Sunday, April 1, 2018

Kinsmen Meet at Dramaworks’ World Premiere of Edgar and Emily by Joseph McDonough


On a snowy evening in 1864 the poet laureate of death, Emily Dickinson, is visited by the master of the macabre, Edgar Allan Poe in a world premiere play, Joseph McDonough’s Edgar and Emily at Palm Beach Dramaworks.  And indeed the play is shaped around the main theme of many of their poems (or stories): death (and its corollary, what it means to live), Emily taking a more transcendental view and Poe the ghoulish. 

Although this may seem initially distressing, this delicate but insightful play is a work of art.  Its universal truths lie between comedy and melancholy.  Throughout the play there are pratfalls or physical comedic elements to give it an absurdist twist, giving the audience permission to laugh, even though the characters are two well known poets and the subject matter is one we all generally try to avoid thinking about.

Its brevity (one act packed into 1-1/4 hours) belies its profundity.  It is like a Dickinson poem, a meaningful deliberation of what it means to live and die laid bare in but a few lines.  I kept on thinking of one of my favorite Dickinson poems “I died for beauty”* which has the phrase “as kinsmen met a night.”  In many respects, Dickinson and Poe are kinsmen.  Words intensely mattered to them, and ultimately Edgar and Emily led us there.

Those absurdist elements allow this unlikely meeting to suddenly occur fifteen years after Poe’s death. But he is very much alive, stumbling into Dickinson’s universe, her bedroom in her parent’s house in Amherst.   But wait, what is it he drags around with him?  It’s his coffin!  Naturally Emily is indignant at this man visiting her in her room, claiming to be Edgar Allan Poe, and how can this be so many years after his death?  Easy explanation, after being buried alive he was miraculously rescued by a woman in white, perhaps an angel (ironically, Dickinson is normally attired in white), with the condition he take his coffin wherever he goes.  Unfortunately, he is being chased by his doppelganger who wants to make his rigor mortis permanent.  


The play is a beautiful piece of writing, smoothly flowing from comedy, to poetry to expectation of flight, to deep philosophical discussions of what it means to live with eternity before birth and after death.  They reveal themselves to one another and in the process both are changed.  The play ultimately leads to Poe suggesting that he and Emily go out into the world together.  Her hesitation, whether she could bring her words, creates as much dramatic tension as the ominous voice of his pursuer crying out, “Poe!” 

When Gregg Weiner as Edgar Allan Poe barges into Dickinson’s bedroom, he is agitated and in great fear that he’s being followed.  He is totally indifferent to the woman in the room.  When he tells her who he is, laughter erupts as he ends up defending his own work.  The tables soon turn and he expresses a cynical dismissiveness about her claims of being a poet as well.  Weiner’s nuanced performance creates an aura of unpredictability.  His gift for comedic sarcasm is much in evidence, such as his exchange with Emily when he first reads one of her poems: “I have survived poetry that is considerably more nauseating than yours” which Emily takes as a compliment, Edgar going on to say “In fact, I will admit….I detect in your poetics, a concise resignation to morbidity that I personally find exhilarating.”

It is a joy to watch Weiner dial up those comedic elements while at the same time expressing his terrified awe surrounding the mysteries of life, his fear of death, and his struggle to resolve his present dilemma.  Here he has the help of Emily.


Margery Lowe is the veteran of fifteen appearances on the Dramaworks stage.  Her versatility as an actress shines in the part of Emily Dickinson, with shades of some zaniness juxtaposed to the gravitas of the character of Emily Dickinson.  Lowe’s Dickinson ranges from being an uncertain, sheltered woman, entirely inexperienced in the ways of the world, unlike Poe, to being a poet of unmatched greatness, her inner world immeasurable.   And if you’re looking for verisimilitude, it also helps that Lowe is about the size of Dickinson and with similar hair coloring.  Another doppelganger!

Lowe exhibits all the emotions from bewilderment, to fear, to being dismissive of Poe’s work such as The Raven (“You rhymed ‘lattice’ with ‘thereat is’? It’s no wonder someone’s trying to kill you”). She’s coy about having Poe read some of her poems, and at last amazingly tempted to leave her universe (but asking plaintively “Will I be safe from the enormity of living?”).  Lowe announces her decision as a central truth of Dickinson’s art: “I am the queen of infinite space here in my room ….I fear the rest of the world might prove tiny.”  It’s a bravo performance to pull all of this off, particularly staying grounded in comedy of which Lowe is a master such as when she breathlessly says to Edgar, “You praised my morbidity! I am so happy!”

Avoiding spoilers, the play inexorably moves to a conclusion shaped by the two characters, one most audiences will find gratifying, even breathtaking, the climax eliciting an audible gasp from the audience, a touch of magical realism, enhanced by lighting and color. 

Both must live their lives, for whatever the duration.  For all of us, “Living is shockingly brief.”  And for Poe and Dickinson, in particular, “The words are the only living, lasting things we have.”  Since Lowe and Weiner have been on the stage opposite one another several times before, their chemistry has been honed to perfection.

PBD Producing Artistic Director William Hayes directs the play and has been involved since its gestation, purposely picking local actors, Margery Lowe and Gregg Weiner to go with him and the playwright on the journey from the Dramaworkshop to the Main Stage.  He wisely concentrates on the comedic elements of the play, making sure the jokes and quirky dialogue are highlighted.  Comedy is always an audience pleaser while the dark drama of the play, the tug of war between living and dying, is always disturbing but should stimulate mindful conversation.  It is life’s one unconditional.


Hayes also relies heavily on his technical crew to bring the play to fruition.   Scenic design by Michael Amico is simply stunning, while realistically depicting what could pass as Emily Dickinson’s 19th century bedroom, but symbolically casting that room through time and space, enveloping it in the wild world of Edgar Allan Poe.  So, like the play, there are unconventional elements.

Lighting design by Paul Black is particularly critical to the play.  Here is a room supposedly lit by candles.  As they are extinguished or lit, lighting has to gradually anticipate each action, it being jarring to just turn the spots on and off.  It all comes across so naturally, as does the shift from light to darkness during the more ominous moments in the play.  Watch the lighting at the very beginning as Emily stands at her window, the snow falling, lit like a Rembrandt portrait.  Breathtaking.

Usually sound is merely to establish mood, but here sound is more integral to the action.  Sound design by David Thomas heightens the suspenseful moments, the storm raging outside, the wind whirling when the window is blown open, the banging of the coffin as it is dragged up the stairs.  There is the terrifying crying out of Poe’s doppelganger, “Poe, Poe, Poe!”  And here and there we hear a musical interlude, particularly at the beginning, classical violin and piano to (falsely) establish just another calm night in the life of Emily Dickinson.  When Poe tells his tale of being rescued from the coffin, the sound effects of the story are like those used in movies, unusual on stage, but eerily appropriate for this production.

The one technical element which has little room for departure from reality is the magnificent costumes by Brian O’Keefe.  Emily is known for being a “lady in white” especially later in life, so O’Keefe complies with a beautiful costume, ostensibly white under the lights but actually a shade of grey, with some gold thread to counteract the grey.  The dress is slightly ethereal, as is her poetry.  Poe meanwhile, known to be usually in black, is indeed dressed in a dark jacket, but with a ruby waistcoat and pinstripe pants, depicting his once outrageously profligate and debauched lifestyle.

As Emily says, “Words endure, Mr. Poe. They endure.”  And so are those of playwright Joseph McDonough, who has already been commissioned for a new play during Dramaworks’ 2019 season.  Edgar and Emily is sure to provide gratification as well as enlightenment to those who are open to the experience of an absurdist drama about two of our most famous poets.


*Poem number 449 in Emily Dickinson’s Complete Poems

I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.
 
He questioned softly why I failed?
“For beauty,” I replied.
“And I for truth,—the two are one;
We brethren are,” he said.
 
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.

 


“I cannot tell how Eternity seems. It sweeps around me like a sea… Thank you for remembering me. Remembrance — mighty word”  -- Emily Dickinson


Photographs of Margery Lowe as Emily Dickinson and Gregg Weiner as Edgar Allan Poe are by Samantha Mighdoll
 




Saturday, March 10, 2018

There Is Nothin’ Like South Pacific at the Maltz



Nothin' in the world.

To paraphrase Samuel Johnson, when a person is tired of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s South Pacific, one is tired of life.  How many times have we seen this glorious musical, from Broadway to regional productions?  Many.  And how many times have I played its captivating music on the piano?  Thousands.

So what does the Maltz Jupiter Theatre’s production have to offer?  Plenty.

First and foremost is a full professional cast of 28 that would rival any Broadway assemblage.  Then, the show plays to the Maltz’s strength: classic musicals that are not road shows, but original from the bottom up, casting, scenic design, costumes, musical arrangements, and expert directing.  Finally, the secret ingredient: an intimacy which is unusual for a big production.  We saw South Pacific at the Kravis years ago.  Although excellent, we’re talking about a theatre which seats more than 2,000 and seeing a full-size Broadway-designed musical is not the same as enjoying the intimacy of a 600 seat Maltz.  The music, the performances, the sheer energy simply reaches out and envelops the audience.  In fact, the performers are up and down the aisles, often interacting with the audience. 

Then of course it is the greatness of Rodgers and Hammerstein, and their place in transforming the musical genre from merely a series of songs loosely tied together.  Their groundbreaking Oklahoma! solidified the importance of “the book” in the Broadway musical, with music, songs, dance all integral to the plot.  Plots became more complex such as in South Pacific, two main story lines interwoven, each tackling a subject which was taboo before, interracial relations, all of this against the backdrop of WW II in the South Pacific. 

It was based on a series of interrelated short stories, the Tales of the South Pacific by James Michener, with the book for the musical by Oscar Hammerstein II and Joshua Logan.  The importance of the themes was underscored by its winning The Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 1950, a rare distinction for a musical.  Its relevancy today is undiminished.  Its place as a classic among American musicals has been assured by the glorious melodies of Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein’s lyrics, irrefutably one of the best musicals of the twentieth century.

When Erin Davie as Nellie belts out "A Cockeyed Optimist" at the beginning of the show you might as well be sitting in the front row of a Broadway production.  Hammerstein’s lyrics and Rodgers bouncy melody announces her typically apple pie American attitude towards life, in spite of the war surrounding her, Davie giving her introductory song a special cheery oomph.  Davie’s voice is a sweet soprano, but what she might lack in vocal power is more than compensated for by how spellbindingly she sells a song with her irresistible stage presence.

Segue to the other co-star, Nicholas Rodriguez as Emile, whose duet with Nellie in "Twin Soliloquies" establishes his character and showcases Rodriquez’s rich baritone while alternating with Nellie’s dreamy lyrics.  This is an ardent falling-in-love duet.  Then Rodriquez tenderly delivers what is perhaps Rodgers and Hammerstein’s most famous love song, "Some Enchanted Evening" recalling how he and Nellie met.

The stage is set for a more upbeat number sung by the talented Sailors, Seabees and Marines, "Bloody Mary" followed by the rousingly iconic "There Is Nothing Like a Dame."  We’re talking pure testosterone-high- energy in these production numbers with impressive choreography by Connor Gallagher.

Bloody Mary, played by Jodi Kimura sings the ballad "Bali Ha'i" with an exotic dreamy quality.  Kimura knows how to play to the audience and she’s the center of attention when on stage.  The moment she sees the other major character Lieutenant Cable played by Stephen Mark Lukas, Kimura articulates what the audience sees, telling a Seabee that “you not sexy like Lieutenant.”  Lukas’ rendition of the beautiful ballad, “Younger than Springtime” sung to Liat, Bloody Mary’s daughter, is especially memorable.

 His other major song "You've Got to Be Carefully Taught" is the one which cuts to the core of South Pacific, a world torn apart by war and more thematically in this show, racism.  It was like no other song before in a Broadway musical.  Lukas performs the song with anger and self loathing, not being able to shake his inbred prejudices. 

Christian Marriner who plays seaman Luther Billis, “a sailor who bullies, bribes, and charms his way”, offers a show stopping performance in “Honey Bun.”  He performed this role in the national touring company of South Pacific which explains his owning this part with such assurance and bravado, bringing forth rousing applause from the audience.

The concluding scene, Emile returning from a dangerous mission and discovers Nellie singing "Dites-Moi" with his children, Ngana and Jerome (played by Hana Roberts and Ray Zurawin), is a guaranteed tearjerker as Emile completes the song.  He and Nellie rush into each other’s arms.  She has made the transition from being “as corny as Kansas in August” to knowing “I have found me a wonderful guy” (in spite of his being previously married to a Polynesian).  Love conquers all, even ingrained prejudice. 

The show is performed under the award-winning director Gordon Greenberg’s extraordinary expertise, whose credits include Broadway and PBS Great Performances' show, Irving Berlin's Holiday Inn and London's acclaimed West End revival of Guys and Dolls.  He directed the Maltz Theatre's critically-acclaimed hit production of Barnum in 2009.  With so many performers on stage it is a feat to direct South Pacific, with the production moving flawlessly, the invisible director’s hand at work.

The Maltz South Pacific production especially succeeds in stunning scenic designs by Paul Tate dePoo III, with scene changes on the fly and little interruption.  Costume designer Tristan Raines reveals a creative and colorful imagination, yet period perfect.  Lighting designer Rob Denton bathes the stage in exotic Island colors.  And the 13 piece LIVE orchestra under the musical direction of Eric Alsford delivers the exceptional accompaniment that a musical of this caliber deserves.

And so once again a great musical from the mid twentieth century has been brightly polished and finds relevancy today.  The Maltz Jupiter Theatre production of South Pacific is not to be missed.


Photos in order of appearance:Erin Davie and Nicholas Rodriguez, Photo by Alicia Donelan;  Surrounded by Seabees, Jodie Kimura portrays Bloody Mary, Photo by Charlotte Donelan;  Shea Renne and Stephen Mark Lukas, Photo by Alicia Donelan;  Stephen Mark Lukas and Shea Renne, Photo by Zak Bennett;  Erin Davie and Nicholas Rodriguez (center) with Hana Roberts and Ray Zurawin, Photo by Charlotte Donelan;  Erin Davie portrays Nellie Forbush, Photo by Alicia Donelan

 

Thursday, March 8, 2018

I Didn’t Know About You



The longer I live the more I’m astounded by the beautiful music of the Great American Songbook.  You think you’ve heard all those classic songs, ones which will endure and transcend what passes as popular music today, and suddenly you hear a “new” one (at least to me), either at a jazz jam or even on the old fashioned radio. 

One would think radio is a thing of the past, all the FM stations mostly devoted to contemporary “music” until Legends Radio 100.3 FM was founded in the Palm Beaches by professional broadcaster Dick Robinson, who is also the founder of the Society for the Preservation of the Great American Songbook.  Even though local, it’s available world-wide at LegendsRadio.com.

I remember pulling out of our driveway one day, listening to 100.3 and hearing I Didn’t Know About You.  I said to Ann that song sounds like one by Duke Ellington.  His In a Sentimental Mood is one of my favorites. I made a mental note of the song and looked it up in one of my Jazz fake books when we returned home and sure enough, it’s by Duke Ellington, with beautiful lyrics written by Bob Russell. 

The version we heard on the radio was performed by one of a jazz favorites, Jane Monheit who we saw a couple of years ago at the Colony on Palm Beach.


I’ve incorporated I Didn’t Know About You in my own piano repertoire, and since I haven’t posted anything on YouTube in some time, I offer it here, so there is some documentation of my love of this music.  It is with profound gratitude to the great musical artists who created this body of music, loosely referred to as The Great American Songbook.  It enriches our lives. May it endure!

Sunday, March 4, 2018

Spring Training and the Boys of Summer



Spring. Renewal.  It seems that with every passing year, replenishment of the spirit becomes a higher priority: this year, perhaps even more so, given the chaotic destruction of government, and the deterioration of civility.

One remaining constant is baseball, spring training, and the boys of summer gathering once again: the crack of the bat and the pounding of gloves in the bullpen.

The game has changed from the days of my own boyhood.  Pitchers then generally went nine innings, maybe more.  There were no designated hitters, few bullpen stoppers, salary arbitration, automatic walks, game clocks, ML baseball drafts, protective helmets (inside pitches were integral to the game), anti-spitball rules, instant replay challenges, and preposterous salaries (and ticket prices).  “Hey, get your hot dog and cold beer, $10 each!”

Perhaps some of these adjustments are for the better.  But, essentially, the game changed to remain the same and with spring, the clock is wound once again.

Our friends Cathy and John are Boston Red Sox fans, the archenemy of us New York Yankee devotees. When they asked whether I wanted to join them to see the Sox play the St. Louis Cardinals at our nearby Roger Dean Jupiter stadium, I said, sure, why not, an opportunity to scout the opposition and engage in some good-natured ribbing.

And scouting it was, as the Sox were traveling from FL’s west coast and only brought a handful of regulars.  So, it was an opportunity to see some of their players of the future.  It’s the same reason we have regular tickets to Class A+ minor league ball after spring training – to see the future.

The day before Cathy and John saw the Red Sox lose to the Houston Astros 10-5 at the neighboring Ball Park of the Palm Beaches in West Palm Beach.  I jokingly predicted that the Red Sox might win against the Cards by the same score, and was almost right, winning 9-6.  Well, at least I guessed the total number of runs correctly.

It was a sell-out, standing room only crowd.  John and Cathy had obtained tickets several weeks before. When the Sox or the Yankees visit FL’s east coast from their west coast spring training facilities, which is rare, tickets are scarce.  We had seats with a good view between third base and left field in the second tier.  Best of all, these seats were in the shade. 

It was strange to watch the two teams go through their warm up and batting practice exercises as both teams had red jerseys on.  When play finally started it was hard to tell who was fielding behind a base or who was on base.  I had to keep looking at the scoreboard to tell which team was at bat.

Two pitchers from their normal rotation started, Bud Norris of the St. Louis Cards and Drew Pomeranz of the Red Sox.  Both left the games with injuries before they completed their allotted two or three innings, Norris because of a hamstring injury and Pomeranz because of a forearm tightness issue.

The righty Norris in action:












 



















The lefty Pomeranz in action:














 

















Norris got into trouble in the first inning giving up a well hit home run to one of the few Boston regulars who played, Andrew Benintendi.  I managed to get a shot of Benintendi’s follow through swing as he hit that ball: 


An inning later, Norris left the game after this conference on the mound:
 

So there were lots of hits, runs, errors in the game, making it interesting, even though it was only practice, but to see the boys of summer in the spring means some order and stability in the world.  Doesn’t it?

As it is that time of year, and having loved The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach, Ann bought me another “baseball novel” to read, selecting Bucky F*cking Dent by the very well known screen actor, David Duchovny.  I first hesitated reading it, an actor writing a novel, perhaps just capitalizing on his fame.  But, no, Duchovny is a good writer as well and I’ll give him credit for what I would describe as a “late coming of age” novel, a son confronting his father after years of estrangement. 

Who knew, the dad and son are really very much alike.  Problem is the dad is dying and as he’s an ardent Bosox fan, the son (ironically subsisting as the ace Peanut thrower vendor at Yankee stadium) moves in with his father and conspires (with his father’s friends) to keep him away from the fact that the Sox are slipping in the standings as the 1978 season comes to an end.  They censor current newspapers and run VCR tapes of previous Red Sox wins over NY, Ted knowing his father, Marty, wouldn’t remember them. In the end there is the end, Bucky f*cking Dent winning the AL pennant for the NYY with his home run over the green wall in the final game of the season.  By then, father and son have become reconciled.

It’s light reading, poignant and funny at times and a page turner, not that there is a lot of baseball therein, but I was very curious about how the novel would resolve and Duchovny writes good dialogue, almost like a screenplay, which, I recall, this novel started out as such.  As a baseball novel and as a noteworthy piece of literature, it pales next to Harbach’s The Art of Fielding.  Duchovny’s work is baseball “lite.”

But still, it’s my era and I’ll never forget that moment in Paris -- Ann and I happened to be there when the Sox and the Yankees faced off each other at Fenway on Oct 2, 1978.  Back then, no Internet, and needless to say no coverage of American baseball anywhere and so we had to await the next day’s edition of the International Herald Tribune to learn the glorious news of the Dent’s unexpected heroism, and at Fenway no less.  I remember Ann and I dancing in the streets of Paris, a strange sight, but Parisians take those things in stride: “ces Américains fous.”