Performance

Gary Tischler • September 13, 2012

It’s hard to doubt that somewhere in the course of a long career of jabbing Texas politicians and officials with the written-word equivalent of a cattle prod that some state senator or party chairman or Bush family hanger-on, with teeth-clenched respect, allowed that she had a set of male equipment, the highest compliment a man can pay a woman he’s not trying to sleep with, but who makes him nervous anyway.

Whatever the case, Molly Ivins didn’t need it. She had something better—flat-out, unrepentant courage.

Now, she’s got something almost as good to help keep her memorable wit and entirely human qualities alive: She’s got Kathleen Turner, who stars as Ivins in “Red Hot Patriot: The Kick-ass Wit of Molly Ivins,” now at Arena Stage’s Arlene and Robert Kogod Cradle Theater through Oct. 28.

It’s as if Ivins, who died in 2007 from breast cancer, was once again delivering political thunderbolts that made you proud, laugh, or squirm, depending on who you were, with her syndicated column, in a long career as a journalist from the New York Times to the Texas Observer.

Turner—movie star, outspoken supporter of liberal and progressive causes, mother, award-winning stage actress, and a still hot memory in the minds of many male movie goers of the 1980s for her performance as the femme fetale in the noirish “Body Heat”—is a perfect fit to march onstage and be Molly Ivins. If Turner’s famous voice—a rough shade deeper than in her “Body Heat” days, but just as impossible to ignore—has an equivalent somewhere, the words in Ivins’s column fit the bill, so it’s terrific that Turner’s speaking her words out loud. They’re going to echo loudly.

There’s a I’ll-do-it-my-way quality to both women. You can hear it over the telephone in an interview with Turner, or the way she tackled a glaring spotlight—“Whoa…can you give me a break here?”—as she sat down for a Newseum event, “An Evening with Kathleen Turner,” moderated by Shelby Coffey III, remembered here as the former Post Style section editor, and in the company of Margaret Engel, who co-wrote “Red Hot Patriot” with her twin sister Alison.

“That was fun,” she said of the Newseum event, “I like having fun.” Over the phone, the voice is down to a light roar, like a mother bear in a relaxed mode.

“I think we share some things. We have, I know, the same outlook, similar causes and political tendencies,” she said. “I am, if you did not know it, a member of People for the American Way. I am a chairman for Planned Parenthood. I support Amnesty International, among other causes.” Ivins wore her politics, which was liberal mixed in with a little verbal rage and lots of passion and in-your-face-humor.

Verbally, or on paper, both women share a common outspokenness, a big life story and a bigger-than-life-persona.

They could make an impression one way or another: Ivins with her 6-foot-1 presence and bright red hair; Turner with her physical sensuality, her voice, her acting chops, her movie star quality and directness. They both have led somewhat turbulent lives. It’s the nature of the beast when you become a movie star early on, although Turner objects to the “overnight” description. “I’d been working for quite a while. So, it’s not like I hadn’t been around,” she said of her, well, overnight rise to mega-stardom in “Body Heat.” “It was disconcerting, sure, with all the attention, the movie star thing, and it’s tough to handle.”

Her body of film work contains more unforgettable gems, which overrides the dross. You couldn’t get a better jump stardom jump start than “Body Heat,” “The Man With Two Brains” (in which she was as funny as Steve Martin), “Crimes of Passion,” “Romancing the Stone”, the hit woman to Jack Nicholson’s hit man in “Prizzi’s Honor,” and the remarkable movie about a marriage gone bad and mad, “The War of the Roses.”

“We [Michael Douglas and director Danny DeVito] were all proud of that,” she said. “That ending, the three of us had to fight for that, we battled with the studio on it and won.”In “Roses”, the movie took itself to where it was headed all along, and it was not a happy ending.

If you look for both women on YouTube, you see something else, the quality of sharp humor, insistence that attention must be paid. It’s mixed with tough honesty, evidence of big lives lived richly, with wind warnings.

“Molly could fill a room. She had presence. She cared passionately about politics. She had a huge heart,” Turner said of Ivins. “It’s important to me that I do her justice when I’m on that stage being her. The humor has to be there, and it is. Doesn’t matter where you are, people respond to that. I admired her immensely, no question.”

Ivins was no question, liberal-left, or as she’s quoted as saying in the press materials: “I am a liberal and proud of it. Fish gotta swim, and hearts gotta bleed.”

To her, work was everything: she left the New York Times, or was let go, depends who’s talking, to return to work in Texas, a base from which she blasted Texas politics and political figures.

Listen to Turner talk about the stage—where she was a triumphant Martha in a revival of “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” by Edward Albee—you can hear some of the passion that Ivins must have felt when the words were rolling sharply and perfectly. “There is nothing like it,” she said of being on stage. “There’s a connection, a kind of conspiracy with the audience, that you are here at a moment that will never be repeated, that this is special, original, one-of-a-kind. I feel that way every night. It’s always fresh.”

For Ivins, Turner said she did not do any special research. “The words are already there, and you have to trust that. But I want the humor to be out there. I like making people laugh, making them crack up.”Things were not always top-of-the-world for Turner. In 1992 she was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, a debilitating disease which left her in constant pain. “I was told I might not walk again,” she said.

Still, she’s persevered. She remains in the ring, on stage, active in politics, and here in Washington, you can expect to see her at numerous events. And until the end of October, you can find her on stage at the Kogod Cradle, resurrecting Molly, making people think, making people laugh as the 2012 election campaign rolls on to its conclusion like a severe weather warning.
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Gary Tischler • August 20, 2012

It’s August, and in the course of a hot summer month 50 years ago, screen icon, sex symbol, tragic muse to many a play and novel, actress Marilyn Monroe died of an overdose, in somewhat mysterious and still speculated about circumstances. She was only 36 years old. Her ex-husband American baseball legend Joe DiMaggio for years afterwards brought flowers to her tomb in Hollywood.

The American Film Institute is commemorating the 50th anniversary of her passing with a special series of some of Monroe’s finest films through Sept. 16 at its Theatre and Culture Center in Silver Spring.

The selected films show off the character of Monroe’s gifts, talents, and charisma and hold a key to understanding the hold she has on American imagination. Some of the films may date in content and style, but her gifts continue to shine through.

Monroe was not the first sex symbol brought forth by films, nor the last. She was not America’s sweetheart or the most beautiful woman ever to grace the silver screen, but she was a kind of dream that men—and women, those that dream of fame, glory, stardom and celebrityhood and its contents and discontents—still dream. For men of pretty much all ages of that time—young boys, cads, millionaires, intellectuals and muscle boys, even a president—she was a kind of reality show. She had a kind of welcoming openness that made you think about idle prospects if only you might be sitting at the same lunch counter with her.

Her life was also something of a cautionary tale of the price of fame, how debilitating and crushing a burden it could become as it was for her. She married an American sports legend and an American intellectual and literary legend, which speaks to her need for adoration and intellectual respect. Neither worked out: Joe DiMaggio’s departure being brief, having mistakenly assumed that she could turn Marilyn into a good Italian boy’s housewife. The marriage with Arthur Miller lasted longer, and resulted in two offspring for Miller, the screenplay for “The Misfits” and the classic play “After the Fall.”

She was quotable, and stories and rumors surrounded her like a light mink coat. “What do you have on when you’re in bed?” she was asked. “The radio,” she replied. And, having entertained the troops in South Korea amid huge adulation, she told her husband the New York Yankees’ Joltin’ Joe, “You’ve never heard such cheering.” He replied: “Yes, I have.”

Among the AFI’s selected films: “Monkey Business,” a black-and-white dizzy comedy with Cary Grant, with whom she held her own in the banter and laughs department; “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,” in which she was the gold-digginest of blondes alongside busty brunette Jane Russell, singing “Diamonds Are a Girls Best Friend”; “The Prince and the Showgirl,” in which she was an appealing showgirl to Laurence Olivier’s rather dour prince; “How to Marry a Millionaire,” standing and wiggling tall next to Betty Grable and Lauren Bacall; a classic and beautiful and affecting performance as a showgirl courted by a cowboy in “Bus Stop”; the dark thriller “Clash By Night”; the sharp, tightly written “The Asphalt Jungle,” in which she had a small but, as always, memorable part as a gun moll; and the unforgettable and by-now classic “The Misfits”.

Legends have grown up around this drama about a woman in Reno for a divorce, hooking up with modern cowboys Clark Gable and Montgomery Clift under the direction of John Huston.

By all accounts it was a tough shoot: Marilyn popping pills and late all-the-time; Clift not much better in his declining years; Gable dying of a heart attack soon after shooting’s end; Miller battling with Marilyn and Huston. It was perhaps Gable’s finest film, and he said as much after seeing rushes. The movie haunts and all the people are haunting and haunted by it. Another writer and I heard Eli Wallach, who played Gable’s buddy talk about it years ago over a lunch interview at Georgetown’s departed classic saloon and restaurant, Nathan’s. Wallach resurrected the film and Monroe before our eyes as if it were yesterday.

It was yesterday, 50 years ago.

For information on the Monroe movie commemoration, visit the AFI website.

Gary Tischler • August 10, 2012

Ever wonder why Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company and artistic director Howard Schalwitz refuse to lose their edge, get stale, play safe, stay full of surprises that pop out consistently out of their burlap sack that they call theater?

Go see “Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play,” by the astonishingly gifted playwright Ann Washburn and wonder no more. Washburn induces a state of wonder, provokes, makes you squirm and laugh, and think about tomorrow, if you’ve stopped doing that.

To be fair, “Mr. Burns” won’t be everyone’s cup of gizmo tea, but then nothing at Woolly ever is. I watched what seemed to be the beginnings of quite a lengthy argument between a couple who saw the action before them on the stage quite differently, the kind of thing that can only happen at a theater, a political debate, a demonstration or a football game.

Washburn accomplishes this by imagining a post-apocalyptic world—to climax Woolly’s apocalyptic-themed season—inhabited by a rabbity group of survivors in an America where the grid has broken down, nuclear generators have erupted, and the population has been reduced to an unforgivingly small number. How would people—any sort of people—react to this, what would they choose to remember, cherish, reject? What cultural artifacts would remain within them just waiting to be retold?

How about “The Simpsons”?

That’s right, “The Simpsons,” the hugely popular adultish cartoon sitcom which created a host of fans, some of them fanatics on the Star Trek order, with a large volume of shows to embrace and clutch dearly to their hearts, like talking teddy bears. That’s what a group of disparate but not yet desperate survivors more or less thrown together in a woody Northwest area begin to do, at first starting to grapple with their shared memory of “The Simpsons,” then slowly focusing on a particularly cherished and legendary episode, a parody of the Martin Scorcese’s remake of “Cape Fear,” starring Robert DeNiro, called “Cape Feare.”

You don’t have to (although it must surely help) be a “Simpsons” fan—I have never watched a full episode but have friends who had a Bart Simpson puppet in their window—to get what’s happening or even join in. It’s people—frightened, tentative, afraid to let go of the past which has just been essentially destroyed—trying to recreate it, as civilizations always have. By remembering the sleekly villainous Sideshow Bob or Bart cowering in a movie theatre in front of him because of death threats, they remember moments. More than that, these people, these characters take it further, in later years, as they form a traveling performing company—reminiscent of traveling carnivals, mystery plays, circus and amateur theater groups of yore—trading in memories of “Simpsons” scripts, trying at the same time to rebuild a culture.

It sounds odd—and it is creepy weird and touching—but it’s also amid all the outrageousness, a portrait of something important, an illustration of how ordinary folks embrace a culture of sorts. It may be that, as a society, we might not remember high culture, but some form of culture broadly shared, not Ophelia necessarily and not Homer’s Illiad but Homer Simpson.

As a group, the characters are hard to remember as named individuals, but impossible to forget as people. Initially, they carry with them guns, booklets with lists of names of people—relatives, friends, lovers, the local mechanic, who might have survived. We don’t know who they are exactly, what they did, where they specifically lived, what or who they lost. They sear themselves into our own dreams by the way they behave and that’s a function of the gifts of the actors.

There is, for instance, the magnificently-voiced Gibson, played with awesome affect by Chris Genebach—he’s tall, bald, gleaming almost, with a way of speaking that echoes manly singing, with the added plus that he can do Gilbert and Sullivan. There’s the thin, bounding Maria, played movingly, like some wounded Jackie-in-the-Box windup ballerina by Jenna Sokolowski, and the affecting, singular and insistent Matt, played by Steve Rose, and Jenny, hesitant, pushy, kind of daffy and sexy, and mysteriously affecting as played by Kimberly Gilbert, a Woolly regular who keeps getting better and better every year.

Much of this is very funny—the attempts to reproduce commercials of the period, to wit — and profoundly funny-sad. Consider a moment when one of the characters insists that Homer and Bart be authentic and real. “They’re cartoons for God’s sake,” another insists. “You can’t hurt them.” It’s a big issue: what we invest, how much of our hearts and souls, in our culture.

The test of the play is the last part in which we see the real thing, or as close as it gets: Mr. Burns (the people-hating, sleazy and greedy nuclear plant owner in the TV series) revealed as the villain, and the Simpsons in horrible peril. Is it real, or is it memories?

How we respond as individuals and members of a group—we, the audience—is what decides the fate of the play, of course, which is the first step toward renewal in a post-apocalyptic world—or in a world that is changing faster than the speed of sight.

“Mr. Burns” runs at the Woolly Mammoth Theatre at 641 D Street, N.W., through July 1. [gallery ids="100838,126124" nav="thumbs"]

Gary Tischler •

You got trouble, right here in River City, Harold Hill, Marian the Librarian Paroo and 76 trombones.
Sound familiar?

You guessed it. It’s “The Music Man,” an American musical classic, and just the kind of show, set in small-town America, populist and popular, made for endless summer stock and dinner theater seasons — and the kind of show critics looking for songs from the dark side love to sneer at.

In other words, like a fast ball over the plate for Babe Ruth, it’s perfect for artistic director Molly Smith and Arena Stage. They hit Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Oklahoma” out of the park in Arena’s pressure-filled inaugural offering at its expensive new digs in Mead Center for American Theater by making the venerable musical feel as fresh and as good as a dream dreamed last night.

It’s also perfect for Broadway musical stars Kate Baldwin (as Marian the very same librarian), and Burke Moses as Harold Hill, that sly salesman-con man brimming with enthusiasm and rascally charm as he tries to sell the folks of River City on the idea of a full-blown boys band complete with bright uniforms. Hence, the 76 trombones’ song.

Baldwin and Moses in a conference call just before a scheduled mid-day rehearsal revealed themselves to be American musicals enthusiasts and veterans, who see the form as fresh and challenging, a boon for audiences.

“It’s an American classic, and I’ve been dying to play Marian, because there’s so much to the role,” Baldwin said. “She’s a complicated woman, she’s a librarian and a music teacher. So, for this small town, she’s sort of the keeper of the cultural flame.”

“It’s one of those musicals you grow up with–that and “West Side Story,” which came out around the same time,” Moses said.

“The Music Man” by Meredith Wilson made its debut in 1957 and won out over the then-somewhat revolutionary “West Side Story” for the Tony Award for best musical. It starred Robert Preston, brimming with confidence and energy as Harold Hill, and newcomer Barbara Cook as Marian. Coincidentally, Cook will be appearing at the Kennedy Center in June.

Both Baldwin and Moses bridled at the idea that reprises and revivals of shows like “The Music Man” are somehow old fashioned. “They get done because they’re great shows,” said Baldwin, who dazzled on Broadway in “Finian’s Rainbow” and regionally in “My Fair Lady.” Baldwin, who has worked with Molly Smith before at Arena Stage when Smith reprised what was then a rarely done revival of “South Pacific,” said, “I think she [Smith] has a genius for making shows like this fresh and meaningful for contemporary audiences.”

“Let’s look at it this way,” Moses said. “What kind of opera season would you have if you did only new operas? If you stopped doing ‘Butterfly’ or ‘Aida’ because they’re old fashioned? Well, it’s the same for revival of classic musicals like ‘The Music Man.’ “

Smith has found a way to make her vision of “The Music Man” resonate for today’s audiences by setting it not in turn-of-the-century America circa the early 1900s but in Depression-era Iowa. The town is hurting, colorless and here comes this man with this energy and all this color. It shows the possibility that Hill, a con man, will run off with the money he’s raising for school band uniforms, a real disaster for a small town. On the other hand, it asks: what could raise the spirits of a struggling small town more than the prospect of band music and colorful uniforms?

“I know what it’s like to be a salesman,” Moses said. “And what it’s like to be Hill. In college, I sold quasi-encylopedias and children’s books, door to door. I can’t say I was very good at it. I did Harold Hill in summer stock when I was somewhat younger. Back then, you didn’t know quite what I was doing. I really love the part now. You embrace that energy.”

Hill is the con man who cautions the River City folks about the dangers of pool and sells them on the exuberant joyful noise of music in “76 Trombones” and, in his way, courts the shy but also eager Marian.

“What I’ve learned to do in preparing for this is to do what Kate tells me to do,” he said. “It’s easier that way. Naw, I love Kate. She just sort of sweeps you up.”

So, what about Marian, the librarian, and how do you prepare for that? “Well, I read a lot,” Baldwin quipped. “It’s such a cliche. She’s complex, she’s brave, she’s this cultural figure in town. But Hill kind of surprises here: he makes her broaden her horizons and think of new ideas.”

“Hill is an outsider,” Moses said. “Although she’s very much a part of the town, she’s also an outsider. He’s the guy who jazzes things up.”

Musically, “it’s a joy to sing the songs in this show,” said Baldwin, who has a highly-praised soprano voice. “I’m like this frog horn, next to this beautiful voice,” Moses added. That’s probably being a little modest since he originated the role of Gaston in the Disney-Broadway production of “Beauty and the Beast.”

“What I really would like to do, in terms of a bucket-list item, is “Sweeney Todd,” Moses said. “Hill and Sweeney … like light to dark.”

Talking with them, as the actors bantered, seems after a while like you’re in the room, waiting for rehearsal, waiting, even eager, for showtime. “Well, actually, I’m a little sleep deprived,” Baldwin said. “Colin, my one-year-old whom I have with me here, woke me up at 6:30 this morning.”

(“The Music Man” runs at Arena’ s Fichandler Theatre through July 22. Directed by Molly Smith, with choreography by Parker Ease and musical direction by Lawrence Goldberg, the cast also includes Will Burton, Juliane Godfrey, Nehal Joshi, John Lescault, Barbara Tirrell, Lawrence Redmond and others as well as five D.C.-area youths–Ian Berlin, Heidi Kaplan, Jaimie Goodson, Colin James Cech and Mia Goodman–chosen from an all-day casting call.) [gallery ids="102453,121098,121103" nav="thumbs"]

Gary Tischler •

It’s summer, which means summer movies, which means the usual suspects from the pages of comic books—Batman, Spider-Man, the Avengers. It means the lemurs from “Madagascar” and the red-headed cartoon girl from “Brave.” It means Tom Cruise as a rocker and two Charlize Theron movies.

You wouldn’t think that summer movies meant documentaries, but they do in Silver Spring. It’s been that way for ten years, which means it’s the tenth anniversary of the American Film Institute Silverdocs Festival with a slew of top-drawer documentaries, symposiums and the presence of some of the world’s top documentary filmmakers, directors and producers, June 18-24 at various venues in Silver Spring, including the AFI Silver.

It means there’ll be films like the opening night screening of “Don’t Stop Believin’, Everyman’s Journey,” about the rise of Filipino singer Arnel Pineda from local folk hero in the Philippines to frontman for the never-say-die rock band Journey (Monday at 7 p.m. and June 24 at 12:15 p.m.). It means films like the festival closer “Big Easy Express,” directed by Emmett Malloy about the journey of three American roots-style bands—Mumford & Sons, Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros and Old Crow Medicine Show—on a six-stop tour from California to New Orleans (June 23 and 24).

It means documentary film takes on the resurgence of Detroit, on the band Metallica, on artist Wayne White, theater legend Joe Papp and the grand dame Texas liberal legend and governor Ann Richards, and such serious matters as a hair-raising meeting of the Texas School Board of Education, among the many, many films to be screened, many of them world premieres, first-time-evers, all of them, in one way or another about real life, real people, not reel people.

With real persons and not reel persons, that also means the screening of “Plimpton,” a kind of life-and-times portrait of the the late George Plimpton, reporter, writer, loving WASP to his Exeter core, literary editor, party thrower, actor in films and commercials and Sports Illustrator writer who tried to embrace what he wrote about by doing it—playing golf, pitching to major leaguers and, most famously, playing quarterback for the Detroit Lions (“Paper Lion,” a book and then a movie starring Alan Alda).

“Plimpton” is a loving, eyes-wide-open documentary on the man’s life, with numerous interviews with the people who knew him best—his widow Sarah Plimpton, fellow literati and writers, athletes, family members and people who just loved being around him.

“Plimpton,” the documentary, which screens June 21 and 23, is the work of co-directors Tom Bean and Luke Poling, two 30-something film-makers but also first-timers, who’ve been working on the film for well over four years, interviewing, researching, editing film clips and sorting through huge amounts of materials.

It’s also the work of producer Adam Roffman, who has been the director of Independent Film Festival Boston for ten years. He has been a producer on five independent films and earned his keep by piling up numerous credits on major studio films as set decorator and director.

If that name rings a bell to some of our readers, that’s not surprising: Adam is the son of David Roffman, the former owner and publisher of the Georgetowner who recently retired from the newspaper and now lives in Alabama with his wife Carmen.

The word, “producer,” is one of the most used titles in the film industry. “Yeah, sometimes you never know who’s doing what and at what point in the creation of the movie,” Roffman said. “In this case, I’m working on the tail end of the production, making sure that it is screened, that it gets into festivals, that it gets talked about and known and seen — something I know a little bit about,” he said. “And I think the guys have come up with a terrific film, about an original American character.”

Roffman founded and became Independent Film Festival Boston’s only director ever ten years ago and used to report yearly in the Georgetowner from the Robert Redford’s Sundance Film Festival. In the IMDB directory, he is listed as on-set dresser (or set director), with work on such highly respected Ben Affleck-directed films as “The Town,” “Gone Baby Gone,” “27 Dresses,” the Mel Gibson-starrer “Edge of Darkness” and the soon-to-be-released “Ted,” featuring Mark Wahlberg in the company of a come-to-life potty mouthed teddy bear.

“It’s a real pleasure to work with somebody like Affleck,” Roffman said. “He surrounds himself with people he can learn from, the top people in the business in terms of actors, cinematographers and film professionals.” (Affleck was at Georgetown University June 14 with Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and others for “Child Survival: Call to Action.”)

As for Roffman, “Plimpton” co-director Bean said. “You want to know about Adam? Well, in Boston, he’s considered the unofficial mayor of the Boston film industry. I mean we have this film we’ve loved putting together, but we don’t know how to get it seen. That’s where Adam has been terrific. He’s a real generous guy. Let me tell you, he’s been a huge help.”

“We’ve read a lot and heard a lot and knew a lot about Plimpton,” Bean said. “I guess he was kind of huge back in the 1970s and ’80s. But his fame has kind of faded, and we wanted a whole new generation of people to know about him, appreciate him and what he did and the life he led.”

“Principally, we got inspired to do this because we love to read books, we love literature,” Bean said, giving rising to hope that in literary terms, all is not quite yet lost.

“People, it turned out, were happy to talk to us. So, you’ve got this whole bunch of people on film, talking, telling stories, and there’s there’s clips, interviews, quotes.

The film has that voice of Plimpton, who had that upper-class, New England veneer and was to the manor AND manner born, but never sounded as if he was talking down to anyone. Otherwise, Plimpton might not have survived being tackled by a Lion. He was the first editor of the Paris Review, the legendary, hugely respected literary review which included the best work of the post-war generation of serious and gifted writers.

“There was nobody like him,” Bean said. “That’s basically why we had him narrate the film with his own voice.”

Plimpton died at the age of 76 in 2003 of a heart attack. “I think sometimes making this movie was our chance to be with him. It was a great experience,” Bean said.

For a full schedule of screenings, events, locations and venues and film information go to SilverDocs.com. [gallery ids="100863,127053,127059,127065,127072,127077,127085,127090,127097,127105,127047,127041,127035,127134,127002,127127,127009,127123,127015,127117,127022,127029,127110" nav="thumbs"]

Gary Tischler •

People forget. Larry Kramer won’t let you.

There was a time in the early 1980s when gay men all over the country were dying at an alarmingly increasing rate of an unidentified disease which killed their immune system and no one seemed to notice.

Kramer, a gay writer and activist, noticed, because people he knew died, because the disease, invisible, undiagnosed, unresearched seemed to be all around him in New York. He wanted others—including his peers in the gay community who were living in what they thought was a free-love golden age—to stand up and take action.

In 1985, he wrote a play called “The Normal Heart,” which debuted on Broadway and shocked the world in its chronicle of the early fight against AIDS, when the disease did not have a name and went unrecognized, devastating the gay community, but also already spreading outward.

It told the story of a Kramer stand-in, an abrasive writer named Ned Weeks and his friends, and his battle to make the world, the government, gays themselves see what was happening. Weeks is a hyperbolist, a man with apocalyptic tendencies, urgent, impolite, impolitic, insensitive, passionate and complete out of control and in focus in his crusade. “The Normal Heart” is the story of his battle, with and against his friends, including a closeted gay named Bruce, who is a banker and former Green Beret who wants to work from the inside. There’s the embattled, ferocious doctor named Emma Brookner who first notices the diseases and some of its symptons, there’s Ned’s straight brother who tries reluctantly to help, there’s Felix Turner, a New York Times fashion writer who becomes Weeks’s lover and various activists, officials and victims to-be.

In 1985, the play startled New York and the country’s audiences with its hard-driving, polemical and super-charged, dramatic style and also moved them.

Today, after millions of deaths, and almost 30 years later, a new production of “The Normal Heart” at Arena Stage (and after a critically acclaimed revival in New York ) has astonishing power. It seems as fresh as it was in its debut, perhaps even more so because time has worked its insidious ways by making people, if not forget, allow themselves a considerable distance from what remains a worldwide crisis.

The play—directed by George C. Wolfe—retains its power and gains some, too. You shouldn’t be surprised if you notice, especially in the emotionally charged second act, that people around you are wiping away tears or sobbing, or for that matter, if you are, too. Mind you, there is not an ounce of sentimentality in this play: it’s as clean as a knife to the heart. Kramer has taken care not to create martyrs or characters who are types. That unaffected uniqueness shows through especially with Weeks, who on the surface is the least likely person to lead a crusade, he’s loud, driven, he hurts people without trying, and he has a desperate need for love. “The Normal Heart” is always about people in a moment of extreme crisis — they fight, they battle, they cling to each other, and they yell and shout and weep and cry out.

If need screams at government officials for not caring, Weeks is tough on himself and the gay community. “We’ve got to stop thinking we’re just about sex. We’re Michelangelo, we’re DaVinci, we’re Socrates and Alexander the Great, we’re Keynes and Porter,” he says. “. . . And we’ve got to stop doing this [casual sex]. We’re killing ourselves.”

No one thanks him for his observations.

Weeks display a combative style. Confronted with the prospect of love, however, he becomes a puppy who thinks he doesn’t deserve his lover.

This production never lets up and when the disease draws closer, it grabs you by the throat and shakes you up—or in the street vernacular—messes you up. Bruce’s lover dies and he recounts a harrowing experience to take him home to Arizona, the doctor unleashes a jeremiad against the government and medical community and Weeks’s lover becomes ill.

Our hearts swell and crack in those moments. No one, I think, at that point can feel separate from the stage and the people on it.

In a host of outstanding performances, Patrick Breen as the combative, bristling, enraged and enraging Weeks is so kinetic that you start to feel toward him exactly as his friends and allies do. Luke MacFarlane as Turner has—like the character must—charm to burn until the bitter end when he himself is consumed. Patricia Wettig—of television’s “Brothers & Sisters” and “Thirtysomething” fame among many credits—gives a blunt, brave coating to the doctor, in a wheelchair for most of her life because of polio—and her outburst in the second act inevitably draws cheers.

The play is performed against a background of a list of victims’ names and headlines, which grows during the course of the two-and-a-half hour run—I spotted without trying Liberace’s name. Suddenly, you remember where you were and where you are.

“I’m exhausted,” a woman walking out said to her husband. “We all are, honey,” he said.

Outside, there are portions of the AIDS quilt, which will also be on view in part at the Kennedy Center and will form a key part of the annual Smithsonian Folklife Festival this year. Outside, they hand you a missive from Kramer, which gives an update on the fight against AIDs.

People forget. We’re lucky that Kramer hasn’t.

“The Normal Heart” will run at Arena’ Stage’s Kreeger Theatre through July 29.
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Gary Tischler •

Comings And Goings

All the world’s a stage. And when it comes to Washington’s world of performance, as everywhere else, change is a constant

FOR THE NEXT ACT

Ryan Rilette has been named the new producing artistic director at Round House Theatre in Bethesda, assuming full-time duties Aug. 1.

Rilette will be following Blake Robinson, who has been producing artistic director here for the past seven, often innovative and acclaimed, years. He moves on to become artistic director at the Cincinnati Playhouse in the Park.

Rilette comes to Round House from the Marin Theatre Company, a very successful mid-sized company in Marin County in the San Francisco Bay Area, where he most recently directed the world premiere of “Bellwether” by Steven Yockey and “Gods of Carnage” by Yasmina Reza.

Sally Patterson, president of Round House Theatre’s board of trustees, said: “We are proud to be in Montgomery County, to provide innovative and challenging theatre, and to continue our commitment to artistic engagement for all ages. Ryan embodies our greatest hopes for all our aspirations.”

“It’s a great honor to follow in the footsteps of Blake Robison and Jerry Whiddon,” Rilette said. “I’ve long been a fan of both Round House and the D.C. theater community.”

CURTAINS OPEN AT OLNEY

Martin Platt, currently the co-director of the Perry Street Theatricals, a New York-based producing company, has been named the new artistic director at the Olney Theatre Center.

“There are great challenges and even greater opportunities in what we can accomplish in expanding and enriching Olney Theatre Center’s program and making Olney Theatre Center a true performing arts Center in Montgomery County with a great producing theatre company at its core,” Platt said.

Platt has headed such performing arts companies as the Birmingham Opera Theatre and the New Mexico Repertory Theatre. He has worked in London, founded the Santa Fe Stages festival and directed plays at the Cincinnati Playhouse like Sophie Bingham’s “Treason” (about Ezra Pound), “True West” and D.H. Lawrence’s “The Daughter In Law.”

BOWING OUT

Christina Scheppelmann, the long-time director of artistic operations at the Washington National Opera (WNO) will step down, effective Nov. 30.

Scheppelmann has been a WNO leader since 2002, overseeing the management of the acclaimed Domingo-Cafraitz Young Artist Program, helping to create the American Opera Initiative for young American composers and librettists, helping to produce new works, while overseeing new broadcast and simulcast initiatives and helping to select the WNO repertory of works each season.

“Christina has served Washington National Opera well in her decade here,” said Kennedy Center President Michael Kaiser. “Her hard work and diligence were key to making WNO”s recent affiliation with the Kennedy Center a success.”

JOINING HANDS

Adventure Theatre and Musical Theater Center are joining up, co-mingling and becoming one.

The combination will be called Adventure Theatre MTC, “uniting award winning theater productions with high-quality musical theater training. The combined entity will be able to serve more of the DC region and its young people,” according to the new group.

“It is the right step in the exciting evolution of these two entities, Adventure Theatre’s Michael Bobbitt said.

The announcement came in March on the 60th anniversary of Adventure Theatre.

Lots of Good Theater

In years past, summertime was a quiet time for the performance arts in the Washington, usually shifting to outdoor concerts and venues. Theaters tended to shutter their doors.

That’s not the case anymore. For one thing, the time between the old season and the new one coming up has narrowed dramatically. For another — well, for some perverse reason or another — there are lots of show on the boards, lots to see and do.

Here are some interesting choices going on right now. The list is by no means complete.

TWO FOR THREE AT THE KENNEDY CENTER

You can’t get two more diverse and entertaining offerings (make that three, if you count “The Music Man” at Arena Stage) than “First You Dream” and “Memphis” now at the Kennedy Center. “First You Dream” is a showcase project, originated at Signature Theatre by Eric Schaeffer, rifling with great verve and imagination through the songs and music of John Kander and Fred Ebb and with six great singers strutting and vocalizing, dramatizing and — above all — breaking hearts with songs from “Cabaret,” “Chicago,” “Kiss of the Spider Woman,” “Zorba,” and “The Happy Time.” One of the best, but not only, reason, to go is to see and hear the gifted Heidi Blickenstaff once again. (Through July 1 at the Eisenhower). “Memphis,” which won a pack of Tonys (best musical), is a totally different breed of animal, a junk yard dog of a musical about race, the South circa the 1950s, the birth of rhytmn and blues and a melo-plot, featuring a white Memphis hipster hung up on race music and a beautiful black singer. In a heated way, it’s a very engrossing and entertaining show (at the Opera House, also thorugh July 1), and the music is terrific and you can dance to it in your dreams.

Just so you know: “The Addams Family” (the musical) is landing at the Opera House beginning July 10 and running through July 29, click, click. Gomez, Morticia, Wednesday Addams, Uncle Fester, Lurch and the rest are all here.

CLASSICAL LAUGHS AND A NEW DIFFERENCE

Laughs in the classical vein are still available at the Shakespeare Theatre Company. There’s the return of Falstaff in “The Merry Wives of Windsor,” directed by Brit Stephen Raye, a very late Shakespeare play which features scheming wives and the return of Falstaff through July 18 at Harman Hall. Queen Elizabeth loved Falstaff. Extended at the Lansburgh is the latest (well, circa the 16th Century) rage in laughs, commedia dell’ arte style. Through July 8.

The Studio Theatre, under Joy Zinoman and now under David Muse, could and can always be counted on for the new, the odd, the unusual and the original. Two examples are now being staged there, beginning with the caustic “fem” comedy, “Bachelorettes,” directed by Muse himself and extended through July 8 at the Mead Theatre. In the nothing-like-it category is the hauntingly titled “The Animals and Children Took to the Streets” in collaboration with the group 1927, the Spoleto Theatre Festival and the Studio Theatre. It’s a beyond-category piece, described as part Tim Burton, part Dickens, “a graphic novel burst into life.”

IF YOU GIVE …

Speaking of Adventure Theatre, there’s the popular “If You Give …” series: now with “If You Give a Moose a Muffin,” a sequel and, if you can believe, “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.” Directed by Jeremy Skidmore with Michael Russotto, now through Sept. 2 at Glen Echo.

THREE DAUNTING WORDS

For the ultimate theater nut in you, heed these words: Capital Fringe Festival, July 12 to July 29.?