“Metamorphoses”: Splashing Humor, Drama, Love Into Our Oldest Tales at Arena

August 15, 2013

All things considered, it’s tempting to say that director-author-adapter — and, oh, just genial genius — Mary Zimmerman has the Midas Touch when it comes to bringing to the stage our dreams, our oldest stories, our gods, our myths, oldest jokes and sorrows.

Of course, after seeing “Metamorphoses,” Zimmerman’s astonishing and remarkably durable version of the 2,000-year-old “Metamorphoses” by the Roman poet Ovid (based on David Slavitt’s translation) at Arena Stage, set in a raging, slithering, slappy-sloppy giant water- and emotion-filled pool, you might not ever use that phrase again.

The tale of King Midas — and the tragic reality of having his wish fulfilled by a god — is one of the many myths and tales which spring to life in Zimmerman’s production. You could say it’s yet another of her collaborations with the authors—sometimes nameless, sometimes not—of our most essential beliefs, myths, legends and stories. Certainly, “Metamorphoses” is characteristic of her own touch and tools of the trade, she brings us to stories by which in the telling we are awed, shocked, moved, sometimes to tears, reconciled, filled here and there with laughter, both refined and coarse. She does it often with children’s toys, remnants of costumes, cloth, context and storytelling so old that it seems brand new, language that is at once just a step away from chants and intonation, and as vernacular as a an unfettered blogger.

We have seen Zimmerman in action before in Washington: “Argonautika,” “Candide” and at Arena the year before around this time with “Arabian Nights,” so full of magic, jokes and the sadness of a lost civilization.

We know the stories here, and almost immediately accept the setting, this giant pool of volatile, versatile, sweet birthing water, nearly a character in a play where characters splash with abandon. They roust and roil and disappear under the waves, come to grief and forbidden love, and are transformed, metamorphosed into forever. The pool, quite near front row audience members at the in-the-round Fichandler, is rarely still or peaceful. The result is that those audience members are offered towels but still are startled by splashing water — much like the action in this theater and play: you never know exactly what will happen next, where, when or how.

This is a play, first produced at Northwestern University, in which Zimmerman has invited here and there the Greco-Roman gods to mingle—why else is Zeus (aka Jupiter) referenced? Then again, you could say this is part of the theme here after all, which is one of transformation. That theme makes the play about life its own self: we recognize these sons and daughters of gods, but also merchants, fools, drunks, lovers, parents, louts and swains and sailors and actors as ourselves.

So, when in the thick of things, we meet Phaeton, he’s complaining to his shrink about his father, the sun god Apollo. Feeling guilty that his son has been bullied at school, Apollo asks him, “What do you want?” Phaeton smartly answers, “I want the keys to the car,” like any overconfident kid. But the car is the sun, of course, and Phaeton definitely isn’t ready to drive, burns the earth and falls to his death.

This is done with humor, as are the multiple disguises Vertumnus adopts to get the attention of the wood nymph Pomona, whom he loves but who ignores all his guises. It’s one of Zimmerman’s trademarks to get you to laugh at some basic level—there’s the “what’s-in-the-bag” playfulness and the wedding joke in “Arabian Nights.” But in the end, first and foremost, this production is about loss and transformation, about grief and how we manage to endure life and the burdens given to us by the gods.

All manner of stories will stick with you—I suspect it depends on state of mind and station. For me, the transformative tales haunt you into stillness. Thus, the powerful tale of King Ceyx, who is drowned on an ocean voyage his much beloved wife Alcyone begged him not to take. After ghostly visitations and an abundant display of grief and sorrow, the gods take pity and transform the couple into seabirds. (Alcyone’s father, the wind god Aeolus, calms the air and seashore so that she might nest with ease; hence our word, “halcyon.”) The familiar tale of Orpheus and Eurydice—told twice to include the German poet’s Rainer Maria Rilke’s version, who doubles down on the sadness—makes your hold your breath as Orpheus fails to retrieve his bride from the underworld by breaking the rule not to look back.

The most wrenching and shocking tale is that of Myrrha and her father, King Cinyras. Myrrha, a bounding teen uninterested in love and suitors, angers the goddess Aphrodite and is cursed to lust after her father. That lust and its consummation are depicted in a furious interaction in the pool, it’s looks physically dangerous and emotionally disastrous.

The production ends in a kind of vision, a hopeful dream of sheer beauty, light upon the water, a vision that opens up hearts to hope and makes souls transparent. We see them all then, a cast that is singularly and uniformly excellent, overcoming physical challenges—the water, the water, the air itself, the slippery path—to keep it real. I would single out Ashley Lathrop as Myrrha (and Midas’s daughter) who breaks your heart twice, Geoff Packart (he had the lead in “Candide” and “Liberty Jones”), an appealing and romantic heroic figure as King Ceyx, and Louise Lamson as Alcyone and Raymond Fox as Midas.

Because we have always told stories around campfires, in our hearths and homes, in liturgies and celebrations, between the covers of books and sacred texts, in ancient arenas, theater in its present and past forms has always seemed to be the place where we come to believe that what we see before us is both an artifice—artful and powerful—and a mirror through which we can fly, or in the case of this “Metamorphoses,” swim.

“Metamorphoses” runs at Arena Stage through March 17
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Helen Hayes Nominations: Some Surprising Omissions


Just when you think you might have a handle on the annual Helen Hayes Awards and the plays, artists and companies which get nominations every year, they throw you for an Oscar-like loop—you know, the one where Ben Affleck wasn’t nominated for a best director award for “Argo.”

This year’s major mysteries for the 29th annual Helen Hayes Awards announced earlier this week would appear to be the omission of veteran and oft-awarded and nominated actor Edward Gero for his bravura performance as the expressionist painter Mark Rothko in the Arena Stage production of “Red,” which was also not on the list of nominations for outstanding resident production, although director Robert Fall did get a nod for the production.

Stranger still was the fact that Synetic Theatre—the Georgian-led (as in the Republic of Georgia) troupe which specializes in highly stylized and totally original plays without dialogue and silent Shakespeare, which annually gets a slew of nominations and usually wins quite a few of them,—did not get a single nomination, an unlikely and odd turn of events strange enough to be called mysterious. It’s not likely that the company experienced a huge dropoff in quality in term of artistic excellence all at once, but there you are.

But, on the other hand, you can’t really complain about results per se—what the nominations almost always reveal is the excellence, the range and the sheer variety and size of the Washington theatre community. It’s a big tent approach. This year, Toby’s Dinner Theatre in Columbia, Md., with its production of “The Color Purple” got eight nominations in a category usually dominated by Signature Theater, which was right up there, too, with seven for its production of “Dreamgirls.”

Then there was Imagination Stages, a theatre specializing in plays for young people, which landed two best directors for musicals (as opposed to musical direction) for Janet Stanford and “The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe” (also up for a best ensemble award) and Kathryn Chase Bryer for “Rapunzel.”

Arena Stage itself led with a total of 18 nominations if you’re counting—with a variety of nominations for several plays, including “My Fair Lady,” “The Music Man,” “Pullman Porter Blues,” “Red Hot Patriot” and “One Night With Janis Joplin” among seven productions. Kathleen Turner—star turn—was nominated for best actress in a resident play, and Mary Bridet Davies—star turn—was nominated for outstanding actress in a musical for playing—let’s say channeling—Janis Joplin.

Direction seems to have been a stickler—six were nominated for outstanding director of a resident musical, including Toby Orenstein (founder of Toby’s) and Lawrence Munsey, and eight were nominated for best director of a resident play—Shakespeare Theatre Company’s artistic director Michael Kahn for “The Government Inspector,” and Ethan McSweeny for “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” and Christopher Bayes for “The Servant of Two Masters,” all Shakespeare Theatre Company productions among them, along with Aaron Posner, Robert Falls, Kirsten Kelly and John Vreeke.

Here’s your lineup for top resident musicals: “1776,” a top notch, clear-eyed production from Ford’s Theatre; “The Color Purple” from Toby’s Dinner Theatre; “Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris” from MetroStage; “Dreamgirls” from Signature and “Spring Awakening” from Keegan Theatre.

And here’s your lineup for top resident play: “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Shakespeare Theatre Company; Woolly Mammoth’s scintillatingly staged wrestling drama “The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity”; “Invisible Man,” Studio Theatre’s nervy and moving adaptation of Ralph Ellison’s novel; Theater J’s powerful “Our Class” and Folger Theatre’s Wild West set production of “The Taming of the Shrew.”

For a complete listing of the awards, visit theatrewashington.org. The Helen Hayes awards will be presented April 8 at the Warner Theatre.

The Universal ‘Our Town’


On Feb. 4, Ford’s Theatre, the city’s singular historical theater, will hold a 75th Anniversary celebration for Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town,” a play often performed, and often misunderstood, sometimes scorned, but always enduringly loved and unforgettable.

It has always seemed like a peculiarly American play, posited in a vaguely uncertain but specific place, that may, but does not usually, carry a New England accent somewhere in the early years of the 20th century and yet every word in it, every sentence said by every character strives, without seeming to try, for the universal.

Wilder, an ambitious, unique American novelist and playwright always thinks big but within readily identifiable framework: from the Rome of Julius Caesar in “The Ides of March,” to 18th-century Latin America in “The Bridge of San Luis Rey” to the wildly disarrayed, time-spanning family network and dynamics that exist in “The Skin of Our Teeth.”

Yet, it has been “Our Town” that has, in terms of interest, readership vor revivals, outlasted all of his work and his own life by many years. Some critics have delved into it and tasted common (and perhaps uncommon) sentimentality and dismissed it, while directors treat it like a Shakespearean work, expanding the character base in terms of types and ethnic groups, fleshing out Wilder’s specific and specified stage landscape.

It is probably safe to say that somewhere in the United States and in the world, there is a production of “Our Town” being staged, often in the gymnasiums and auditoriums of small towns in America. Perhaps that’s what irritates critics—it’s a play that feels simple on the surface but is hardly simplistic. It charms you, even as it’s telling you hard, difficult truths about life and death and the whole damned thing, and if high school kids can do it and do it well, it cannot possibly be good.

Upon its first debut that the McCarter Theater in Princeton, N.J. on Jan. 22, 1938, followed by another debut at the Wilbur Theatre in Boston on Jan. 25 and then, officially on Feb. 4 at the Henry Miller Theatre in New York, “Our Town” was something of a revolutionary undertaking. Directed and produced by Jed Harris, the play ended up winning a Pulitzer Prize for Wilder, and anchoring itself in the imaginations of theatergoers everywhere.

With its bare-bones set—lots of places and things are talked about, but only seen by the characters—and its somewhat revolutionary role of the Stage Manager who is the audience’s guide to Grover’s Corners and “Our Town” traces the comings and goings of the residents of a very small town and specifically the fortunes of two particular families—the family of the town doctor, Frank Gibbs and the family of the editor of the Grover’s Corners Sentinel, Charles Webb.

The story’s protagonists are the young couple of George Gibbs and Emily Webb, whom we see in high school, whom we hear dream about their lives, whom we see fall in love, marry and suffer tragedy. All of it is about life and birth and death and love, and it affects audiences in mysterious and truthful ways.

If you have any doubts that in “Our Town,” Wilder is thinking big, just know how one of the characters writes a return address for a piece of mail, a letter: “Grover’s Corners, New Hampshire, United States of America, Continent of North America, Western Hemisphere, the Earth, the Solar System, the Universe, the Mind of God.”

The Stage Manager, who takes on many characters in the play, never blinks in staring at and talking about his characters—it’s clear there is love there, but there is a diamond-hard, clear eye that knows that people often and maybe most of the time, don’t understand the life they’re living or appreciate it, or refuse to accept it. Paraphrasing another now forgotten writer, people sometimes wake up amazed at being in a life at all, but life’s rush of events, of daily duty and doings, erase that amazement, by plying it, not ever in equal doses, with joy and sadness. All of that sort of echo is in “Our Town”—it can take place in any mind’s memory and seem not alien at all.

“Our Town’s” life is extended often—by revivals like the one at Ford’s and ground-breaking efforts in New York and the Village, and there have been many stage managers (including Geraldine Fitzgerald, breaking the gender wall), as well as Spalding Gray and may Gibbs and Webb families and Emily’s and George’s, and trips to the graveyards by high school students playing the young lovers. I wouldn’t be surprised, were it not for the nightly awesome fear, that I dreamt of being the stage manager too.
William Holden, just on the verge of becoming someone special in the movies, played George to young Martha Scott’s Emily. There was a musical version on Producer’s Showcase, one of those network live plays with big stars, which featured Frank Sinatra as the stage manager, singing about “Love and Marriage,” and Paul Newman and the ethereally beautiful Eva Marie Saint play George and Emily. Years later, Newman became the Stage Manager in a television film version, still alive but not much longer.

Arena Stage took “Our Town” (and “Inherit the Wind”) to the Soviet Union, then, years later, restaged it with the perfect Stage Manager, Robert Prosky, who was the kind of actor who could command the stage with wisdom and comforting pity for all of mankind.

You see in “Our Town” newspaper boys, soldiers-to-be, daughters becoming mothers, a town that still had what it called the other side of the tracks, baseball players, an undertaker, the rumored drunk, the milkman, the choir director, the farmer.
The play is specific because of its title—but you could change that: our block, our neighborhood, our wherever we live in a group and as families, where there might as always be nightclubs and churches, clinics and homes.

In many ways, “Our Town” is a play in keeping with Ford’s tradition and image, which is still evolving, as it is the play itself. This production is directed by Stephen Rayne, who has put sharp Americana edges on “The Heavens Hung in Black,” “Sabrina Fair” and the dark musical “Parade.”

“ ‘Our Town’ is a play which transcends differences in culture, class and race, and speaks to the great themes common to all great art: love, death and marriage,” Rayne said. “From its first production in 1938, the play struck a powerful chord with the American psyche, and it is as fresh and relevant today as it was then. I am hoping to bring a fresh perspective to this great classic and present a production that Ford’s and Mr. Wilder will be proud of.”

“Our Town” will be performed at Ford’s Theatre Jan. 25 through Feb. 24.

‘Million Dollar Quartet’: Present at the Creation of Rock-n-Roll


Goodness gracious, I don’t know how much nostalgia an old body can handle.

These past few months have seen Janis Joplin re-emerged in the person of Mary Bridget Davies at Arena Stage like a furious, fiery storm of blues right out of 1960s San Francisco. I’ve seen and talked with old icon, Rambling Jack Elliott, singing under the shade of a cowboy hat as part of a star-studded tribute and centenary celebration of folk hero and working-man minstrel Woody Guthrie at the Kennedy Center.

And now, this: Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash and Jerry Lewis on stage together live, at least in the very live facsimile persons of Cody Slaughter, Robert Britton Lyons, David Elkins and Martin Kaye, respectively, in the touring production of “Million Dollar Quartet,” a musical play by Colin Scott and Floyd Mutrox now at the Kennedy Center’s Eisenhower Theater through Jan. 6.

The show is based on a historical fact—that on Dec. 4, 1956, Presley, Perkins, Cash and Lewis ended up hanging out at Sam Phillips Sun Records Studio in Memphis and did a number of impromptu songs together and separately which were taped and recorded and became known as the Million Dollar Quartet. It was the only time the four were ever together in each other’s presence at the same time, all of them having been discovered by Phillips before they became rockabilly and rock-n-roll juggernauts whose fame lasted unto death and beyond for Presley, Perkins and Cash, while Lewis, a slower and somewhat chastened version of his “Killer” self is still recording and performing.

What you get in “Million Dollar Quartet” is essentially a live concert, mixed in with less convincing and more contrived dramatic elements. There is the return of Elvis for a visit after he has already gained mega-fame and celebrity. We see Cash wanting to jump to a major record company even as Phillips is planning to extend his contract. Perkins shows smoldering resentment of Elvis and frustration with his own floundering career, while Phillips weighed an offer to join RCA, where Elvis is king. And there is an Elvis girlfriend who seems cooler, smarter and more savvy that the wailing girls usually surrounding the king of rock-n-roll in those days.

If your pop heart was baked in the songs of these four men all of your life, then this musical play is like being at a high school reunion where everybody is still alive and young and where are heard the songs, “Hound Dog,” “Ghost Riders of the Sky,” “Matchbox,” “Great Balls of Fire,” “Peace in the Valley” and “Blue Suede Shoes.” You just gotta get up and dance even if you’ve got two left feet.

Everybody in this audience did get up, as some of them managed to do it very slowly. They clapped, and some shook their fragile booties, while others just slapped their program on their knees.

What’s remarkable about this show is just how good the young musicians are—they’re more musicians than actors at this stage. This realization leads you to see just how great that million dollar quartet really was, and why the music is laid so deeply in our veins—just as you recognize, beneath all the trivial contrivances in the show, what a great songwriter Irving Berlin was seeing “White Christmas” next door at the Opera House.

All of these guys—the real ones—ended up in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and all of them influenced a host of musicians and singers and legends that came later. From Eric Clapton to Bob Dylan and beyond, all of them shone the light on the source of their particular appeal, where they heard the music and who played it—Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Fats Domino and Jimmy Reed. They came from the sharecropper fields of Mississippi and Alabama, from New Orleans and the segregated south where all of them grew up poor. All of them heard the blues, rhythm and blues, gospel and country, and drunk with that music they invented something new. Phillips’s genius was to recognize their music as something new and overwhelming. After that, pop music was never the same.

What Lyons, Elkins, Slaughter and Kaye do isn’t exactly acting. It’s inter-acting with each other. It’s performing the music and hitting it out of the park. It’s a presence that’s convincing for the real-life characters they’re inhabiting.

Watch Kaye when he sits down at the piano as a young, completely irreverent and raw Jerry Lee Lewis—the kid doesn’t have a bone or inhibition in his body. He crawls over the piano and thumps and runs with it. It’s like a wrestling match where everybody wins and out comes “Real Wild Child,” making the Phillips character stand up and take notice. Watch Elkins as Cash, the epitome of the man in black cool. He’s kind of languorous and dangerous. He sings “I Walk the Line” and “Folsom Prison Blues” (with that cold line “I shot a man just to watch him die”), as if they were as fresh as a cold beer on a hot day.

Then, there’s Slaughter, who’s got the job of catching Elvis as a meteor rising, flush with success and a longing for simpler times. He tells Phillips of how the colonel got him to do a gig in Vegas where the older audiences booed him. “One thing I can tell you,” he says, “you’ll never catch me playing Vegas again.” He’s got a chunk of the Elvis sound and all of his moves. And there’s Kelly Lamont, as the girlfriend, coming home to meet his momma, who’s as slinky as the recently invented slinky in a pink-purple 1950s dress where women seemed to move around inside the dress, in case you weren’t paying attention. She sings the Peggy Lee standard “Fever” as if she has one.

Most interesting of all in this show where the glory tends to be shared and nurtured except when Jerry Lee Lewis is in the area is Robert Britton Lyon as Perkins, who looks like a walking, dark-haired short fuse, but who plays an electric guitar like he came out with it on day one. He is the master musician, if not the great singer among the four. Still burned up over Elvis gaining fame with “Blue Suede Shoes,” a song that Perkins rode to number one status until a car wreck sidetracked his career, Perkins lets the anger get into his playing which makes it zing with danger.

It doesn’t take long to talk yourself into feeling, if not knowing, that you’re present at the creation. Your feet twitch, your elbows get restless, you shake your head. It’s 1956 when you were . . . well, no you’re not.

But, still, it feels like a million bucks up there and out there, too.

A Grand Duchy Christmas and Amb. Jean-Louis Wolzfeld


Jean-Louis Wolzfeld, the new Ambassador of the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg to the United States, was still getting acclimated.

Over coffee and cookies, which had an appropriately holiday feel to it, in a small room dominated by portraits of the imposing and courageous Grand Duchess Charlotte, an inspirational figure in exile during the World War II Nazi occupation and annexation of her state, we talked with Wolzfeld about Luxembourg’s cherished Christmas traditions, about Luxembourg’s role in the European Union, about U.S.-Luxembourg relations (very good), and other matters historic and cultural.

Wolzfeld became ambassador a month ago, just in time to preside over what has become practically a tradition, the annual Christmas event, musicale, concert followed by champagne and dinner presented by the Embassy Series at the Embassy of Luxembourg at 2200 Massachusetts Avenue, held Dec. 6, 7 and 8.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Wolzfeld said. “I’ve heard a lot about it already from many people including my predecessor Jean-Paul Senninger.”

“It started in 2010,” said Jerome Barry, director and founder of the Embassy Series. “When Ambassador Senninger and I were standing at the buffet table at an event at the Embassy of Turkey. He suggested we have some series events at his embassy, and we thought of it in terms of Christmas. That first year involved ‘Call Me Madam’ and was a kind of festive, three-concert holiday event centered around ‘Call Me Madam,’ Irving Berlin and his music—he wrote ‘White Christmas’ after all. Berlin’s daughter was there. We did it again last year, again with music, carolers, and a theme of Luxembourg Christmas traditions—the embassy had gifts laid outside at the door per Luxembourg custom. It’s become something really special.”

This year’s event—“Luxembourg at Holiday Time—A Celebration of Mostly Baroque Music” will include a the German School’s children’s choir singing carols of the season and performances by baroque trumpeter Marc Weydert, pianist Maurice Clement, pianist George Peachey — and on Saturday, the Thomas Circle Singers.

Barry himself will add his baritone voice to the proceedings. The evening will also include champagne, wine, hors-d’ouvres and a buffet dinner.

“Thursday is a special day when it comes to Christmas in Luxembourg,” Ambassador Wolzfeld told us. “We don’t have a Santa Claus per se, but we have St. Nicholas Day, which is celebrated December 6. The custom is that children put out their slippers in front of their doors with the hope that St. Nicholas will bring a gift.”

It’s also customary to leave out plates in the kitchen or dining room area which are filled by St. Nicholas with sweets and cookies. On Christmas Eve, Luxembourgers attend midnight mass and gather for suppers the dishes of which include black pudding and mashed potatoes and apple sauce. “I remember this from childhood very well,” said Wolzfeld, who is a 61-year-old bachelor and career diplomat. “We, too, had a good and a dark Santa, who was very strict and made sure that children receiving gifts had actually been good. It was a different time, of course, slower and more traditional. The state, the duchy and Europe has changed.”

Luxembourg is a small nation wedged among its neighbors of Germany, France and Belgium, and the cultural evidence is everywhere. “Some of the Christmas traditions come from Germany, some from France,” Wolzfeld said. “Our population is part German, French, Luxembourgers, and now, increasingly, we are getting many immigrants from Portugal.”

Wolfzeld speaks French, English, German, Italian and Luxembourgish, which he says “is more like a dialect.” But he and his capacity for languages and his record as a diplomat, speak to a state that appears very much in the European tradition, but is also, although primarily Catholic, ecumenical in its culture, welcoming in its diversity and pragmatic in its outlook toward the rest of the world. “Our economy is very good right now,” he said. “So, our immigration policy is very welcoming. Our people and our traditions come from many different cultures and traditions, and that in and of itself is a quality we can take a lot of pride in. We look outward, not just inward, and, of course, that is also what the European Union is all about, also.”

That attitude was strained during World War II when Nazi Germany sent its forces through the Ardennes and invaded France and its neighbors, resulting in the annexation of the Duchy of Luxembourg. “I think it took a long time to get over that in terms of our relations with Germany, no question,” Wolzfeld said. “One of the reasons we have such a good relationship with the United States—and we do—is that people have not forgotten that it was the United States Army which liberated us. Patton’s forces came here, and there are 7,000 graves of American soldiers here, including General Patton himself, who requested to be buried with his troops.”

“I have been a diplomat all my life,” Wolzfeld said. “It has allowed me to see the world with a practical eye, to see our similarities not just our differences.” He a permanent representative to the United Nations in the mid-1990s, as well as an ambassador to the Court of St. James and to Japan. For Wolzfeld, Japan was “a most interesting appointment. Japan was in a boom at the time, but it was a view of a very different culture and very rewarding.”

Wolzfeld remembers Washington from his time at the United Nations. “I think it was still changing at the time as a city, and there was much more crime as I recall. But it is so different now, much more cosmopolitan, if you will. There’s so many cultural opportunities now, and the cityscape has changed also. There’s an energy here.”

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‘Tis the Season for Holiday Arts Previews


Every year the holiday season seems to stretch a little further and longer. In these pages, we will celebrate the season with celebrations of performance over the holidays.

Usually, that means trumpets, nutcrackers, Scrooges, elves, Santa Claus, and Christmas or seasonal music, concerts that celebrate the holidays, and concerts that occur during the holidays, plays that are about the holidays and plays that are not, but seem to indicate a celebrate a celebratory or musical spirit.

We give not all, but some, of the traditional, best and most eclectic choices folks can have on Washington stages and venues. Dancing and singing and the playing of music will be involved, and familiar characters—and some not—will be heard from and familiar music will be played, as well as some music less familiar but by familiar stars in the music world.

So here we go:

Pick a Nutcracker, Any Nutcracker
There are numerous performances of “The Nutcracker” to be seen in the Washington area over the holidays: at the Puppet Theatre, in Glen Echo, for instance, or at the Kennedy Center, or the Moscow Balles’s Great Russian Nutcracker version at the Music Center at Strathmore or George Mason University, or Nutcracker in a Shell at Broad Run High School, or at the Thomas Jefferson Community Theatre in Arlington, or the Ernest Community Cultural Center Theater in Annandale, the Franklin Park Performing Arts Center in Purcelville, Battlefield High School in Haymarket, George Mason High School in Falls Church, the Maryland Youth Ballet in Rockville, and at the Northern Virginia Community College and many, many more, but . . .

There will always be the Washington Ballet’s now an annual D.C. holiday presen- tation with George Washington, as the hero and George III as the Rat King. Every year, Tchaikovsky’s music seems to fit perfectly with the Revolutionary War. The ballet, beautiful and intact, is at the historic Warner Theatre Nov. 30 through Dec. 23 and at THEARC Theatre Nov. 24 to 28. Maki Onuki, a Washington Ballet star and favorite stars as the sugar plum fairy.

‘Hansel and Gretel’ for the Washington Opera
Engelbert Humperdinck’s classic chil- dren’s opera “Hansel and Gretel” begins a new tradition for the very busy Washington Opera Company Dec. 21 to 23 in the Kennedy Center’s Terrace Theater. The family opera stars current stars and alumni of the Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist Program and is directed by David Grately, with the WNO Orchestra conducted by Michael Rossi. Sarah Mesko and Julia Mintzer star as Hansel and Emily Albrink and Shantelle Przybylo star as Gretel.

More Holiday Alleluias At the Kennedy Center
One of many Messiah’s being performed over the holidays will be the National Symphony’s in the Concert Hall Dec. 20 to 23 with guest con- ductor Rolf Beck conducting soprano Katherine Whyte, countertenor Anthony Roth Costanzo, tenor Sunnyboy Vincent Dladla, and bass-baritone Panajotis Iconomou. There will also be a Messiah Sing-Along in the Concert Hall Dec. 23.

Ballet West will bring its version of “The Nutcracker” Dec. 5-9 at the Opera House.

The traditional “Merry Tuba Christmas!” will be at the Millennium Stage Dec. 13, while the NSO Pops will perform its “Happy Holiday” concert in the Concert Hall Dec. 13 to 16.

In a Millennium Stage (Free) Christmas tradition, there’s the All-Star Christmas Day Jazz Jam Dec. 25.

But that’s not all:

The NSO Pops Orchestra will feature Megan Hilty, Broadway star and star of the hit show “Smash” on television in “Luck Be A Lady: Megan Hilty Sings Sinatra and More” Nov. 23 and 24, while Linda Lavin is in the “Barbara Cook’s Spotlight” series Nov. 16.

There’s also lots of music in theater at the Kennedy Center:

“Jekyll & Hyde,” a musical, will hit the Opera House Nov. 20 through 25, starring Constantine Maroulis and Deborah Cox.

The much anticipated “Million Dollar Quartet,” the Tony Award-winning musical features characters called Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins and Jerry Lew Lewis in the Eisenhower Theatre, Dec. 18 through Jan. 6

But the most essential Christmas show of all is “Irving Berlin’s White Christmas” based on the classic holiday movie that featured the likes of Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye, Dec. 11 through Jan. 6 in the Opera House

Music Center at Strathmore
Mark O’Connor: An Appalachian Christmas, Dec. 13 American folk, classic Christmas.

Cathedral Choral Society: A Dickens Christmas—a staging of Scrooge with chorus, brass and madrigal ensemble, Dec. 17.

The Washington Chorus: A Candlelight Christmas, Dec. 21

The Brian Setzer Orchestra: Christmas Rocks Extravaganza. Rocking around the Xmas tree, Dec. 4.

Dave Koz and Friends: Christmas Tour, Dec. 3, with David Benoit, Javier Colon, Sheila E and others.

National Philharmonic: Handel’s “Messiah,” Dec. 8.

Holiday Music by the Stocking-full
Family Christmas Concert Series— The Georgetown Concert Series presents the American Boychoir in a family Christmas concert at St. John’s Episcopal Church Dec. 2 at 5 p.m. American Boychoir is considered America’s premier concert boys’ choir.

Tudor Nights—The annual holiday celebration will be held at historic Tudor Place, Dec. 6, between 6 and 8 p.m. Spiced ginger cocktail on hand.

A Celtic Christmas—The Barnes and Hampton Celtic Concert will be featured in the Dumbarton Concert Sesaon Concerts by Candlelight Series, Dec. 1, 2, 8 and 9.

The Embassy Series—Luxembourg at Holiday—A highlight of the series, this annual holiday event at the Embassy of Luxembourg has been expanded to three evenings, Dec. 6, 7 and 8, and will feature the Thomas Circle Singers, Marc Weydert on Baroque trumpet, Maurice Clemont on piano, baritone Jerome Barry, and George Peachy on piano in a celebration of mostly baroque music. Deluxe buffet dinner, refreshments, champagne and elegance.

Washington National Cathedral—The WNC will have its Christmas Pageant on Dec. 22, Carols By Candlelight Dec. 23 and 24, the Festival of the Holy Eucharist Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, its annual Creche Exhibit, performances of Handel’s “Messiah” Dec. 7, 8 and 9, a “Joy of Christmas” concert Dec. 15.

The Christmas Revels—The 30th annual production and community celebration of the Winter Solstice will be performed at George Washington University’s Lisner Auditorium, Dec. 8, 9, 14, 15 and 16.

Children’s music superstars the Laurie Berner Band will perform a special holiday concert at Lisner Auditorium Nov. 18.

Gay Men’s Chorus—The Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington will presenst its “Winter Nights” holiday concert Nov. 30 and Dec. 1 with the Virginia Bronze handbell ensemble at Lisner Auditorium.

Washington Performing Arts Society— Yo-Yo Ma performs solo cello pieces by Bach, Turkish composer Ahmet Adnan Saygun, with bluegrass violinist Mark O’Connor and George Crumb at the Kennedy Center, Dec. 3, Concert Hall.

The Simon Bolivar Symphony Orchestra of Venezuela is at the Kennedy Center Concert Hall, Dec. 4, and will play Mexican compose Carlos Chavez’s “Sinfonia India” with conduc tor Gustavo Dudamel.

Theater
Shakespeare Theatre Company— It’s hard to think of a play not about Christmas more festive than
Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” This production of magic, mistaken lovers, groundlings and kings and queens and a donkey’s head, is directed by the ever-surprising Ethan McSweeny, Nov. 15 through Dec. 30, in the Sidney Harman Hall.

Arena Stage—Almost as festive is “My Fair Lady”, the Lerner and Lowe music based on Shaw’s “Pygmalion”, staged and imagined anew by Molly Smith, and starring Manna Nichols, Benedict Campbell and Nicholas Rodriguez. Through Jan. 6.

Signature Theater—The big Michael Bennett hit “Dreamgirls” gets the Signature Theatre Treatment through Jan. 6.

Les Miserables—Just in time for the movie version is the 25th new anniversary production of Cameron McIntosh musical version of Victor Hugo’s classic novel of revenge justice, revolution, and romance. At the National Theatre Dec. 12 to 30.

Cinderella at Olney—Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical “Cinderella” is being staged at the Olney Theatre through Dec. 30.

Round House Theatre—“Young Robin Hood”, a world premiere production by Jon Klein will run Nov. 28 through Dec. 30, a rousing, swashbuckling new adventure version of the old Hollywood-and-Nottingham legend

Adventure Theatre—“A Little House Christmas” Nov. 16 through Dec. 31, based on the popular Laura Ingalls Wilder Little House books, directed by Serge Seiden.

Imagination Stage—“Seussical,” the smash Broadway hit about Dr. Seuss and his many characters will be staged at the Lerner Family Theatre in Bethesda through Jan. 6.

Scrooges Galore
At Ford’s Theater, its production of “A Christmas Carol” is a popular tradition, and this year once again features D.C. acting great Ed Gero as Scrooge, with Michael Baron directing, Nov. 16 through Dec. 30.

Olney Theatre will do “A Christmas Carol” (A Ghost Story of Christmas) adapted and performed by Paul Morella, Nov. 30 through Dec. 30.

The Keegan Theatre on Church Street in Dupont Circle will feature “An Irish Carol” beginning Dec. 15. [gallery ids="101059,137045,137024,137039,137030,137036" nav="thumbs"]

Mezzo-Soprano Laurie Rubin: Hear Her Colors, Feel Her Voice


The Millennium Stage Series at the Kennedy Center since its inception has been a venue for the surprising, the new, the varied and diverse. On Monday, Oct. 22, 6 p.m., that will be especially true and special when Laurie Rubin takes the stage.

The young, heralded mezzo-soprano brings her astonishing voice and sharp, powerful insights to the event, sharing excerpts from her memoir “Do You Dream in Color? Insights from a Girl Without Sight” (Seven Stories Press, to be published Oct. 23), telling her story in effect, and singing excerpts from a recent album which is also entitled “Do You Dream In Color?” along with Broadway and opera favorites. She will be accompanied by pianist/clarinetist Jenny Taira.

The question is a fairly recent one, but it’s a critical one for Rubin. In a phone interview, we had asked, almost naturally, whether or how she dreams. “I can’t see anything, specific colors,” she answered. “But I can see shapes. I can see light, and, of course, I hear. Recently, I had a dream that I was talking with my mother, but my mother’s voice was not hers. Strange. But yes, I dream.”

YouTube is one of those places on the Internet where gifted people naturally are drawn in, showcased, illuminated and in Rubin’s case there’s a tape and interview that showcases her voice, her slender, attractive looks, the emotion and ranginess of her mezzo tones. Consider the first lines of the song, “Do You Dream in Color,” and hear a phrase so loaded with emotion, a phrase she seems to take apart letter by letter, consonant by consonant, vowel by vowel. The composition is by Bruce Adolphe, the poem, the words, the lyrics are by Rubin, sparked by a question from a child:

“Do you dream in color? She asks/watching me apply my makeup/her question gives me pause/as I fumble in my bag/for that perfect shade of purple.”

“I dream what I experience,” she tells the child in the poem. “I dream the smell of flowers, the taste of chocolate.”

The subconscious seeing or not is a powerful motivational tool. It’s always with you. “When I think of things be it chocolate which is a major weakness of mine or anything else, I think in musical terms, like chocolate as a musical note.”

Raised in California, Rubin was diagnosed as being blind very early. From the beginning, however, the state of being blind seemed more of a challenge as opposed to a wall you couldn’t get around for her. “I had a gift, a voice,” she said. “But early on, in spite of all the help from your parents, your teachers, the encouragement, you do feel isolated. I think that’s the key difficulty, not what you can or can’t do. I can ski. I design jewelry. I am a bona-fide shopaholic. I navigated the streets of New York with my guide dog Mark. I read. But the difference, when I was younger, always remained. You felt outside. In high school, friends were into or sang pop music. I loved classical music from the start. That sort of thing.”

She speaks at a great distance from Hawaii, where she lives now pretty much like she writes. There’s a musicality to her voice that is rich with range and energy. She lets you into her imagination. She’s direct and open, not like a book, but like a song that you react to. Her writing moves fast—she’s telling the stories of her life—at Oberlin, at Yale in music studies, where—even though she has operatic ambitions—she was in the end not cast for parts because others were afraid she could not find her way around a stage.

Blindness isn’t always obvious. It’s certainly not an impediment to singing and can be essentially enriching because other senses are emboldened, heightened. “That adds something to how I sing, certainly,” Rubin said. And that’s been noticed. The New York Times chief classical music critic Anthony Tommasini wrote that she has “compelling artistry” and “communicative power” with a voice that displays “earthy, rich and poignant qualities.” Rubin has been praised and supported in her concert work and stage work as well as recordings by the likes of opera legend Frederica von Stade and singer-song writer Kenny Loggins. The album marks the world debut of “Do You Dream in Color?” Rubin has recorded “Faith in Spring” with Graham Johnson and David Wilkinson on the Opera Omnia label, and she made her solo recital debuts at Wigmore Hall in London as well as at Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall.

There’s a more prosaic but no less moving encounter on YouTube in which Rubin sings “You Lift Me Up” at the Israel Guide Dog Center, bringing her long-time service dog Mark on stage on the day of his retirement. “He has been with me for a long time, my friend,” she said. Naturally, we talk about dogs, how a replacement standard poodle “freaked out” in the city, about a new pet, about the patient qualities and intelligence of Mark. On the phone, we’re talking about qualities of blindness, about colors, sound, music. Phones take away what you think you know, talking like this, and you find a way to see each other in the talking.

[gallery ids="101027,135836,135832,135828" nav="thumbs"]

‘A Chorus Line’ Continues Its History at the Olney

August 8, 2013

You don’t see “ A Chorus Line ” too often anymore, certainly not in many regional theaters.

“It’s not that people have forgotten it, or that it’s not a popular show,” said Christopher Youstra, associate artistic director and director of musical theater at Olney Theatre Center, where the ground-breaking, and record-breaking Broadway musical is getting a vivid staging. “It’s a very difficult thing for regional theaters to do properly, it’s a big cast, it’s physically demanding.”
“The show also places some special demands on casting,” said Youstra, who’s worked at Round House Theatre and Studio Theatre and is a fixture on the Washington area theater scene. “You’re looking for triple threats—acting, singing and dancing, and especially dancing, because that’s what the show is about.”

“It’s a mega show. It’s a musical about show business, specifically about all those people who went to auditions to flesh out chorus lines in musicals,” he said. “In that sense, it’s a little bit of a history piece—those kinds of splashy, big musicals with those kind of musical and dance numbers are not so much in evidence any more, and Broadway itself has changed.”

It’s true enough. You don’t get much talk about the dancing in mega-hits like “The Lion King,” “Spiderman” or “The Book of Mormon.” Revivals and new stagings of the likes of “Anything Goes” only serve as reminders of what Broadway musicals used to be.

The denizens of Broadway included exactly the kind of people who were essential to the legends and lore of Broadway musicals—remember the director’s admonition to the chorine who has to take the place of the star in “42nd Street”? “You’re going out there as a chorine, but you’re coming back a star,” he said.

That was the dream of every guy and girl auditioning for the chorus. It was the late director Michael Bennett—with the help of a process that included actual interviews of actors and gypsy chorus aspirants-who turned the material—with a book by James Kirkwood and Nicholas Dante, lyrics by Edward Kleban and music by Marvin Hamlich—into Broadway gold.

With Donna McKechnie in a star turn as Cassie, with glamorous production numbers and solos, and an often heartbreaking but always honest and gritty story line, “A Chorus Line” began with workshops and an Off-Broadway run before opening on Broadway on July 25, 1975. It was a huge success at a time when Broadway and Times Square were going through a decline. The production got 12 Tony Award nominations and won 9—and earned a Pulitzer Prize. When it was all over and said and sung, it had rung up 6,137 productions, sailing past the previous record holder, “Grease,” with ease. The run was finally surpassed by “Cats” in 1997, but it still remains the sixth longest-running Broadway show in history. “A Chorus Line” was revived in 2006 and just recently, another revival opened in the West End of London.

“The show revived Broadway, it brought people to Time Square, who, even if they couldn’t get tickets to it, went to another show,” Youstra said.

“A Chorus Line” is about show business, about dancers in particular, and in that sense, the world the characters in the show occupy has changed radically. McKechnie, a gifted dancer along the lines of Chita Rivera and Gwen Verdon, won a Tony award for her performance in “A Chorus Line,” but there were not too many shows calling for star dancers on the horizons, except for revivals. The age of great dancers and dance producers and directors was coming to a close at the time—there were few Gower Champions (who famously died of cancer just before the opening of “42nd Street”) or Bob Fosse of “Chicago” fame. Fosse, who had a sterling film career directing “Cabaret,” “Star 80” and “All That Jazz” equally famously died on his way to the opening of the revival of “Sweet Charity” at the National Theatre on Pennsylvania Avenue, accompanied by his ex-wife Gwen Verdon. “Sweet Charity” starred McKechnie.

In the end, “A Chorus Line” is an echo of Broadway past and theater now—“What I Did for Love” is a standard, but it’s also unique to the show, just as is the “One.”

Broadway musicals, and the people in them, have a life of their own, and the stories go on. Sometimes, they come back. McKechnie will add a flavor to the times, bringing her own cabaret show, “Same Place, Another Time,” to the Olney on Sept. 1.
And this production of “A Chorus Line” brings with it its own lore: Nancy Lemenager, originally cast as Cassie, had to leave the show due to injury. Michelle Aravena, who had been cast as Morales and a Cassie understudy, took over, with Jessica Vaccaro, who played Morales at Paper Mill Playhouse, stepping into the role at Olney. [gallery ids="101418,154925" nav="thumbs"]

Fringe Fest: Baum’s ‘Impossible to Translate’ Easily Entertains

July 29, 2013

One-woman performances bring up one question: can a single storyteller actually hold an audience’s attention for the entire show? You might be tempted to think not.

But, Israeli storyteller Noa Baum does just this, defying any skepticism.

In “Impossible to Translate, But I’ll Try,” her first show in the Capital Fringe Festival, Baum engagingly and humorously carries the audience through waves of memories. She narrates everything from growing up as a young Jewish girl in Jerusalem to living as an Israeli adult in America. Through five distinct stories, Baum invites us to meet her beloved “bubbe” (“grandmother” in Yiddish), learn about her namesake, the original Jewish feminist, watch her fall in love – twice – and reflect on the meaning of motherhood. As a Jewish viewer, I related to her stories, appreciating the rawness of her experiences.

Imagining Baum’s Israeli childhood through her verbal vignettes, the audience hears a unique, loving perspective on a country most often associated with violence and vengeance. We learn about neighborhood hideaways she enjoyed with friends in Jerusalem and the dating scene. Her honest, warm tone conveys youthful frivolity and happiness and humanizes Israel in a refreshing, engrossing way.

Baum, an experienced storyteller, is quite funny. Her mannerisms, Yiddish interjections and voice changes keep the audience laughing. Her show primarily draws a 40-and-over-crowd, but the relatable humor and self-deprecation in her show also make it family-friendly.

Seventy-five minutes of memories and laughter later, the audience will have its question about one-women shows answered: yes, it is possible. Baum proves it.

Tickets are still available for shows on Sunday, July 21, 5:45 p.m., and Sunday, July 28, 4:45 p.m., at Goethe Institut, 812 7th St. NW, Tickets can be bought at www.capitalfringe.org/.

‘Rabbit Hole’: Grief Without Solace at Keegan

July 22, 2013

Have you ever overheard or been part of one of those man-woman, husband-wife, boyfriend-girlfriend discussions where the situation is rife with potential for hours on end of argument, misunderstanding, verbal missteps and accidental inflictions of mortal wounds by thoughtless inflection, a sigh or a raised eyebrow?

“Rabbit Hole,” the Pulitzer Prize-winning play by David Lindsay Abaire, now getting an emotionally gripping performance by the Keegan Theatre, ratchets up the stakes by widening the battlefield to include not only a husband and wife, but a grandmother and sister, the barking of a beloved (by some) dog and a hesitant teenaged boy, all of them are dealing with the blowback of a gigantic grief after the loss of a four-year-old boy in an accident.

Death and loss is a staple of theater drama and tragedy, of course, and the death of a child only ups the ante, even if it is not unfamiliar stage fare. It ought to be cause for automatic tearing up, but Abaire, director Kerri Rambow and an outstanding cast don’t let the audience wallow but make it almost painful, no-exit observers of how people deal or don’t deal with an unfathomable tragedy. Abaire is a lyrical writer but not a sentimental one—he’s after a kind of geography of feeling which is mapped with empathy and love, sans judgement in the writing. The actors treat the material the same way—while the play abounds in opportunity and temptation to overact and pounce on emotions, they resist naturally, without any sweat or effort.

Talk all you want in funeral notice or celebratory tribute language about long illness, old age or how one will always be remembered. If there is great love—or even if not—or simply habit, no death prepares survivors for the absence and loss, the alterations in the lives remaining. There are thousands of things we do with parents, lovers, friends, partners, even pets, that simply disappear and instantly become the past with a last breath. With the death of a child, all these factors exist, with the added pain not only of the daily presence but the imagined future of a child now blasted from the horizon.

Becca and Howie have to navigate what was once the familiar landscape of home, living room, kitchen, bedrooms and the outside world revealed in conversation, like soldiers crawling through a minefield. All the familiar words we use in every day talk have become weighted, full of double and triple meanings, potentially incendiary, their surroundings glowing even in the dark with memories.

We first meet Becca in the kitchen of an expansive home—colorfully filling up the Keegan stage—folding clothes and putting them in a box, with the help of her excitable sister, the aptly named Izzy, who recounts a funny and tortured story about getting into a bar fight with the former girlfriend of her boyfriend. It is a funny story, to which Becca responds in brittle, sarcastic fashion, overly so, until you realize that the clothes she’s folding for charity are the lost boy’s clothing.

The “event” isn’t recent, but months ago. It still overshadows everything for Becca and husband Howie (played by real life husband and wife Susan Marie Rhea and Mark A. Rhea): how they move in the house, how much space is between them sitting and standing. In this context, Izzy is almost a reproachful example of life going on—she’s pregnant, she’s in life, and maybe love, a live wire by nature. Becca often stands like an obstacle, not quite rigid, but strong with unspent emotion and steely pragmatism. Her best friend hasn’t spoken to her since the child’s death, and Howie is trying to navigate the wrenching, roiling process of both keeping the boy alive in his memory while going back to a space before the awful accident. “I want to go back to the way we were,” he says, trying awkwardly, like a teenager on a first date, to get physical with Becca on the couch. In that scene, beautifully played by both Rheas, you can see for a brief moment, how they were at the start. The scene evaporates with Becca’s resistance, and it’s a poignant moment of loss for the audience.

Susan Marie Rhea plays the wife in such understated fashion, a woman barely maintaining control over not just herself but everybody else, that she seems almost chilly. She’s lost among other things the qualities that you see shadow-like, warm intelligence, a coy flintiness, deep passions. Mark’s character, Howie, is exactly the opposite. He’s lost his confidence and assurance of a place in the world he created. He slurs his words, he mumbles, he yells and he stumbles like a shadow-punching fighter. He’s meaty and needy.

The couple has reacted differently to what has happened. She’s trying to erase memory by boxing away photos—but keeping the kid’s room intact—books and anything that might spark a memory as well as putting up a for-sale sign on the house. Howie on the other hand wants a return. Shaking, he watches videos of him playing with the boy. He wants the dog—who helped cause the accident—back in the house, and he’s joined a support group.

Becca’s mom Nat is an irascible, powerhouse presence and present. She is a reminder of another loss, the suicide of Becca’s brother years ago, a memory that’s like a strong irritant on an open wound for both. But she’s also obsessively tart and funny—explaining her own theory of loss by way of the Kennedy family, for instance. Linda High plays her like a forceful mess.

Patrick Joy is almost awkwardly whimsical as the teenage boy, who, without real fault, caused the death of the child. Not so much as to make amends, he tries to provide a kind of cleansing and solace.

Solace, of course, is hard to come by in this play and on this stage. The process of grieving is a kind of grind, full of explosions, a dangerous process. The audience—in a case like this—is stuck in the same place as the character, wishing and hoping for them without knowing the end of the story. Abaire has the good sense to resist a placebo ending. All along, he’s resisted manipulating either the characters or the audience.