Vanya and Sonia and Masha(!) and Spike(!)

L to R: Anthony Fusco, Caroline Kaplan, Mark Junek and Lorri Holt. Photo courtesy of kevinberne.com

One of the best suggestions I ever took was to take an acting class in order to learn the mechanics of what actors really do. It turned out to be an education in more ways than one, especially on the day when eight pairs of students had to perform the same page of dialogue from Neil Simon's Barefoot in the Park. I had never seen the play, nor the movie, but my familiarity with the author gave me an idea of how the scene should probably go. Or so I thought. The instructor gave us no rules or guidelines beyond the directive "learn the lines." How we delivered them was up to us.

So it came as no small revelation on the day when the eight pairs of us wannabe actors performed eight scenes from eight completely different plays. We all delivered the exact same lines, but that was really the only thing each performance had in common. It was pretty amazing to see how such seemingly ordinary lines could have so many interpretations- and how many of those interpretations were wholly justifiable decisions. By turns the scene was funny, melodramatic, absurd, and sad. It all depended on the delivery.

In the years since, I've often watched plays and films and wondered what would be different if the lines a given actor, or some part of their performance, were delivered differently. I've also noticed that when I begin to ask myself these questions it means I'm not sold on the performance I'm watching. Something happening onstage or onscreen is pulling me from the immediate experience, making me desire an alternative version. Most recently I experienced this last week at the Roda Theatre during Berkeley Rep's opening night of the West Coast premiere of Christopher Durang's Tony Award-winning Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike. 

All of the actors assembled for this Chekovian farce are top-notch, as is the set by Kent Dorsey and the costumes by Debra Beaver Bauer.Sadly, it's the direction by Richard E.T. White that undermines Durang's witty script, which is laden with sharp dialogue, vivid characters, some keen insight and more than a few laughs. The script of Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike takes characters, situations, and themes from Chekov's plays and spins them into frothy social commentary featuring Vanya and Sonia, who have spent the last fifteen years caring for their now-deceased parents now rambling around a huge Pennsylvania home in their pajamas, supported by their sister Masha, a Hollywood actress now getting offered matronly roles after a career of being cast as a sexpot. One day Masha returns home unexpectedly with the intent of selling the family home, effectively kicking her siblings to the curb after they've sacrificed their entire lives sacrificing their entire lives for their parents.

The early scenes with Anthony Fusco (Vanya) and Sharon Lockwood (Sonia) serving up long-held frustrations and resentments to one another before Masha's return set the stage for a promising evening which goes off the rails shortly after Masha's (Lorri Holt) entrance with Spike (Mark Junek), her most recent male-of-the-month. For the next two hours White has Holt and Junek perform "at eleven" without once letting the actors breathe a bit of actual life into the roles by allowing them to dial it down a bit. Instead, the farce becomes forced, and Durang's succession of well-crafted exchanges becomes frustrating, then exhausting, as everyone keeps playing the same repeated note for volume rather than effect. And that's a shame because when the audience finally does get to see a glimpse behind the mask of these characters it's apparent that an opportunity at sharp, subtle comedy (see Chekov, Anton) comedy has been tossed away in favor of a shallow attempt to fish a constant stream of yuks from the audience.

Lockwood slyly steals the show, managing to give Sonia a real arc despite the clatter around her. Fusco has a brilliant moment during a haranguing monologue pitting the digital present against a Kodachrome past. Heather Alicia Simms manages to rise above almost uncomfortable stereotyping as Cassandra, the household maid who can sometimes accurately foretell the future, sometimes not so much, and Caroline Kaplan scores the highest ratio of hitting the target dead-on as Nina, a young neighbor who walked off the set of The Seagull to admire Masha and Spike but becomes a student of Uncle Vanya.

Holt and Junek don't fare as well, though one wishes they could. Both are obviously talented actors, and Junek's physical presence onstage is massive, but through the majority of the play neither is given much of an opportunity to present their characters as more than caricatures. White doesn't seem to understand that the script has already done that part for them- what would have been nice to see is the humanity that's hiding in just beneath the surface, and as I said, when he finally does it's too late. The ending also feels forced and false- it's way too sunshiny, and a little "Rain" would have been more appropriate. That one's on Durang.

 Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike plays through October 25th at Berkeley Rep's Roda Theatre.

Real lives imagined at Berkeley Rep

Hershey Felder in George Gershwin Alone: Photo by Mark Gavin

Onstage now at Berkeley Rep are two plays about three real people: one works quite well, and the other not so much because of two hurdles it can't overcome despite the best efforts of its talented cast.

The one that works is George Gershwin Alone, which is and isn't quite an accurate title. A one-man show conceived, written and performed by Hershey Felder with direction by Joel Zwick, it's an hour and a half of sitting in a room with Gershwin while he reminisces about his life, family, friends, collaborators and music, with lots of examples played on a Steinway Grand. The play acts as the third movement, described as a rondo, in a quartet of plays which include movements about Beethoven, Chopin, and a coda based on Leonard Bernstein. Felder's been performing this section around the world since 2000, and he mentioned during the "encore" section that this was to be the last time and I recommend you do.

It's not quite perfect, but it's pretty damn good and it delivers on everything that it should. Felder is a talented impersonator, knows the details of his subject's music and life in minute detail, and is wholly convincing as an actor and musician. My one quibble, and it's a minor one, is his extended solo turn at the piano late in the show which rambled on for too long and in the end seemed to serve no purpose but to fill out some time. That hour and a half was a very good time, but it's what followed which really made it memorable. Returning to the stage for what appeared to be a curtain call, or maybe an encore, turned out to be much, much more. In fact, it's this last part (I won't tell you what it is) that turns out to be the very best part of an already solid show. All I will say is that Felder proceeds to bring the audience into the show itself in a most delightful, honest way. Don't leave when it's over, because it ain't.

I'd also like to give a nod to sound designer Jon Gottleib- this was the most perfectly miked show I have ever attended, and thank you for having the good sense to not mike the piano (one would think that's a given, but I was appalled to recently attend a piano recital in a music club where a Steinway was miked and it was dreadful. George Gershwin Alone is on the Thrust Stage in Berkeley through July 7th- go see it.

Felder also mentioned from the stage that on Monday, June 17th he would be performing The American Songbook Singalong. He mentioned there were a very few tickets left and I want to strongly recommend that based on what I witnessed this evening if you have the opportunity to attend this that you not miss what sounds like a wonderful evening.

Dear Elizabeth uses actors reading the letters of the poets Elizabeth Bishop and Robert Lowell (to one another) as a means to explore aspects known and imagined of their long relationship. Written by Sarah Ruhl and directed by Les Waters, with Mary Beth Fisher as Bishop and Tom Neils as Lowell, the assembled talent can't overcome two structural elements which combine to derail the play quickly. The first is that no matter how cleverly one stages it, there is no drama to be wrung from someone reading aloud for two hours to a person who isn't actually in the room (even if the other person is onstage). The result is two people giving a simultaneous one-person show, and a one-person show more often fails than it succeeds because let's face it- most characters just aren't compelling enough to watch for an extended amount of time. There are the rare exceptions (see above, and also I Am My Own Wife or An Iliad as recently seen at Berkeley Rep), but for the most part such plays are likely to end up being krapp. With this particular play, the problem is laid bare when at what should be a pivotal moment the audience is forced to choose whom to watch as each character stands at the opposite end of the stage looking at opposite walls- they are obviously not connecting and thus the audience cannot connect with them- we know not whom to watch, and soon it didn't matter, though there was a lot of play left. This one is only for serious fans of its subjects, at the Roda Theatre through July 7th.

Pericles, post-punk, in Berkeley

Evan Zes, Annapurna Sriram and Rami Margron in Berkeley Rep's Pericles, Prince of Tyre. Photo courtesy of mellopix.com 

There are so many things that can go wrong when a company decides to do Shakespeare. Double that risk if it’s not one of the “better” plays, and double down again if the script is cut. So it’s pleasing to report that not only does Mark Wing-Davey’s take on Pericles, Prince of Tyre do justice to a problematic play, but it does so with a kind of gleeful post-punk self-awareness of what can and can’t be done with the thing. It's what Shakespeare might look like if John Waters made a sincere attempt at him.

Seriously cut, it feels more episodic than ever and if your attention wanders for a moment you’ll likely get lost but it’s also easy to find your way back. There’s a lot clamoring for one’s attention on the smartly designed-set, whether it’s the home-made of look of many of the instruments used by the trio of musicians parked above the floor, Ninja stagehands, a brawling Batman and Robin, or a King in Klimt dress (the costumes by Meg Neville are marvelously realized creations). The music, which is present through most if not all of the production, by Marc Gwinn consistently enhances the action and never distracts from it. However, apart from the actors, it’s really the scenic design by Peter Ksander and Douglas Stein which makes the most lasting impression. My favorite sly touch is how the marital bed in which Pericles’ family is conceived then becomes the vessel upon which it is destroyed and returns once again for, well, you’ll see if you pay attention. But there are also tweaks in script that zip by in a flash and don’t be surprised if you find yourself thinking wait- that’s not Shakespeare- that's Monty Python.

The cast of eight is solid, led by Anita Carey’s Gower and David Barlow in the title role. Everyone else doubles at least in other roles, with James Carpenter seeming the most at home with the Bard’s language as multiple kings, but all acquit themselves just fine. Jessica Kitchens is a marvelously physical actor. But it’s really Wing-Davey’s vision that keeps this Pericles always interesting and at times makes it soar, escpecially during the first half. Through May 26^th at Berkeley Rep’s Thrust Stage. Recommended.

Fallaci

Concetta Tomei as Oriana Fallaci. Photo courtesy of kevinberne.com

It didn't take long to recognize the chunks of the dialogue in Fallaci, Lawrence Wright's new play about Italian journalist/provocateur Oriana Fallaci, which were lifted pretty much straight from Margaret Talbot's 2006 piece "The Agitator" (published in in The New Yorker, for which Wright also writes). It was so noticeable that I wondered to myself that if I had only taken the time to track down the 1981 Playboy interview with Fallaci, would I have inadvertently and unwittingly read most of the play before seeing it? Let's assume the answer to that question is no, if only because pursuing it would serve no real purpose other than as additional evidence that the play is lazy and unoriginal. And there's enough of that onstage already.

That's a damn shame because Fallaci's larger-then-life, gleefully antagonistic persona is a natural for the theater, and she gets a worthy interpretation by Concetta Tomei in a finely-tuned performance. While Tomei holds her own well enough, she can't take up enough room onstage to divert the audience's attention from Marjan Neshat's portrayal of Maryam- a young reporter who is meant to be Fallaci's double/mirror/antithesis/daughter/younger self, etc. etc. etc we get it. Really. Thank you.

The character of Maryam is so uninterestingly written and presented here (though the set by Robin Wagner is note-perfect) that it's hard to say how much of the result rests with Neshat, and I'm tempted to give her a complete pass. That another actor to do much more with the role is hard to imagine. It's a great set-up- a young reporter, a young female, Muslim reporter, is sent to interview Fallaci for her eventual obituary. In fact it's a fucking brilliant premise, and I can see why Berkeley Rep wanted to stage it. Sadly, instead of something that could have easily (on paper at least) had the bite of  Frost/Nixon, Fallaci comes off as little more than a staged version of a Lifetime network biopic.

Through April 21 at Berkeley Rep's Roda Theatre, 2015 Addison St., Berkeley (easily accessible by BART). Call 510-647-2949 for tickets or visit www.berkeleyrep.org.

Talk to her

Oriana Fallaci- self-portrait. Photo courtesy of Edoardo Perazzi/Fallaci provate collections

The world premiere of Fallaci, written by Pulitzer-winner Lawrence Wright, opens at Berkeley Rep next week.