread wonderland
by Dwight Hobbes

T heater Latte Da, which managed to turn Edward Albee’s drama “The Death of Bessie Smith” into a minstrel show a season or so ago, again appeals to the whitest of Wonderbread sensibilities with a repeat run of its 2000 hit “A Christmas Carole Petersen.” Perky enough to turn a buzzard’s stomach, gushing with artificial sentiment, this production is a must-see for the mainstream elite.
Cabaret style, co-writer and star Tod Petersen agreeably enacts his memoirs, from precocious childhood to life as a journeyman performer, intermittently revisiting the Christmases in between. He looks back over his life in capable stand-up style with a winning impression of the voice and mannerisms belonging to the other main character, his slightly dingy, steadfastly loyal mom. The supporting ensemble, Jennifer Grimm, Jonathan Rayson and David A. Anderson, hit their marks and sing the appropriate notes — except Grimm, who delivers pure magic every time she opens her mouth. Not only technically proficient, but also wondrously emotive, she has a lock on that intangible which separates musical performers from entertainment stars.
“A Christmas Carole Petersen” plays well to Theater Latte Da’s perfectly targeted audience; suburbanites and condo-dwellers with a sweet tooth for slick, smarmy fare. The afternoon I went, a packed house was, from curtain to curtain call, thoroughly engaged. Laughter consistently rose, swelling to an uproar at Jennifer Grimm’s portrayal of a Mrs. Claus who’s sick and tired of hubby leaving her home while he hits the high road around the world every year. “Surabaya Santa”’ inventively hint that, as Santa seems to have horizontal plans for Blitzen, the lady of house is ready, willing and able to give those hard-working elves a pleasurable play-day off. Another hit with the crowd was Jonathan Rayson’s bland take on Joni Mitchell’s melancholy gem “River”: pained expressions and a sterile delivery approximated angst to strong applause. Sprinkling Yuletide staples “I’ll Be Home For Christmas,” “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,” “Feliz Navidad” and the not wholly obscure “Mele Kalikimaka” amid largely unknown but nonetheless adequate material, co-writer/director Peter Rothstein provides a program with the ultimate appeal of homogeneity. Strolling, far-eyed entrances straight out of Broadway 101 initiate several pieces generally executed with requisite posturing. Thankfully, musical director Denise Florek enhances run-of-the-mill handiwork with transfixing harmonies.
“A Christmas Carole Petersen” played to rapturous houses and received rave reviews first time around. Unquestionably it once more will keep all the seats at Theater Latte Da filled with enthusiastic attendees. Tailored to the privileged, this holiday reminiscence is an excellent opportunity to go walkin’ in an upscale wonderland.
“A Christmas Carole Petersen” runs at Theater Latte Da through Dec. 30. Shows are Thursdays - Saturdays at 8 p.m., Sundays at 2 p.m. There is an ASL-interpreted performance Dec. 13. Tickets are $15 Thursdays and Sundays, $20 Fridays and Saturdays. For reservations call Ticketworks, (612) 343 - 3390 or go on-line at www.ticketworks.com.

“She Loves Me” reels them in
by Marty and Martha Roth

W e’re suckers for musicals, even shows as retro and deliberately square as “She Loves Me,” the Jerry Bock/Sheldon Harnick featherweight currently showing at Theatre in the Round in its newly overhauled space on the West Bank. Part of TRP's 50th anniversary season, “Loves” is good clean fun, perfect for holiday outings with adolescent children or elderly relatives. It’s even pleasing to midlife hipsters.
Film fans may recognize the story of two people who answer personal ads and don’t recognize that they are each other’s pen-pal soul mates. It’s the same Hungarian romantic comedy that provided the basis for the classic “Shop on Main Street” and most recently, “You’ve Got Mail.” Joe Masteroff, best known for writing the book for “Cabaret,” wrote the book for this musical, too, and set it firmly back where it was before those pesky Americans transported it: among clerks and patrons in a perfume shop in 1930s Budapest. The Hungarian period setting allows composer Bock to indulge in Central European waltzes, csardas, and Gypsy rhythms (some of the music grew up to be “Fiddler on the Roof”) and gives TRP’s costumers license to lavish the women of the cast with bias-cut rayon and elegant hats.
The show’s strengths include delightful choreography from director Randy Winkler, ably performed by the cast who are uniformly competent in all other regards as well, and they provide some delightful surprises, particularly Debra Draheim as Ilona, a clerk, who sings the show-stopping number, “A Trip to the Library.” Kirsten Iverson, in the female lead, has a strong voice, and Joshua Larson in the male lead has lots of charm and just the right amount of stuffiness.
“Loves” is a charming piece of fluff, a bonbon of a show, but TRP doesn’t quite have the delicacy and sureness of touch to bring it off.
In honor of the anniversary and its long-awaited remodeling, TRP has mounted a lobby exhibit of Twin Cities theater history from the 1950s to the present, commemorating such past glories as the Firehouse, the Palace, and At the Foot of the Mountain. It makes for a nice stroll during the single intermission.

 

John Wenzel @ Gallery Shmallery

by J.P. Johnson
Most of us will like John Wenzel's work because it’s cool, attractive and will make your apartment that way too if you buy it. Wenzel’s paintings are not terribly thought provoking, nor are they a scathing commentary on any social circumstance, either here or in some far-off country. Wenzel paints what he knows and where he lives; subsequently, his work is secure and sincere. The paintings in Wenzel’s first show, still reasonably priced, are the kind that you very well may buy. For the most part his hip and groovy representations of Twin City nightlife are done with heavy paint and thick brush strokes. One can see in his paintings the different perspectives of familiar Hennepin hangouts, well-known corner crossings and downtown thoroughfares. Many of his painted city life glows with a soft yellow and even his large pictures of the metropolis gone mad are easygoing and non-threatening. His paintings are linked together in a chaotic way so that one canvas seems to ambiguously relate to its neighbor. In his work called “View From Pracnas” he paints the well known outside patio in full roar under a slightly impressionistic night sky. In the next canvas he narrows the scope of his painting, filling the whole frame with some light brown bottles sitting on Pracnas’ bar. While the beret-wearing crowd may end up putting down Wenzel for his lack of cute themes, he will continue to sell his work to people who want original paintings to put on their walls and hang out with. Exhibit is currently open and continues through December. Marathon hours Fri. 8 p.m. to Sun. 12 Midnight. Gallery Shmallery, 160 13th Ave NE, 612-378-0397. (J. P. Johnson)