Jane Eyre

Atlanta Journal-Constitution, The (GA)
from THE ATLANTA JOURNAL CONSTITUTION
November 22, 2002
Section: Preview
Edition: Home; The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

THEATER: A fine display of gothic gumption
WENDELL BROCK; Staff

REVIEW

"Jane Eyre"
8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays; 5 p.m. Dec. 1, 8 and 22; 2 p.m. Sunday and Dec. 15. Through Dec. 21. $20-$25. Actor's Express, 887 W. Marietta St. N.W. 404-607-7469, www.actorsexpress.com
The verdict: Book it

In the famous Branwell Bronte painting of his three sisters, Charlotte Bronte (1816-1855) is the one standing off to the side, looking decidedly like a plain Jane. By all accounts, she was. And it was this self-image -- too shy, too short, too smart maybe -- that led to the creation of her alter ego, Jane Eyre.If you don't know her novel of that name, it's one of the grandmamas of Gothic fiction, a fetid tangle of abandoned orphans, mean-spirited aunts, wounded romantics and madwomen locked in the attic. Though it may be a laughable melodrama by contemporary standards, the book has been perennially admired as everything from an early feminist manifesto to a classic novel of marriage -- and it's easy to see how the story has influenced pulp practitioners and A-list stylists alike. (See Henry James' "The Turn of the Screw" and Edith Wharton's "Ethan Frome.")

Now Actor's Express has staged a theatrical alternative to the book itself. It comes courtesy of adaptor Julie Beckman and Seattle's Book-It Repertory Theatre -- a company of literary lapidaries with a reputation for carving sprawling works of fiction into dramatic gems. Instead of reading the 500-page novel, you can sit through the nearly three-hour drama, which is faithful down to the period costumes and fuzzy sideburns and even preserves Bronte's descriptions of her characters' every eyebrow wiggle.

This is not a fault -- just a device that adds to the sensation that you are reading the book as it's acted out in front of you. Over the past year, I've seen it applied to varying effect to the works of Flannery O'Connor, Charles Dickens and C.S. Lewis. Sometimes the actors sit in chairs, sometimes they stand behind lecterns, and sometimes -- as in David Crowe's finely detailed production here -- they engage in performances that fairly pulsate with energy and emotion.

Caveats first: Though mostly successful, this "Jane Eyre" is too long. And Agnes Lucinda Harty's portrayal of the strong-willed heroine turns her into a one-note Janey, who's probably more maudlin than she needs to be. We feel sympathy for Jane when we should, but we probably smile a bit more than we ought when she has to submit to the campy cruelties of human nature. It's the "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?" syndrome.

As Edward Rochester -- the rich, handsome hero who makes her fall in love with him, as she puts it -- Seattle actor Basil Harris is sufficiently dark-eyed and mysterious to make his character totter on the edge of goodness and evil. Technically adept, he also gives a quicksilver impersonation of Rochester's horse, riding in from the woods.

Just as delightful are ensemble members Barbara Cole, Andrew Davis and Jackie Prucha in so many guises that you're surprised there aren't more of them when they take their bows.

As the coquettish Blanche Ingram, Cole is in her most glamorous Bette Davis mode. Prucha's primness of face gives her a formidable edge as Jane's hateful aunt, Mrs. Reed. And Davis, as the sadistic Mr. Brocklehurst and the parsimonious postmistress, is sublime. Like Dickens, Eyre had an eye for the grotesque, and this production finds great comedy in the caricatures..

Miranda Hoffman's sets and costumes give this sparingly staged composition the right tone. Enhanced by Juliet Chia's burnished lighting, Hoffman's silhouettes are evocative of great portraiture -- from Ingres to Degas to Sargent.

This painterly effect reaches a theatrical apotheosis in the Christmas ball scene, in which a party of revelers pantomime their happiness while Jane looks on in horror. Instead of falling back on the tired balletic conventions of whispered acting, Crowe blurs the action of each vignette with the hand of a slow-motion photographer. The results are mesmerizing, beautiful and pregnant with psychology.

Of course, so is the source. How clever of Actor's Express to produce a dark holiday alternative to Dickens. Like "A Christmas Carol," this show is creepy, ultimately transcendant and English to the hilt. Bitters with wassail? Works for me.

Photo: In Actor's Express' moody and masterly staging of "Jane Eyre," Basil Harris as Rochester and Agnes Lucinda Harty as the strong-willed governess are commendably credible. / YVETTE ZAROD / Actor's Express

Copyright 2002 The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

from CREATIVE LOAFING
Fresh Eyre
Jane Eyre brings lit class to life at Actor's Express

BY CURT HOLMAN

Seeing the Actor's Express production of Jane Eyre is the next best thing to reading Charlotte Bronte's book. Julie M. Beckman originally adapted the novel for Book-It Repertory Theatre in Seattle, which specializes in bringing classic texts to the stage. If Jane Eyre is a representative page from its work, the company has found the ideal key to combining the richness of reading with the dynamics of stagecraft.

The story of Jane Eyre is well known, or at least it should be. Agnes Harty plays the title character, an orphan girl raised by the severe Mrs. Reed (Jackie Prucha) and other unloving relatives. At boarding school she survives both corporal punishment and an outbreak of typhus, the deaths from which are hauntingly symbolized by white sheets spread over the spare stage floor.

Jane eventually strikes out on her own as a governess, finding a job at an underpopulated mansion called Thornfield Hall. She's attracted to smoldering Mr. Rochester (Basil Harris), the master of the house, but feels like a low-born outsider in company of such society friends as Barbara Cole's wicked aristocrat.

She also wonders why things go bump in the night at Thornfield Hall, as she hears maniacal laughter and catches glimpses of a strange, wild-haired figure. Director David Crowe makes effective use of shadows, candles and light reflected from hand-mirrors to create a moody atmosphere. Only the moments of actual violence, which are conveyed in slow-motion and drastic lighting changes, prove awkward.

Given the gothic setting and actors playing multiple roles, Jane Eyre favors the two-actor Taming of the Shrew, which starred Harty and was staged by both Actor's Express and the Shakespeare Tavern. But Beckman's script stands apart by retaining huge passages from Bronte's text. Jane Eyre is a first-person novel, and Harty is required to speak nearly non-stop for more than two-and-a-half hours, but her energy seldom flags.

The quirky thing about Beckman's device is that the other actors speak not only the dialogue but descriptions of their characters' actions, with speaking parts switching actors in mid-sentence. Andrew Davis' oppressive Mr. Brocklehurst says, "He turned his head slowly..." "... toward where I stood," Jane finishes. At some moments it's like the actors are merely reciting unnecessary stage directions: "Bessie brought in a glass of water," says the actress playing Bessie, bringing in a glass of water. But as you grow accustomed to the gimmick, you can appreciate the shadings the actors bring to Bronte's prose. Jane Eyre takes a condensed version of the book and sets it in motion.

Despite the ominous goings-on, the production finds room for laughter. Male actors occasionally play female parts, with Davis portraying an elderly postmistress with a hacking cough, and subsequent references to the post office are punctuated with his cough from off-stage. And Harris captures not just the brooding, tortured Rochester but the charm of the role, especially in the moments when he flirtatiously accuses Jane of being a fairytale creature.

Even while enjoying the first act, you might find yourself asking, "Why Jane Eyre? The gothic setting, however well handled, could come from plenty of other sources, and a book like The Scarlet Letter might seem more relevant to current issues. But Jane Eyre's immediacy asserts itself in the latter half. As an "independent" woman, the title character emerges as a kind of proto-feminist, while Rochester's dark secret, represented by the sinister locked door that commands the performing space, can stand for anyone with a skeleton in the closet -- or a madwoman in the attic.

And Jane Eyre still has the capacity to surprise. On opening night, someone in the audience gasped audibly at a second-act plot twist. There's life in the old book yet.

curt.holman@creativeloafing.com

Endgame

www.gsuendgame.blogspot.com for production blog

Cabaret

Cabaret didn't get reviewed and it was too bad because the show was very good. The theatre that produced it had made enemies of the local reviewers by making them watch a particularly painful Auntie Mame only a few months prior. Offers of everything from lunch to lewd acts could not entice them back for Cabaret. Curt Holman of Creative Loafing did eventually see and like the show very much, though too late in the run to review it. A large portion of the success of this show goes to the choreographer, Jen MacQueen, whose enthusiasm, sunday-school-teacher sweetness, and filthy mind gave the dance numbers a really creepy pop that found its way into the rest of the show. I begged for a number in which the Kit Kat Girls were dressed like the Von Trapp Family and forced to strip for the audience but she drew the line --- which firmly landed me the title of "Most Pervy" with the entire cast --- and that's saying something.

Peripheral Visions

Marginal Women and Peripheral Visions, two terrific projects with awful titles, spawned about 35 short plays that focused on women's lives in history and roles in popular culture. Both MW and it's follow-up, were very successful, selling out most nights. The playwrights and cast donated their work and time in exchange for the chance to work outside their area of specialty. Playwrights performed and directed, Directors wrote and performed and Actors did a little bit of everything. The collaborative nature of the process meant that the artists always had a mentor to help them, Directors advising first time directors and Actors supporting the many performers who were onstage for the first time. To develop the plays, we met every Saturday morning from September 1 until the week before Christmas and in this time read and commented on new work the writers generated. These writing sessions were supervised by myself and Patricia Henritze, another local Director and Playwright. Over the Christmas break the writers finished a working draft and by January 1 we began casting. In both iterations, the shows ran during the month of March, Women's History Month. Both projects received funding from The Georgia Bureau of Cultural Affairs and Council for the Arts.

ARTS | VISUAL ARTS
Femme fantasia
Peripheral Visions gives a nod to notorious females

BY CURT HOLMAN

Most surveys of the famous women of history focus on the role models and icons of the sort you'd find on a dollar coin -- your Susan B. Anthonys and Sacagaweas. Theatre Gael and Blue Machine consider the ladies of the flip side with Peripheral Visions, an evening of vignettes devoted to notorious females.

An off-shoot of the Marginal Women project of short plays (from which come three of the evening's 15 pieces), Peripheral Visions, offers a distaff rogue's gallery from history, literature and pop culture, ranging from Ophelia to Anna Nicole Smith, from notorious Transylvanian sadist Countess Elizabeth Bathory to Barbie and her pal Midge.

With the exception of director and Marginal Women co-founder David Crowe, Peripheral Visions features only women as performers, writers and directors. The cast includes Johanna Linden, Sharron Cain, Wesley Usher, Claire Bronson, Dede Bloodworth, with scripts written by such playwrights as Marki Shalloe, Karla Jennings, Shirlene Holmes, Kendra Myers and Lauren Gunderson, and directors including Carol Mitchell-Leon, Brenda Porter, Lorna Howley, Rachel May and Emily Pender.

Marginal Women: Peripheral Visions plays May 14-23 at the 14th Street Playhouse, 173 14th St., with performances at 8 p.m. Mon.-Wed. $10. 404-876-1138.

Private Eyes

Reality bites
Essential Theatre's Private Eyes remains faithful to fantasy

BY CURT HOLMAN

Steven Dietz's Private Eyes, part of Essential Theatre's Festival of New American Theatre, begins with an audition. Of course, in a larger sense, all theatrical productions begin with prospective players reading for roles, but Private Eyes' first scene literally finds an actress (Kathleen Wattis) trying out for a tough, off-putting director (Jeff Feldman).

In the scene within the scene, Wattis plays a waitress who discovers her customer is a movie star, and we see her play it twice: once alone, then with Feldman providing the other lines of the conversation. Wattis and Feldman alternate between playing star-struck waitress and matinee idol on one level and eager actress and confrontational director on another.

And in the next scene, Feldman's director finds himself at lunch, surprised to be served by Wattis' actress, who relishes the opportunity to turn the tables: "Frankly, your eating doesn't work for me!" But is this a "real" moment or another play within the play? Private Eyes is one of those plays that can't leave reality alone, in which flashbacks contradict each other and any encounter might turn out to be a fantasy or piece of stagecraft. Essential Theatre offers a funny and confident production of Dietz's play, which folds realities so often that it feels increasingly inconsequential, despite its clever dialogue and social insights.

In the genuine article, Matthew (Feldman) and Lisa (Wattis) are actors married to each other and performing in a play directed by British Adrian (Brian Turner). We learn that Adrian and Lisa have finished carrying on a backstage affair, which Lisa suggests they reveal to Matthew now that it's over. Adrian objects, "Imagine a world in which people just needlessly confess -- it would be barbaric!" But cuckolded Matthew might know more than he's let on, and for a while he seems alternately oblivious and menacing.

The dynamic gets an additional wrinkle with the presence of Matthew's shrink (Thomas Liychik), whose introduction makes Deitz's script seem increasingly out of control. The therapist recalls telling Matthew at their first meeting, "I'm Frank -- I hope you'll be," a groan-inducing line that's just the tip of an iceberg of contrivance. Frank occasionally interrupts the action to lecture the audience on the nature of truth and fidelity, and though Liychik has no Viennese accent, the role plays like the surprise appearance of Sigmund Freud in a comedy sketch.

But Frank does give Matthew justification to recall or imagine important scenes, like Act Two's presentation of Lisa and Adrian's early flirtation. While Adrian had only come across as an unenthusiastic adulterer before, Turner gets to show the director as an eccentric, intense, would-be theater artiste who amuses and intrigues Lisa. Private Eyes, directed by David Crowe, proves a play about sex that still manages to be sexy. When Adrian boldly compliments married Lisa's neck, Wattis turns away, but brushes her hair back to offer a better view of her throat.

At times the characters played by Feldman, Wattis and Turner show very different traits, but it's a credit to the actors that this comes across not as inconsistency but as a way of showing different facets of the same people. Jill Perry provides some funny moments as Cory, a quirky young woman who may be a waitress or may be a private eye ("I prefer the term 'dick,'" she remarks), although she seems more like a fictional creation than one of the play's flesh-and-blood parts.

Dietz provides lots of snappy dialogue and some shrewd observations about passion and commitment. But it's difficult to view the play without thinking of older scripts that did similar tricks more successfully, like Betrayal's affair in reverse. And compared to Private Eyes, Tom Stoppard's The Real Thing seems like, well, the real thing, with adulterous theater people finding themselves playacting scenes that parallel the events of their lives.

As the play nears its resolution, the lines seem to grow more clunky -- Lisa asks Adrian, "I was, what, your heart-sitter?" -- and the action folds in on itself so much you throw up your hands in despair of figuring out what's real and who's who. At least the Essential Theatre cast and direction stay solid even as Private Eyes becomes frustratingly ethereal, and you can appreciate the intelligence of much of the play, even though Dietz seems to ultimately outsmart himself.


Private Eyes plays in repertory through Feb. 2 at the Essential Theatre's Festival of New American Theatre, PushPush Theater, 1123 Zonolite Road, Suite 3, with performances at 8 p.m. Wed.-Sat. and 2 and 7 p.m. Sundays. $15. 404-876-8471.

Quilters

Quilters is a tribute to pioneer women, a dramatic history play with music that was developed at the Denver Theatre Center. This production at Georgia College and State University was performed mostly by music students who worked beyond their training to make it a really captivating production and a memorable rehearsal process. I haven't encountered such hard workers since ---

The Marriage of Bette and Boo

Theater
REVIEW
"The Marriage of Bette & Boo"
$9-$12. Dad's Garage Theatre, 280 Elizabeth St. N.E. Through May. 404-523-
3141.The verdict: Sublime misanthropy.
Strange bedfellows
Durang's comic `Marriage' skewers domesticity

BYLINE: Mark Binelli FOR THE JOURNAL-CONSTITUTION
DATE: May 9, 1997
PUBLICATION: The Atlanta Journal and The Atlanta Constitution
EDITION: The Atlanta Journal Constitution
SECTION: PREVIEW
PAGE: P9

Christopher Durang still appreciates a good dead-baby joke.

While most of us mature past this level of jest somewhere around pre- adolescence, Durang understands the comic value of leading sacred cows to the slaughterhouse. Along with stillborn infants, his outrageous "The Marriage of Bette & Boo" laughs at (not with) Catholic priests, alcoholics, the mentally ill and graduate students. It's epic misanthropy, inflated to outrageous proportions in a spirited, relentlessly funny Dad's Garage Theatre production. Nic Garcia stars as Matthew, the play's narrator and the only son of Bette (Kathleen Wattis) and Boo (John P. Gregorio). Emerging from the wings, he wryly introduces, comments upon and occasionally takes part in the action, all with a sort of doctoral-thesis dispassion. "If one looks hard enough," Matthew claims, in between Thomas Hardy references, "one can see order beneath the surface."

In the case of Matthew's family, one would need a pretty powerful microscope. Bette is a vacuous breeder, her life a series of miscarriages and mindlessly babbled monologues. She met Boo, she chirps immediately after the wedding, "sort of on the rebound ---he seems fine, though." But Boo insists on calling his dad about an insurance deal from their honeymoon bed, and he drinks, leading to heated arguments along the lines of "You can't vacuum gravy!"

Of course, the title couple's dysfunction is all relative to the rest of the extended family. Bette's sister Emily (a brilliant Heidi Cline) never quite calms her nerves enough to join the convent or to recover from a traumatic bout of stage fright involving a cello. Her sister Joan (Suzanne T. Horton) is as mean as she is pregnant. Father Paul (Ron Prather) speaks an unintelligible, mush-mouthed dialect, while mother Margaret (Sally J. Robertson) calmly knits and intones, "Paul, I've asked you not to speak. We can't understand you!"

As for Boo's side of the family tree, there's his cackling punching bag of a mother, Soot (Mary Ellen McCall), and her unbelievably cruel husband, Karl (Peter Haloulos), who also drinks and whose favorite phrase seems to be "Soot, you're the dumbest white woman alive!"

Obviously, "Bette & Boo" isn't for all tastes. Durang will seem sadistic and condescending to some, and to a degree, he's shooting fish in a barrel by taking aim at such grotesque caricatures. But there's something to be said for shock value, and Durang fleshes out all the inspired nastiness with a tireless wit.

Director David Crowe, meanwhile, proves equally gifted at satire, wrangling his large cast through a multitude of short, snappy scenes with much dexterity. Whether Matthew is explaining the origins of the modern holiday (invented, he says, by "Sir Ethelberg Holiday, a sadistic Englishman") or Father Donnally (Rob Parnell) is delivering one of the most memorable sermons you're likely to hear in any denomination (it includes an imitation of sizzling bacon and the rhetorical question "Why did God make people so stupid?"), "Bette & Boo" remains a hilarious dose of cynicism that's the perfect antidote for saccharine times.

Boo (John P. Gregorio) finds himself saddled with two strange sisters-in- law, Emily (Heidi Cline, left) and Joan (Suzanne T. Horton), after marrying. / Dad's Garage Theatre

Psycho Beach Party

THEATER: CATCH THIS

from THE ATLANTA JOURNAL CONSTITUTION

BYLINE: Kathy Janich; Staff
DATE: June 30, 2000
PUBLICATION: The Atlanta Journal and The Atlanta Constitution
EDITION: Home; The Atlanta Journal Constitution
SECTION: Preview
PAGE: Q5

Dad's Garage Theatre Company has a reputation for being a little out there, a little silly. Both describe its current production, the gender-bending, split-personality goof "Psycho Beach Party." Described innocently enough as a "campy spoof of the 1960s Gidget movies," it is much more than that. It's gaudy (dig those wild clothes), bawdy (dig those double-entendres), wicked and witty.

Charles Busch's script follows the teenage trials of a girl named Chicklet (Daniel May), whose life revolves around best friend Berdine (Alison Hastings) and the beach bums who teach her to surf. It seems happy-go-lucky enough until we learn that Chicklet has several alter egos (including a dominatrix) and a severe mother who strongly resembles a drag queen.

But enough about plot. May is cute and hilarious and, believe it or not, believable as Chicklet, the role originally played by Busch. Hastings, a Dad's regular, shines as the loyal, brainy Berdine. John Benzinger as head beach bum Kanaka sways amusingly between suave (Chicklet's teacher) and let-me-surrender, please (the dominatrix's chief target).

Director David Crowe keeps things tight and moving, from the surfing scenes in front of a projection screen to the scene starters by a couple of soda jerks. The recorded score will happily take you back a few decades.

"Psycho Beach Party" isn't for kids, but if you're all grown up, don't kid yourself. You'll have a blast.

Extended through Aug. 5. 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays. $12-$15. Dad's Garage Theatre Company, 280 Elizabeth St. N.E. 404-523-3141 or www.dadsgarage.com.


Photo: Beach blanket zanies: John Benzinger (left) as beach bum Kanaka and Daniel May as Chicklet in "Psycho Beach Party." /
Dad's Garage Theatre Company

from CREATIVE LOAFING

Beach blanket psycho
Psycho Beach Party hangs ten at Dad's Garage

BY CURT HOLMAN

07/01/00
Who was this person called "Gidget?" Why was Frankie Avalon called "the Big Kahuna"? Just what does "Hang ten!" mean? You don't need to know the answers to these questions to get a kick out of Pyscho Beach Party, Charles Busch's spoof of the teen beach movies of the 1960s. Fortunately for the Dad's Garage production of the play, you can get the jokes of Psycho Beach Party without having seen many -- or even any -- of that era's Gidget or Beach Party movies.

The campy setting of these and various Elvis-by-the-seaside films is instantly familiar, with a signature style that includes sun-drenched Malibu shores, dune buggies, rival surfers and dialogue that makes Archie comic books sound like Noel Coward. (Compare them to the teen flicks of today, the likes of She's All That and the rest of the Freddie Prinze Jr oeuvre, and you can scarcely find any style to satirize.)


John Benzinger and Daniel May in Psycho Beach Party


Directed by David Crowe, Psycho Beach Party nicely fits with the frivolity that Dad's Garage has come to specialize in, and even the outside of the theater is sporting luau decorations. Despite its forays into drag, S&M and multiple personality disorder, the production falls on the surprisingly mild side of outrageous, but still provides plenty of light entertainment for anyone who's been in the summer sun too long.

In a red, pig-tailed wig, Daniel May plays "Chicklet," a late bloomer among the teen beach bunnies. "She" explains that her nickname has nothing to do with chewing gum: "The other girls grew into chicks, but I became a chick-let." Chicklet becomes quickly caught up in the mystique of surfing and wants to shoot the tube herself, despite the derision of star surf bums Star Cat (Rob Beams) and the Great Kanaka (John Benzinger).

But our heroine is growing up in an abusive home, with Shawn Hale playing Chicklet's mother like Divine doing Faye Dunaway from Mommie Dearest. Before you can say "Sybil," Chicklet's displaying other personae, including a lusty femme fatale called Ann Bowman, who's cooking up a sinister plan.

Both guys in feminine garments, Hale and May offer two slightly different conceptions of drag. While Hale offers a business-as-usual female impersonation, May's Chicklet is a little different. Granted, he's a walking sight gag with his girl's swimsuit and masculine musculature, but having Chicklet played by a man almost works as a metaphor for an adolescent ugly duckling. "I'm built just like a boy!" she complains, putting on her top.

Psycho's sidekicks and supporting roles reveal the playwright's long memory for the beach party genre. Chicklet's pals include the oh-so-popular Marvel Ann (Stacy Melich) and the nerdy bookworm Berdine (Alison Hastings). Meanwhile, two of the male comic relief figures -- wiseguy Provoloney (Scott Warren) and husky, food-obsessed Yo-Yo (Christian Danley) -- begin feeling like more than "buddies" to each other.

Even though there's a mad shaver on the lose and a climactic scene with Chicklet under hypnosis -- dreamy Star Cat, we discover, took three semesters of Psychiatry -- Psycho's second act begins running out of steam. Having the cast do the Limbo and the Swim might be true to the period, but they make for rather tame dance numbers. There's the requisite surfing scene (the actors standing in front of a screen, like a fakey 1960s process-shot) and a talent show gone wrong, but you end up wanting more than Psycho delivers, like an actual musical number, a race on Dead Man's Curve, or even a cameo by a Paul Lynde-type.

Throughout, the cast commit themselves fully to their roles as sun-struck teens. Rescue and Recovery's Rob Beams gives Star Cat the amusingly proper combination of sensitivity, arrogance and vacancy, while, as Yo-Yo, Danley proves the theater season's most improbably dewy-eyed ingenue. Though Burdine's increasing fascination with existentialism (she calls Bettina "the feminine embodiment of the Nietzchean Superman") doesn't prompt many laughs, Hastings captures the role's kooky enthusiasm perfectly.

Originally titled Gidget Goes Psychotic, Psycho Beach Party proves broadly amusing, and you needn't be knowledgeable about the Gidget genre or admire drag shows to get a kick out of it. Perhaps some playwright a generation from now will give Baywatch the same treatment. u

Psycho Beach Party plays through July 22 at Dad's Garage Theatre Company, 280 Elizabeth St., with performances at 8 p.m. Thurs.-Sat. and 5 p.m. Sun. $12-15. 404-523-3141.

Juno & The Paycock

from THEATLANTA JOURNAL CONSTITUTION

THEATER: Theatre Gael's sad, shimmering 'Paycock'

BYLINE: Kathy Janich; Staff
DATE: November 10, 2000
PUBLICATION: The Atlanta Journal and The Atlanta Constitution
EDITION: Home; The Atlanta Journal Constitution
SECTION: Preview
PAGE: Q6

REVIEW

"Juno and the Paycock" Through Dec. 3. 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays; 5 p.m. Sundays. $12-$18. 14th Street Playhouse (Stage 3), 173 14th St. N.E. 404-876-9762, www.arthouse.com/gael.

The verdict: Staged with desperate humor and a big heart by the sons and daughters of Sean O'Casey.

Irish playwright Sean O'Casey once said that "comedy and tragedy step through life together, arm in arm."

And so they do in "Juno and the Paycock" (1924), his vivid recollection of lives lived hard and fast in the slums of Dublin during the Irish civil war.

"Juno," considered the greatest work of one of Ireland's greatest dramatists (1880-1964), is staged with heart and humor by Theatre Gael, which sets it in a snug 85-seat space, then fills the terrain with laughter and tears.

Gael's "Juno" opens with a shot -- a hail of bullets and a frightened, fervant "Hail, Mary." It's immediately clear that this is a dangerous world, one in which friends, neighbors and enemies count only on today, never a tomorrow.

This is the Boyle family's world: put-upon wife Juno (Joanna Daniel), who tries hard to hold the clan together with no help from her boorish, booze-swillin' husband, Captain Jack (Gene Ruyle). Daughter Mary (Lily Yancey), as political as she is pretty, but ultimately suckered by romance. Son Johnny (Nevin Miller), who lost an arm -- and more -- in the fighting, for his spirit seems as crippled as his slender, boyish frame. Into this mix trips Joxer Daly (Gael artistic director John Stephens), the Captain's parasitic, pub-hopping pal. Clearly a man who hasn't seen soap and water in some time, he's both sprite and gremlin.

In the course of O'Casey's two hours, we watch this family implode. Bad times beget good fortune. Good fortune begets more bad times. Separation, desertion and death lurk just beyond the door of their tenement hovel (set by Phil Santora, lights by Brigid Lynn Cappelletti).

The cast, conducted with care by Atlanta actor-director David Crowe, seems to savor the taste and feel of O'Casey's language. As the boastful peacock ("paycock") of the title, Ruyle is a character we both laugh at and loathe, while Daniel is the one we champion. Quiet, powerful work is turned in by Yancey's Mary, and especially Miller as the shaken, shell-shocked Johnny. Only Beth Dalton's Mrs. Madigan registers as false; she's funny enough, but her comic relief could come down a notch in volume (as could the entire show's ear-splitting soundscape).

To O'Casey, who turned to playwrighting after experiencing his homeland as a political rebel, poet, laborer and freedom fighter, "Juno" was a slice of Irish life, a reflection of the human condition as he saw it. Today, to the non-Irish among us, it is historical drama, a glimpse of a time gone by. To the modern-day Irish, it may be a case of the more things change, the more they stay the same. War is still waged on the Emerald Isle, young men still lost. To Gael, which is devoted to Celtic works, it's no doubt a calling. This time the theater answers the herald with a strong, clear voice.


Photo: The cast of Theatre Gael's "Juno and the Paycock" includes (from left) Nevin Miller, Lily Yancey, Gene Ruyle, John Stephens, Winslow Thomas and Joanna Daniel. / STEPHEN BRADLEY / Theatre Gael (Teaser)

FROM CREATIVE LOAFING

Trouble shooters
Tragedy surpasses comedy in Theatre Gael's Juno & Paycock

BY CURT HOLMAN

Written in the early 1920s, Sean O'Casey's Juno and the Paycock takes place in a Dublin tenement during the Troubles. But which Troubles? The rebellion against England in the first decades of the century? The IRA violence of more recent generations? Nobody knows all the Troubles the Irish have seen.

O'Casey's play, in fact, is set in 1922 during the Irish civil war that pit the "Free Staters," who support the treaty with England, against the "Die-Hards," who oppose it. The context of brother vs. brother gives the play a grim and violent backdrop, which stays in focus through the role of a mentally and physically wounded young son, played by Nevin Miller in Theatre Gael's production.

And yet Juno and the Paycock is also a comedy, provoking laughter with situations involving a bickering married couple, boozing loafers and bawdy neighborhood wenches. As in his The Shadow of a Gunman, O'Casey's 80-year-old plays place humor side by side with drama in a way that feels fresh and contemporary to modern audiences. Theatre Gael's staging, however, has more luck with the tragic than the comic.

Juno and the Paycock's shifts in tone reflect the turbulence of life in a 1920s Dublin tenement, where you never know who'll walk in your door. It could be a ruthless, politically motivated terrorist, it could be the grieving mother (Jackie Prucha) of a gunman's victim, or it could be merely an out-of-breath fellow asking "You don't happen to want a sewing machine?" while clutching the appliance to his chest.

We witness these comings and goings from the seedy living room of the Boyles, with mustard-colored walls (designed by Phil Santora) that you can almost smell. Prone to peacock-like pride (hence the title) is "Captain" Boyle (Gene Ruyle), who styles himself like a seasoned mariner, despite avoiding employment and having had little actual maritime experience. His household is kept together by his tough, long-suffering spouse (Joanna Daniel) nicknamed "Juno" for the month of June.

With a no-nonsense wife, a loud, blustering husband and his quirky sidekick (John Stephen's mooching Joxer), the play's dynamic anticipates "The Honeymooners." Juno brandishes a frying pan when Boyle and Joxer sneak in from carousing, while Boyle bemoans his strangely convenient leg pains whenever a job opportunity comes his way. Juno sneers at his show of ill health: "Don't be acting as though you couldn't pull the wings off a dead beetle."

Eking out an existence with their trade unionist daughter Mary (Lily Yancey) and mentally addled son Johnny (Miller), the Boyles see a chance to improve their situation when they get word of a handsome inheritance. Borrowing money against a small fortune they hope to receive, they redecorate their flat, buy new clothes and a phonograph and begin adopting the airs of the nouveau riche. "Hand me that 'attackee' case," Boyle tells Joxer.

Anyone who watches sitcoms will mistrust the prospect of such easy money, and the Boyles will see fate punish them in the second act. Knowing of Mary's romance with a self-taught lawyer (an amusingly self-important Winslow Thomas) and Johnny's involvement with violent agitators primes you to expect the worst. Throughout, Daniel convincingly plays a mother taught by cruel experience to harden her heart, and her despair at the end echoes the mourning mothers of all eras.

Her husband, however, never gets to reveal the same depths of feeling as Juno, which partly reflects how the role is written. Whether faced with angry creditors or plotting mischief with Joxer, Boyle's scenes nearly always play as comic relief to the more serious moments, and consequently Ruyle's work comes across as broad and cartoonish. Ruyle has a good foil in Stephens (who delivers his lines in a high-pitched brogue worthy of Mel Blanc), and Boyle's self-importance and scheming tend to be droll but dramatically slight.

Juno and the Paycock nicely suggests the boisterousness of Irish life, having numerous moments of singing or the recital of poetry. But the Theatre Gael production leaves you less tickled by the antics of Irish men than moved by the plight of the women. The sorrow of O'Casey's piece is quite effective, but as entertainment it's more troubled.

Juno and the Paycock plays through Dec. 3 at Theatre Gael, 14th Street Playhouse, 173 14th St., with performances at 8 p.m. Thurs.-Sat. and 5 p.m. Sun. $12-$16. Call 404-876-9762 for information.

Das Barbecu

A country-fried 'Ring' cycle

BYLINE: PIERRE RUHE

Staff
DATE: October 8, 2004
PUBLICATION: Atlanta Journal-Constitution, The (GA)
EDITION: Home; The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
SECTION: Movies & More
PAGE: H6


THEATER REVIEW

"Das Barbecu"

8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays; 2:30 p.m. Saturdays-Sundays. Through Oct. 24. $18-$25. Aurora Theatre, 3087-B Main St., Duluth. 770-476-7926, www.auroratheatre.com.

The verdict: Brunnhilde goes honky-tonk.

In the hilarious opening minutes of the country-and-western opera spoof "Das Barbecu," Aurora Theatre crams our confused heads with Wagner's 16-hour "Ring" cycle. That's the four-opera epic where fat singers traditionally wear horned helmets and belt their lungs out about everything from gods and giants to drugs and incest. It's really about the meaning of love.

There's a lot of plot to cover. So in a madcap rush of information, the "Barbecu" cast, under David Crowe's whip-smart direction, uses flashcards, gold hula hoops and a lecture on narcolepsy to force-feed us the story.

Very funny, but it's still too complicated.

So they start over, beginning a comically sentimental Texas-style musical about an arrogant man who has a house built and can't make the payments and so steals a golden ring -- the power of the universe -- for payment, then tries to steal it back. When his daughter disobeys him, he puts her to sleep inside a magic circle of fire, which is broken by his heroic grandson, who instantly falls in love with her (his aunt) till he (the young hero) gets tricked by a family of dastardly schemers who want the ring for themselves, but -- even the best plans can go awry -- the world is set on fire, then flooded. Curtain.

Summarizing the outrageous story is the point. Commissioned by the Seattle Opera to help novices understand Wagner's "Der Ring des Nieblungen," "Barbecu" is based on Wagner's plot but not his music. Scott Warrender's score is all easy-flowing pop-country -- with nods to honky-tonk, Western swing and Hank Williams -- highlighted by hummable tunes like "A Ring of Gold in Texas" and "Makin' Guacamole." Jim Luigs' book and lyrics are saucy and sly. His jokes are hit-or-miss, but there's a warm glow when he shapes his words for romantic exchanges. He gives the characters, for all the absurdity, flickers of humanity.

The real delight comes from the Aurora's alert cast, with five actors covering some 30 roles. It helps, too, that the fiddle-guitar pit band, led by Ann-Carol Pence, gives sure-footed musical accompaniment.

Brandon O'Dell, with a light, pleasant singing voice, plays the gawky hero Seigfried, the dwarf villain Alberich and a cancan-dancing soothsayer in drag, among other roles. His chemistry with Marcie Millard, as Brunnhilde, in the Texas two-step number "Slide a Little Closer," is surprisingly intimate.

Sandra Benton, authoritative in voice and given some choice lines addressed directly to the audience, holds the show together. As the long-suffering wife Fricka, she plays to stereotypes, both sassy and tormented. As hippy-dippy earth mother Erda, she's just serene enough to be believable. It doesn't matter that Anthony P. Rodriguez (Aurora's artistic director) can't hold a tune: He plays all his characters with rude, crude bluster. The energy level soars when he's onstage.

Then there's Aimee Diane Ariel, who has the least to sing yet is perversely charismatic as the love-starved Gutrune, a trashy, big-haired pipsqueak who runs around in cowboy boots and a wedding dress. More than the others, she owns her biggest role in "Barbecu" -- and gives this alternate-universe "Ring" cycle an oddly compelling reason for being.


Photo: Sandra Benton and Anthony P. Rodriguez in Aurora's wacko summarization of Wagner's opus. / Aurora Theatre

Beautiful Thing

FROM THE ATLANTA JOURNAL CONSTITUTION

THEATER: A 'Beautiful' season ender
Actor's Express' take on gay-themed cult classic is pure balm

BYLINE: WENDELL BROCK; Staff
DATE: June 7, 2002
PUBLICATION: Atlanta Journal-Constitution, The (GA)
EDITION: Home; The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
SECTION: Preview
PAGE: Q4

REVIEW

"Beautiful Thing"

8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays; 5 p.m. Sundays, except 2 p.m. Sunday and June 30 and July 21. Through July 27. $10-$25. Actor's Express, King Plow Arts Center, 887 W. Marietta St. N.W. 404-607-7469.

The verdict: One of the sweetest romantic comedies to grace the city's stages in a long time.



In Jonathan Harvey's "Beautiful Thing," the play and the movie, there's a certain scene in which Jamie, the fairer and softer of the two English lads at the center of this story, rubs lotion on the back of his friend Ste. The intimate moment is defused by the fact that Jamie keeps pattering on about the balm -- it's his mum's peppermint foot rub -- and the fact that Ste is marked with purple-black bruises from his father's beating.

And so begins this sweet and tender romantic comedy, now playing at Actor's Express, about the first blush of love, the queasy vertigo of being different and the place of compassion in a world in which anger and abuse are the more common responses. When Jamie's mother discovers he is gay, she is upset not so much because she's narcissistic but because she knows what a tough road her son has chosen. When she asks him why he's taken a shine to Ste, Jamie gives the only true answer he knows: "Because he's good to me."

That the drama starts on a note of unhappiness and conflict and dissolves into a picture of unalloyed kindness and love is probably why it's such a cult classic among those, particularly gay men, reckoning with their identity. Even Leah, the black next-door neighbor with an affinity for the music of Mama Cass and a sense of her own otherness, learns to accept herself and forgive her antagonists. Indeed, it's a "Beautiful Thing" all around.

As good as the 1996 film may have been, I found this theatrical telling to be infinitely richer. In his directorial debut as artistic associate of the Express, David Crowe not only acquits himself handsomely, he has also discovered a remarkable young performer in the person of Clifton Guterman, who plays Jamie.

In his first professional acting engagement, Guterman -- who is teamed with the very fine ensemble of Brian Crawford (Ste), Shelly McCook (as Jamie's mother, Sandra), Scott Warren (as Sandra's oleaginous boyfriend, Tony) and Aprylle Ross (as Leah) -- simply walks away with the show. With his pitch-perfect Brit-lad brogue and his impeccable comedic impulses, he at once nails the part and stamps it with originality. Under the shy, bespectacled and decidedly unathletic demeanor is a wag with a wicked sense of humor and a heart of gold.

Aside from a few crocodile tears, Guterman gets nearly every detail right -- from his "Cagney & Lacey" imitations to his comic retort to the gay personal he reads aloud to Ste. Crawford, an Emory University student who was a standout in the recent "30 Below" project with Out of Hand Theatre, more than holds his own as Ste (that's short for Steve). Along with his Emory classmate Raife Baker and now Guterman, Crawford is one of the rising stars on the Atlanta horizon.

As always, McCook (who will be replaced June 27 with Joanna Daniel) is terrific -- a daft but irascible mom. How absurd that anyone could be obsessed with Mama Cass, she scoffs at Leah. The minute she says that one shouldn't laugh at the obese singer who (as legend has it) choked to death, she erupts into the most raucous belly laugh. It's hysterical. Warren, a Dad's Garage Ensemble member, captures the slimy Tony without even seeming to try, while the high point of Ross' performance as Leah is her tragicomic acid trip.

By opening his season with "The Laramie Project" (about the Matthew Shepard case) and closing it with "Beautiful Thing," Actor's Express artistic director Wier Harman has achieved a kind of symmetry that makes the sum of the two shows even more moving. In thinking back over the two productions, I couldn't help thinking how Shepard's life might have been different if he'd found the same compassion that visits Jamie and Ste.

Unlike the fact-based "Laramie Project," "Beautiful Thing" is an urban fairy tale with a happy ending. Onstage, we see Jamie fulfill the dream that eluded Matthew Shepard: to be held in the arms of another man -- and not be mocked or crucified for it. Actor's Express gets it just right.


from CREATIVE LOAFING

Queer as folk
Beautiful Thing maintains its status as a gay touchstone

BY CURT HOLMAN

The amazing thing about Beautiful Thing is how it makes a radical statement out of puppy love. The scruffy 1996 film of a romance blossoming between British teens only breaks ground because they're boys of high school age. Otherwise, Beautiful Thing proves a charmingly conventional take on first love, and in part by avoiding heavy-headed gender politics, the film became a transcontinental sleeper hit.

Because many gay people don't come out of the closet or aren't comfortable with their sexuality at the age of Beautiful Thing's young leads, the movie has become a touchstone of identification and what-might-have-been wish fulfillment. This is the case with Jonathan Harvey's original stage play, which has been imported to the States thanks to the film's success.

If you've seen the movie, the Actor's Express production, directed by David Crowe, will hold few surprises. The play's five characters have somewhat more expanded roles than onscreen, making the work akin to a "director's cut" of the play script. Beautiful Thing offers a sweet love story and realistic slice of impoverished London life, although it's not a very substantial work.

Young neighbors Jamie (Clifton Guterman) and Ste (Brian Crawford) each have difficult family lives. Ste's bullying brothers and abusive father never appear on stage, but we do glimpse the bruises that stripe Ste's back. Jamie never knew his father, but he frequently butts heads with his tart-tongued single mum, Sandra (Shelly McCook). And Sandra has hostile relations with Leah (Aprylle Ross), the black, pregnant teen who lives next door and is obsessed with Mama Cass.

With walls as thin as cheesecloth, the three adjacent flats hold few secrets. Rochelle Barker's set provides an unattractive but realistic rendering of the housing estate's front landing. In some places the walls have a worn, nearly transparent appearance, making the flats look like a row of storage lockers. The walls open up to reveal Jamie's bedroom, where some of the play's most poignant moments take place.

Ste begins spending the night at Jamie's to escape the neverending rows at home. At first, Guterman and Crawford have the easy interplay of adolescent pals, but they become touchingly tentative as they discover their attraction to each other. Guterman's Jamie is the more sexually forward, while athletic Ste is more shy and self-conscious.

Most of the play takes place in front of the flats. Some of the profane chat involves the lore of Mama Cass, as the characters wonder what kind of sandwich she choked on and whether her voice really improved after a blow to the head (which Leah tries to duplicate). Before entering, you should study the theater's posted glossary of Britishisms, as the South London slang and references to English television get thick. But Shelly McCook thrives on them, with her Sandra alternating from broadly clownish to sympathetically maternal. (After June 23, she'll be replaced by the estimable Joanna Daniel.)

Beautiful Thing is subtitled "An Urban Fairy Tale," which might be Harvey's way of justifying his rosy depiction. Sandra ultimately proves supportive of the two boys, but we never see the reaction of Ste's family, making the drama seem unbalanced waiting for a shoe that never drops. Nevertheless, the opening night crowd wholly embraced it, snapping fingers along with the Mama Cass music, whooping at double entendres (even when none were intended) and in some cases, tearing up at the end. Beautiful Thing may not be a complex or ambitious piece of theater, but for many audiences, it hits close to home.

Beautiful Thing plays through July 27 at Actor's Express, King Plow Arts Center, 887 W. Marietta St. Thurs.-Sat. at 8 p.m. Sun. at 5 p.m. $20-$25. 404-607-7469. www.actorsexpress.com.