Other Desert Cities: No Oasis Here

With just one glimpse of the set of Other Desert Cities I knew I would instantly recognize the family that lives there -- affluent, conservative, and self-posessed. 

I was excited about seeing this show because of my friend's cryptic comment. She said only, "We must talk!", and refused to say another word until I had seen the play. Once I had seen it, she revealed that she hated it for many reasons. I did not hate it, but I did not think it lived up to the great reviews it received.

The first word that comes to mind is "overwrought." There was much hand-wringing and multiple plot twists. But in the end, I did not feel as if I had learned much about any of the characters. The daughter's mental breakdown felt unnecessary, as if it was tacked on to explain her need to write her memoir. I'm not really sure of the purpose of the aunt's character. Was she written just as a contrast to her sister? I don't really know.

The two most interesting characters were the sons -- one dead, one living. The dead son remained a mystery to me because, although his life and tragic death was at the center of the family's conversations, I learned precious little about who he really was. Maybe that's the point -- that they didn't take the time to find out what made him tick. The younger son, practically invisible to the rest of his family, became self-sufficient.

Based on this experience, I would happily eschew visiting this "desert city."

The Gershwins' Porgy And Bess: It Ain't Necessarily Bad

Audra McDonald and Norm Lewis

I'll be honest, I am not a huge fan of behemoth Broadway productions. I like small plays. I like musicals, too, but I prefer smaller ones. So it's surprising that I've decided to see the upcoming Broadway production of The Gershwins' Porgy and Bess. I mean, come on, it stars Norm Lewis as Porgy, Audra McDonald as Bess, and David Alan Grier as Sportin' Life. Caught my attention!

There's enough controversy surrounding this upcoming production to make a theatre-lover salivate. First, there was Patrick Healy's testy article, Stephen Sondheim's churlish response, and over 500 hateful, knee-jerk comments in support of Sondheim's letter. Reading those comments disturbed me. People were ready to hate a production that hasn't opened because of Sondheim's concerns. 

This reminded me of the hateful responses to the proposed Islamic Community Center in New York City. It was useless to point out that 1) it's a community center, not a mosque, 2) Muslims died in the horror of Nine-Eleven, and 3) people of Islamic faith live in, and contribute to, this community every day. Hate, born of fear, reigns supreme.

Aside from Mayor Bloomberg (big surprise!), politicians did little to stem the dyspeptic dialogue around this issue. The media covered it in a haphazard manner, and public outcry fueled the fury. In much the same way, thoughtless naysayers jumped on Stephen Sondheim's bandwagon, many deciding that the show was offensive before even one preview performance. Some decided not to see the show at all. And therein lies our biggest problem. In refusing to stop, think, and allow our worldview to expand, we hold on to learned responses with a death grip.

I plan to see the show with an open mind when it comes to Broadway. Reviews of the Cambridge production are positive. Here's hoping the hard-asses relent and give it a chance.

Skin: Shedding Ugly Truths

I liked this film, but I did not think it was perfect. The main actors – Neill, Krige, Okonedo and Kgoroge – performed their roles well. Sophie Okonedo was not completely believable as the teen-aged Sandra Laing, but that’s a small quibble given Okonedo's gargantuan talent.

The scenes that disturbed me most showed Sandra enduring humiliating racial tests, bleaching and seriously burning her skin with a dangerous homemade concoction of chemicals, and coming to terms with her parents’ deep denial of their own racism. 

What really saddened me is that so many people are more concerned with debunking the notion that two white-looking people can (biologically) produce a black-looking child, than with South Africa's brutal, hateful apartheid regime that tore this family apart, and turned a beautiful young girl’s life into a living hell. 

Unfortunately, the “one-drop rule” and the notion of white racial purity (tying to white superiority) remain rampant today, even in the good old US of A. We will likely solve world hunger and cure every disease imaginable before we eradicate that one! 

Tryst: Never Love A Stranger

Mark Shanahan and Andrea Maulella

I have seen several plays staged by the Irish Repertory Theatre in New York City, and I cannot remember ever being disappointed. Tryst is no exception.

This play took its audience on a wild ride with a con man seeking his next vulnerable prey, and the spinster who chooses to be that prey. As their two-day relationship progresses and their histories unfold, we learn that these two seemingly stock characters are much more complex than they first appeared. We learn that they both have secrets, fears, and severe emotional scarring. What happens next will not be revealed here. It suffices to say that the ending delivers a mind-numbing twist.

On a personal note, it was fun chatting during intermission with folks in the next row about the characters and their stories, and discussing how it might all turn out. After the play, my friend and I discussed Tryst over Thai food. What a perfect way to spend a summery Saturday afternoon in New York City!

The Help: Not So Helpless

I recently saw The Help, based on a book by Kathleen Stockett. The reviews were mixed, but mostly good. I liked it well enough, but I didn't love it.

I loved Viola Davis's performance as Abilene. I enjoy watching Ms. Davis do what she does best. I would pay to watch her pick up a rubber band! She inevitably imbues her characters with depth and nuance. I loved Octavia Spencer's fiery, sassy performance as Minny. It reminded me a little of Sophia in The Color Purple. Jessica Chastain was delightful as the social outcast Celia. I did not enjoy watching Bryce Dallas Howard's one-dimensional mean-spirited Hilly. It may be unfair to blame the actress because she may have been directed to play Hilly that way. But I found that character tiresome. Emma Stone's performance as Skeeter seemed, to me, adequate, but forgettable.

I grow weary of stories where white heros/saviors come to the aid of downtrodden colored folk, as if colored folk are unable to help themselves. It would have been more interesting if this story had been mainly about the maids and their ability to cope with constant degradation while keeping their dignity intact. Instead, this film seemed to focus on the two decent white people in town. Still, I'm glad I saw this film. I hope that next year the Oscar nominating committee remembers the standout performances.

MoLoRa: Revenge or Forgiveness?

Jabulile Tshabalala as Elektra

I recently saw MoLoRa (Ash, in SeSotho). I'm glad I did not miss it. 

Yael Farber's most recent work, Helen Saw writes, "reimagines the ancient Greek Oresteia to tell the story of her own country's painful and extraordinary transition to democracy. As Klytemnestra and Elektra--mother and daughter, perpetrator and victim--sit to face each other in an open hearing, MoLoRa reenacts a watershed moment in world history, illuminating the universal and excruciating choice for any victim: to seek revenge or choose forgiveness."

It was not lost on some critics, nor on me, that this story suggests we have the power to end cycles of revenge instead of repeating them in perpetuity as in Greek tragedies. More important, that is exactly what Nelson Mandela accomplished in South Africa. There's a sad commentary here that the US embraced only 'groupthink revenge' after 9/11.

One small observation: some audience members, despite the pre-show warning, seemed extremely annoyed about the smoke. I remember thinking, they can't stand a little smoke for five minutes? Do they understand how their discomfort pales in comparison to what black South Africans endured for lifetimes under the apartheid regime? And no, I don't think I'm being unsympathetic. 

Back in the summer of 2006, Yael Farber brought us Amajuba: Like Doves We Rise, another incredible theatre piece. I can barely wait to see what she brings us next.

The Scottsboro Boys: Tony Forgot

This year’s Tony awards show offered no surprises, and I desperately wanted to be surprised. I know most of the theatre-loving community realized ahead of time that The Book Of Mormon would walk away with most of the awards. Fine. 

But, The Scottsboro Boys received 12 nominations. And they received not one award! Not even the award for Best Score? Really? Insane! This is a completely listenable score. I know. I had it on my iPod on repeat for a long time.

This show is one of the ballsiest, gutsiest, most heartbreaking, heartwarming shows offered on Broadway this past season, and...nothing. I want to believe that times are changing; that diversity in the theatre is more than just a concept we toss around; that our theatre-loving hearts could open wide and embrace the beautiful tapestry. I’m losing faith.

The more things change, the more they stay the same. That’s okay, I guess. The Scottsboro Boys will embark on a national tour and the show will get the respect it deserves. I’m happy about that. I imagine, so are they.

I hope they kick ass out there!