John Lynd and Travis Rhett Wilson exceed high expectations in "Damned: John Wilkes Booth—Bloody Patriot."
The second installment in JTL Productions'
"Acting Out" Series, "Damned" is a visceral, riveting portrayal of one
of the most legendary and reviled villains in American history.
Lifelong comedian Lynd once again showcases
his skill in dramatic scriptwriting and intriguing, realistic stage
direction. Greeting the audience is an ominous display of Lincoln’s
portrait hanging between tattered Union and Confederate flags. Below
them, Lynd’s go-to actor enlivens the powerful text of brutal historical
truths, intriguing political and philosophical questions,
smirk-inducing anachronisms (Booth’s ghost has a century-and-a-half of
hindsight); as well as the moral morass of a (“probably psychotic”) man
willing to abandon extraordinary wealth and fame to sacrifice his life
for his country, or at least the Confederate version thereof. (To
paraphrase one of my favorite paradoxical bits: “How dare you enslave
and brutalize your fellow man... Now, do what we say, or we’ll blast you
to kingdom come!”)
Wilson never disappoints. A self-proclaimed
"character actor," Wilson commands the stage with verve and ease,
betraying the meekness the euphemism implies. He's not a
perpetual-supporter kind of actor. He's the real deal, able to enthrall a
sold-out house with nothing more than sheer talent and a few old-timey
props.
Though the early draft of the book lends
toward the dark side of its namesake, glossing over the lighter-hearted
aspects of Booth's life story—if indeed there are any—"Damned" proves
itself another great, original work the I.E. stages are privileged to
host, and one of the few bastions of legit theatre in a world choking on
commercial cud.
Watching
actors transcend memorized conversations and rehearsed behaviors to
face the peril and promise that a great script can provide is not just
thrilling, it’s the greatest purpose of live theatre.
Indeed,
when an actor can lose himself, can break free from fear and
self-awareness, he in turn enables us to abandon our own self-imposed
mental and emotional reservations, to confront the hidden truths that
define our lives. Even with the fluffier forms of performance art, deep
down that’s what we are paying to see: dangerous discovery, from the
vicarious comfort of our padded chairs – that is, when the performers
and company are up to the challenge.
3
Theatre Group is willing and capable, yet again, with subtle, soulful
performances in their west cost premiere of Charles Evered’s “Class.”
Painfully moving and at times intensely funny, this two-person, proudly
Grotowskian production accomplishes more in a tiny black box than
others are capable of, even with their grandiose movable sets, full
spectrum of colored lights and fully-paid twelve-piece orchestra. For
it is there, beneath all the misdirection, that the truth of the human
spirit resides, the spark for which entertainment exists; and when a
company makes that spark their aim, they are capable of creating a
truly powerful fire.
Such
is the case with director Robin Russin’s beautifully crafted sophomore
effort with 3TG. Adroit pacing and refined portrayals from actors Paul
Jacques and Melissa Kirk will surely make this one of the best IE
theatre productions of 2011. The actors’ believable, well-timed
exchanges range from knee-slapping funny to tear-wiping morose and are a
cathartic joy to behold. Jacques, an award-winning
writer/director/producer proves why he deserves such laurels – because
he can step on the stage and bring it. As with his heart-rending turn in
last season’s 3TG production of Evered’s period piece “Celadine,”
Jacques gives a layered, impressively naturalistic performance that puts
him in a near-peerless class of local actors. I love watching this man
work. His shows should be required attendance for his many theatre
students; for in watching Jacques do his thing, they’d be able to write
lengthy dissertations about the power and soul-changing nature of the
art. Moreover, Kirk’s not-so-ditzy starlet-turned-thespian plays well
against Jacques’ burn-out acting coach. Her earnestness humanizes the
character, making her both endearing and intriguing.
This
weekend 3 Theatre's "Class" gives you an opportunity for true
aesthetic sustenance. So please consider your health, and don’t fall
for the glitzy packaging and empty promises that the fast franchises
sling.
Yeah,
so, I wanted to do the whole start-with-a-dictionary-definition thing,
but the primary denotations of "adaptation" were too simple. I mean,
"the act of adapting; the state of being adapted." Really? That's it?
Then I scrolled down... Turns out the biological definition is not only
more detailed, it's wholly appropriate, even perfect for the subject of
this piece.
You
see, on far too many occasions I've seen Shakespeare "adaptations" that
only require the creative efforts of the production’s aesthetic
designers. Pick a decade, find the right garb, Google pics of the right
haircuts, scrounge around for a few props and you're set. That's an
adaptation, right? Uh, not quite.
Check this, courtesy of Dictionary.com:
"Adaptation [ad-uhp-tey-shuhn] –– noun
— 4a. Any alteration in the structure or function of an organism or any
of its parts that results from natural selection and by which the
organism becomes better fitted to survive and multiply in its
environment."
Besides
providing Western culture with some of its most celebrated and enduring
literary works, the Bard's tome gives the modern troupe something few
scripts can: pliability. Sure, just about any ancient text can be
changed (no licensing fees, copyright liabilities, etc.), but
Shakespeare is different. Big Willy's plays, with their timeless
psychological complexity, built-in fanbase and familiar narratives —
especially "Hamlet," the best of his best — provide innumerable
possibilities to be daring, innovative; to wow your audience by
transforming 400 year old scripts into relevant, cutting-edge
entertainment. The trick is to go deeper than the skin.
Cue
Inland Stage Company's "The Suffragette Hamlet," a true, high-caliber
adaptation. Set in the 1910's during the height of America's women's
rights movement, adroit adapter/director Darcie Flansburg goes beyond
the trivial to give us a whole new reimagining. She reverses the
genders. No, it's not one of those dilettante epicene-ist efforts where
women are merely dressed in pants and play the male roles. No, Flansburg
completely flips the script: Hamlet is a young woman, whose mother is
murdered by her aunt, Claudia; whose boyfriend, Ophelio, loses it and
drowns himself after Hamlet murders his mother, Polly; whose fateful
duel with Ophelio's bloodlustful sister, Lydia, results in Hamlet's —
and just about everyone else's — brutal, untimely end.
In
their flipping, Flansburg and her strong cast — doing their best work —
manage to breathe new, modern life into the Bard's perennial drama.
Yvonne
Flack delivers as Hamlet. A Ph.D candidate in literature and film,
currently working on a dissertation about “Hamlet,” Flack has an
extraordinary understanding of the play and titular character, which
lent well to her interpretation and performance.
Emphasizing
the (often hilarious) intrigue between Hamlet and her childhood
friends, Rosie Crantz and Guilda Stern, is a wonderful touch, readily
showing off Flansburg’s comedic prowess through the sparkling chemistry
of Kaylee Tardy and Erin Christine Feaster (Rosie and Guilda,
respectively).
The
idea of twin sisters made the grisly familial intrigue even more lurid.
Utilizing the same actress (Monica Reichl) for the roles of the Claudia
and Hamlet’s mother’s ghost was another great choice. As was John
Wesley Leon’s (Gerald) in playing out the drama as unaware of his
sister-in-law’s, er, second wife’s murderous streak until the closing
genocide. As was having Ophelio (Dane Johnston) drunk and bottle-nursing
during his pre-suicide ramblings.
And
the clincher... the element that puts this production among the best
Shakespeare you’ll see in the I.E., is the live music: part creepy
Baroque, part dark Victorian jazz, part experimental Spanish guitar, and
all Sean Longstreet —
the überskilled one-man band that riffs and jams under and around the
actors’ spoken poetry, creating a haunting, even cinematic effect —
especially during Hamlet’s monologues — that’d be a crime to miss.
According
to Paul Gaugin, the French Post-impressionist painter, "Art is either
plagiarism or revolution." So... Dying for a bit of theatrical
insurrection? originality? change? Then do yourself a favor, and catch
ISC's genuine adaptation "The Suffragette Hamlet," or "Hamlette"... or
what you will.
