Tag Archives: Theatre

Macbeth vs. Princess Ida in a clash of theatrical titans!

One of my Christmas presents from TYG was tickets to the local Playmakers’ production of Macbeth last month (she was right to buy in advance — they were packed). The story of an ambitious Scottish nobleman who learns from three witches that he could become king was superbly done: well-acted, great looking —

— and well-executed character arcs. Macbeth is initially traumatized by the outrages he’s committed, then rapidly becomes comfortable rationalizing his actions, even down to murdering his best friend Banquo; Lady Macbeth, meanwhile, suffers the reverse arc (her initial enthusiasm for regicide comes off rather two dimensional but she improved as she went along). Possibly the best production by the group that we’ve seen. “Bring forth men-children only, for thy undaunted mettle should compose nothing but males.”

PRINCESS IDA was the Durham Savoyards’ production for this year (this time TYG took me as my birthday gift), the story of how Ida, rather than honor her infant marriage pledge to Prince Hilarion (“I was twice her age — she was one, I was two.”), retreats from the world to found a school for women’s education. Hilarion, determined to win his bridge, sneaks in with his friends, disguised as women … but hilarity does not ensue, at least for me. This was based on an earlier play of Gilbert’s that was based on a Tennyson poem and therefore never gets into whimsical, absurd situations of the duo’s best work (though of course the Victorian audience may have found women’s education absurd enough). That said, the performers are good, the set is great and Sullivan’s music is exceptional, so I did enjoy it. Still, it’ll never be on a par with The Mikado or Patience. “I can tell a woman’s age in half a minute — and I do!”

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Is man’s favorite sport legal blondes? One movie, one play

Howard Hawks has done some wonderful rom-coms including Bringing up Baby and Ball of Fire. MAN’S FAVORITE SPORT (1964) is not one of them, though it has many of the elements of Bringing Up Baby, with the male lead (Rock Hudson) put through the wringer by the good bad girl Abigail (Paula Prentiss) before finally realizing she’s more than the most obnoxious, most irritating woman he’s ever met.

Roger is a legendary fishing guru working for Abercrombie and Fitch (apparently back then they were a sporting goods store rather than clothing). Abigail’s running PR for an upcoming fishing tournament and convinces Roger’s boss (John McIver) that Roger competing would be a publicity windfall for everyone.

Too bad Roger can’t actually fish: he learned by listening to fishermen talk, then sharing what they say with his customers, eventually compiled it into a book … but he has no skills. Fortunately Abigail knows fishing; she can teach Roger, but can she teach him enough? And will they kill each other before the training is over?

Hawks wanted Cary Grant for the lead role but didn’t get him (though Grant, while still elegant, was 60 — I think that would have been a stretch even for a movie May-September romance). Hudson was a logical choice, having starred in a couple of rom-coms (Pillow Talk, Lover Come Back) but he doesn’t work as Roger. In one of the early scenes — Abigail parks her car in Roger’s sport, he tries to move it, hilarity ensues — I can imagine Grant’s deadpan frustration as he struggles to cope. Hudson can’t pull it off. On the plus side the supporting cast are fun and legendary costume designer Edith Head decks out the women in some great outfits. “Does a man who sells canaries have to know how to fly?”

Now, the play: my brother has twice appeared in the musical LEGALLY BLONDE (yes, based on the Reese Witherspoon film) as the lecherous professor who recruits Elle Woods for his murder-case team simply because he’s hot for her. Wanting something light and fluffy I streamed one of the productions (he sent me a link) last weekend and enjoyed the story of how blonde sorority girl Elle Woods (“Whoever said tangerine is the new pink was seriously disturbed.”) crashes Harvard Law to prove to her ex-boyfriend she’s not some bimbo, then discovers to her surprise that she’s not some bimbo. A fun, light-hearted show, which is what I needed.“The Irish fear nothing and no-one/They keep fighting till everyone’s dead/I’m not sure where this metaphor’s going/But I feel that it needs to be said.”

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Deadly bees, silent kids and Christmas: movies and a play

I’m a fan of H.F. Heard’s novel A Taste of Honey, and a few years back watched the Boris Karloff TV adaptation, The Sting of Death. When I discovered Britain’s Amicus Films had adapted it into THE DEADLY BEES (1967) I couldn’t resist — though I can’t say that was a great use of my viewing time.

Suzanna Leigh plays Vicki, a singer burned out from overwork, though we do get a couple of pop songs before she collapses (as I know from Amicus Horrors, the studio started out doing rock-and-roll films). Recuperating on an isolated rural island (just typing those words seems to conjure ominous background music) where there’s a rivalry between her beekeeeping host, Doleman (Ralph Hargrove) and fellow apiarist Manfred (Frank Finlay). And as the movie progresses, a surprising number of people drop dead of bee stings …

All of which is rendered at a slow, plodding pace; I suspect the film added the opening (a couple of defense officials discussing some crackpot’s ridiculous claim he can weaponize bees) because otherwise it would take too long for us to learn what the film’s about. This also suffers from the lack of Mr. Mycroft, Heard’s Holmes-by-another-name figure. Still, I’m surprised nobody used this property a few years later, when America was consumed by fears of South American killer bees. “The scent of fear? I always thought that was just a phrase.”

GOOD MORNING (1959) is a slice-of-life dramedy from Japanese director Yasujiro Ozo, looking at the goings on in a small Japanese neighborhood. Housewives worry one of them has walked off with the homeowner’s assocation dues (or something equivalent), a salaryman bemoans his miserable retirement and two brothers vow never to speak until their parents by them a TV (a variation of a plotline in Ozo’s silent film I Was Born, But). This is quite charming, though I didn’t realize how much fart humor there is in it (the special features clued me in) — the beeps Ozo uses to stand in for farts didn’t register as such, partly because I was focused on subtitles more than sounds. “Do you still eat pumice stones?”

I’m not a fan of A CHRISTMAS STORY — THE MUSICAL (I caught a TV adaptation some years back) but as my brother was in one production I watched the recording of one of his performances as Ralphie’s dad. He does as well as anyone can who isn’t Darren McGavin but the stage version is still too, well, cute.

While the movie is hardly Eugene O’Neil, the family have their rough edges. Ralphie gets his buddy Schwartz in trouble by claiming he taught Ralphie the f-bomb; Mom apparently busts the legendary leg-lamp because she hates how tacky it is. The stage version sands them off, like George Lucas insisting Greedo shot first. Here, Ralphie’s brother breaks the lamp and Mom covers for him; a big part of the ending is a song about family and how any Christmas Story that has them all together is a happy story (the songs, in general, are forgettable). Though the cast were all good in their roles. “They were so far down the evolutionary chain, they weren’t even in Darwin’s family tree!”

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Jekyll and Hyde breaking free!

As I’ve blogged about a couple of times, the Victorian stage scripts adapting Jekyll and Hyde had a huge influence on subsequent adaptations. The two scripts I read this week are noteworthy in that they don’t stick as closely to that template as the Richard Abbott script reviewed at the link does.

As H. Leonard Cuddy’s JEKYLL AND HYDE has a large role for a maid (an unhappy one, raped in one scene, murdered later) I’d assumed Cuddy was influenced by Mary Reilly but no, this came out in 1981.

Jekyll here has the radical belief that intelligence and character aren’t something born into us: all our brains as bodily organs are equal in ability but education and social status leads to us burying a lot of it. This annoys both Dr. Lanyon and his niece Celestine — is Jekyll seriously suggesting that his uncouth new maid isn’t innately and obviously inferior to Celestine? Despite which Jekyll and Celestine become engaged in the “well, I guess you’ll do” matter of fact way some people apparently did back then. Unfortunately Jekyll’s experiments in unearthing what’s buried go in unanticipated directions … interesting.

In the introduction to his DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE script, playwright David Edgar admits he wanted to get back to Stevenson but instead found himself borrowing from later adaptations, including a maid inspired by Mary Reilly. Edgar’s script does restore Jekyll to bachelorhood but gives him a sister who represents the “new woman” of the late 19th century, the kind of independent, quasi-feminist woman he believes Stevenson’s sausage-fest of a novel was responding to. The story that results didn’t do much for me but like Cuddy’s, it’s an interesting variation on its theme (I’ve no idea how I’d respond to either of them were I not knee deep in Jekyll and Hyde thoughts). And I did find Edgar’s discussion of casting interesting: originally he’d chosen two men to play Jekyll and Hyde but he concluded the audience wants the tour-de-force of seeing one man assay both roles.

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Jekyll, Hyde and people who hate cities

As chronicled in Jekyll and Hyde Dramatized, when Richard Mansfield brought his stage adaptation of Stevenson’s novel to England, one David Bandmann whipped up a mockbuster version starring himself. It violated copyright and Stevenson’s people got it shut down fast.

One of the things I’ve picked up on that most books haven’t is that an 1897 adaptation by Luella Forepaugh and George Fish is a direct knockoff of Bandmann’s script, whether authorized or plagiarized. It was more successful though, cutting out some of the worst parts of Bandmann (the choir of adorable moppets singing) and would be the basis for multiple silent films. It’s influence is substantial.

DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE by Richard Abbott is a 1941 adaptation that appears to owe a lot to the Bandmann/Forepaugh-Fish version, including a comic-relief Irish cook, Hyde declaring that he enjoys attacking helpless women and children and a similar arrangement for changing Jekyll to Hyde. That said, Abbott does chart his own path on some things, such as an emphasis on the age gap between Jekyll and his lady love. It’s still being performed in the 21st century, but I find it slow, tedious and talky. One element that didn’t transfer from stage to film is Sir Danvers Carew’s daughter demanding Jekyll help capture Hyde (the movies shifted Carew’s death to the end of the story so there’s less time for that).

AMERICANS AGAINST THE CITY: Anti-Urbanism in the Twentieth Century by Steven Conn looks at how Americans a little over a century ago began grappling with the idea that the majority of the population was now urban, an unsettling thought for a country that defined Real Americans as living in small towns and on farms, not wage slaves and drones living in the big city. Plus cities were dysfunctional in a lot of ways — slums, corrupt political machines, immigrants, how could they possibly be the heart of America?

The initial response from early 20th century progressives was to fix the cities: better government, slum clearance, parks, education (the swimming pool controversies of Contested Waters fit right in). This proved a tougher task than expected, leading to counter-arguments that the solution was to support authentic rural lifestyles as the real America, or to build new towns that could be perfectly, efficiently run from the first. Neither solution worked: support for traditional Appalachian crafts, for instance, mostly turned them into a cottage industry providing kitsch for urbanites with money.

What ultimately changed the game was the federal government building the interstate highways. Not only did this destroy many settled city neighborhoods, it made it possible to leave the city to live and commute there for work. City populations stopped growing and often shrunk, as did their revenue base. The Reagan era further intensified the problems by insisting government is the problem so government doing anything to fix things was pointless.

The focus on urban planning rather than the pop culture perception of cities wasn’t quite what I wanted. However I’d still rate it as an interesting book.

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Drowsy Chaperone (redux)

While I’ve watched my bro on stage both in real life and on streaming productions he’s sent me links to, TYG has never watched him. That was why last week’s date movie was Craig’s DVD of THE DROWSY CHAPERONE, which I rewatched last year.

The play has a middle-aged narrator retreating from the world by putting on one of his favorite LPs (as vinyl’s making a comeback, this no longer reads Old and Out of Touch the way I think it was meant to), a frothy 1920s show, The Drowsy Chaperone and making metacommentary as we watch the show. The story is absurd, involving a big wedding where multiple guests have clashing agendas and the bride is haunted by some second thoughts — will the wedding come off? Will flamboyant Euro-trash casanova Aldolfo seduce the bride? Will the groom fall for the incredibly beautiful French girl Mimi? Will it end happily — but y’all probably know the answer to that one.

TYG isn’t into musicals the way I am but she enjoyed the absurdity and my brother’s performance as a sad guy finding comfort in entertainment that he loves even though it isn’t that good (I can relate). She was thrown by a joke about the nameless narrator researching one ukelele-playing actor in the musical (“All my online research led me to photographs of Tiny Tim’s autopsy.”) as she’d never heard of the ukelele-playing Tiny Tim (well known when I was a tween). “You’ve been reading your own mind, you idiot!”

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Two movies (the same movie twice?) and a play

SYMBIOPSYCHOTOXIPLASM (1968) is an arty metatextual film about director William Greaves filming various couples working out their romantic issues in Central Park, but also filming himself, his cast and his crew making the movie we’re watching. That leads to discussion of the acting challenges, the director musing on his role and the crew arguing they’re the only ones who truly get Greaves’ vision.

This could easily have been pretentious crap that appeals only to clever people talking loudly in restaurants (to use Monty Python’s phrase) but it works as a quirky piece. The Take One was added to the name when Take Two came out in 2005. “What makes you think everyone else is so stupid and you’re so smart?”

Greaves’ SYMBIOPSYCHOTOXIPLASM Take 2 1/2 (2005) is less interesting because 90 percent of it remakes the original film and I’ve seen that one. Greaves argues at one point that it’s not the same movie because everyone working on it is aware of the original — but that doesn’t affect what we actually see. “That’s the way life works — every situation is without precedent.”

AFTER YOU MR. HYDE is a musical stage production starring Alfred Drake (as Jekyll and Hyde) and Nancy Dussault (as his fiancee Margaret) that New England’s Goodspeed Opera House (which provided the photo above for use in my book) staged in 1968. I was lucky enough to find a recording on YouTube, though as it was taken by an audience member and doesn’t include video (not feasible back in the pre-cellphone days) I couldn’t gather much.

What I did learn (partly from notes at the link) is that this was the basis for the ABC Kirk Douglas musical. Like a lot of stage-to-screen adaptations, they’re quite different; the only songs that survive are “Something Very, Very Good” and “I Bought a Bicycle” (the result of Hyde’s libertine ways loosening his regular self up a little). And the stage show’s ending has Jekyll commit suicide, leaving his friend’s baffled what could drive the doctor to that step. “The good in me emerges/purged of evil urges/What a splendid plan!”

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Feed me, Seymour!

No movies last weekend, what with being at Ravencon and all, but the previous weekend TYG took me to Little Shop of Horrors by the local Playmakers theatre company. The tickets were a Christmas present, and the show proved well worth waiting for.

As you probably know, this was a 1980s musical inspired by Roger Corman’s low-budget SF comedy movie, Little Shop of Horrors, built around the time-honored concept of “what if a plant ate us instead of vice-versa?” The play, I think, is way better than the original film (the musical would, of course, return to the screen with Rick Moranis, Ellen Greene and Steve Martin among the cast).

Our protagonist Seymour, is an orphan raised and used as an indentured servant in Mushnik’s skid row flower shop. An idea TYG mocked — who goes to skid row to buy flowers? — and sure enough, Mushnik makes the same point early on. Things turn around when Seymour acquires the strange, exotic flower … but the only way to feed it is with human blood. Need I say things take a dark turn?

This was a well-done production, great-looking set and some amazing singers in the cast. Where the original show and movie were 1950s-set, this opted for the 1970s, arguing it’s a parallel for our current era (corrupt president, economy floundering, intense struggles over white male supremacy), not that that affects the show any. This gave it a different visual look from other versions but it did make most of the references in “Somewhere That’s Green” weirdly anachronistic (Leavittown! A “big 12-inch TV screen!”). That’s a minor flaw in an excellent production — even TYG liked it and she’s not a musical theater person. “Downtown, where the men are drips/Downtown, where they tear your slips!/Downtown, where relationships/are no-go!”

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French detectives! Spanish time travel! British tars! TV, movies and a play

The second season of the French crime series HPI jacks up the stakes some from S1 while keeping the same basic premise: genius cleaner Morgane (Audrey Fleurot) works as a police consultant, using her brains and super-acute awareness of details to solve crimes that would otherwise be dead ends. In one scene her partner Karadec (Mehdi Nebbou) points out this is exactly the point in the episode where she comes up with a brilliant deduction so well, what has she figured out?

As a result of one unauthorized investigation last season, Morgane is under scrutiny by Internal Affairs cop Roxane (Clotilde Hesme) and thinking before she talks is not Morgane’s strength. Over the course of the season she clears herself but she also realizes she’s hot for Karadec, who is now dating Roxane — plus a great deal more going on Morgane’s messy personal life. Still a fun one. “Look for three-fingered men and you find one on every corner.”

MIRAGE (2019) is a Spanish time travel film probably inspired by Frequency as it has a similar premise of two people communicating across time by using the same device (a radio in the first movie, a video camera here) under freak conditions and, of course, screwing up their lives.

The protagonist, a nurse in the present, contacts a kid in 1989 the very night he’s about to die running from a murderer. Her intervenion saves the kid but creates a new timeline: she’s a famous neurosurgeon (she gave up on that when she married), the killer’s still out there and her husband thinks she’s a deranged stalker. Can she put things back to rights? Can she and the boy bring the killer to justice?

I really enjoyed this one other than one annoying plot contrivance: why is it her alt.friends and colleagues never bring up her husband (“You’re having some sort of breakdown — I’ll call him.”)? The answer is that it preserves a big reveal late in the film but it still makes no sense. However I still recommend the film. “The flight of a butterfly can be very cruel if it’s in a place or time that allows for change.”

This year’s Gilbert and Sullivan production from the Durham Savoyards was the duo’s first big hit, H.M.S. PINAFORE OR THE LASS THAT LOVED A SAILOR. This has never been a favorite of mine — the relatively simple question of whether the Lass will end up with heroic sailor Rick Rackshaw or Sir Joseph Porter, KCB lacks the plot complications and twists of most of the later works. However it does show many of the elements that recur in later plays such as characters switched at birth and pompous, unqualified officials. It also occurs to me that a key part of the plot makes Buttercup (no relation to the Princess Bride character) at least 15 years older than the man she’s going to marry at the end. Still the Durham Savoyards put on a lively, engaging production, as usual (and unlike some of theirs, done in period). “Now this is most alarming — she practiced baby farming!”

PS. My friend Ada Milenkovic Brown took out an ad for Ceaseless Way — we’re both contributors — in the Pinafore program.

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Sleep, creep and sing: movies and a play (and TV!)

My Howard Hawks viewing continues its run of hits with the classic THE BIG SLEEP (1946), which I find makes even less sense as a mystery than the last time I watched it. It’s still awesome.

Bogart plays Raymond Chandler’s hardboiled PI, Philip Marlowe, hired by an aging rich man who suspects someone’s blackmailing one of his daughters, and that his vanished protege/surrogate son might be involved (which worries him more than blackmail per se). Marlowe finds himself surrounded by colorful, though not always likable characters including his client’s too-young, too-seductive daughter Carmen (Martha Vickers) quietly calculating Elisha Cook Jr. as a would-be tough guy and Lauren Bacall as his client’s older daughter, with whom he’s soon trading snappy banter (“I don’t mind if you don’t like my manners — I don’t like them myself.”).

Typically a mystery film slowly builds up evidence and answer as we move from scene to scene. Here Bogart runs into gamblers, gang bosses, bad girls, blackmailers and others and none of the scenes seems to move us closer to making sense of things. It’s well-known the film doesn’t make sense due to changing who’s unmasked as the killer but even without that it’s less interested in putting the pieces together than sharp dialogue, tense encounters, flirtatious glances and generally cool scenes (it meets Hal Wallis’s standard of three good scenes, no bad ones). If it doesn’t make sense I certainly don’t care. “She sat in my lap while I was still standing up.”

Someone at Ret-Con recommended CREEP (2014) which led to me taking 90 minutes of my time to watch this found-footage story about a terminally ill man who invites a videographer to record his dying days for his son — but before long it becomes increasingly obvious he’s not telling the truth about his cancer, or about a great many other things. Here the reveal is no shock but the journey to get there has a dearth of cool scenes. “I was going to pour you a whisky.”

LA VIDA BREVE is a short Spanish opera TYG took me too for our date last weekend. The story of a Roma woman’s tragic romance with a faithless aristocrat is beautifully sungbut has almost nothing in the way of plot and minimally staged — no blocking, simply people standing and singing — which didn’t improve it (TYG, who’s considerably more opera-savvy than me, had similar thoughts). The flamenco dancing was an exception, and cool to see/ “Cursed is he who is born the anvil, instead of being born the hammer!”

It’s been several years but I finally returned to the world of UPSTAIRS, DOWNSTAIRS in its third season and quite an eventful one it was. Lady Bellamy drown on the Titanic which makes her feckless son James (Simon Williams) the new head of the household with her husband Richard (David Langton) now a poor relation living with him. There’s James’ new bride Hazel (Meg Wynn Owen) who proves a terrible match (not her fault), a new young relative (a young Lesley Anne Downe) and in the final episode, an assassination in the Balkans sparks a war — fortunately it can’t possibly last more than six months, right? Plus assorted romantic tangles and conflicts among the cast. Always a pleasure. “If that’s the way you feel, maybe it’s best our baby died before it was born!”

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