I had promised to post a few more photos of our trip There is already a plethora of photos in the
published entries, Part
I and Part
II, the ones I thought told the story best and of course most of my
favorites. But space precluded the
inclusion of some of the more idiosyncratic ones that have no particular thing
in common other than I like photographing doors, windows, different
architectural features, especially when they are evocative of place, passage of
time, displaying interesting shadows, and candid people shots. They are not in
chronological order but, rather, by city visited, and not all cities are
represented. Best way to breeze through these is to click onto the first one and keep on clicking at the bottom where all the photos are in a line ....
Monday, October 14, 2013
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Of Mice and Men -- Dramaworks' Bold Production
Robert Burns: The best
laid schemes of mice and men / Go often awry
I say "bold" in the subject heading but I could
have easily said "daring."
It's not the type of drama which some people seek out. It is delivered with such intensity that some
moments land on the audience like a sledgehammer. But if any play suits Dramaworks to a tee,
it's Of Mice and Men, a play about
simple dreams dashed by chance and circumstances, the inherent vulnerability of
characters who are striving for the basic things in life, a place to live and
some security. Dramaworks knows how to pick great dramas of this nature and breathe
life into them.
Of Mice and Men is
among one of Steinbeck's greatest works, not as famous as Grapes and Wrath or East of
Eden of course, but it's a novella consisting almost entirely of
dialogue. It reads like a play and it
sweeps the reader along into its inevitable, tragic conclusions. Steinbeck designed it as such --- to convert
it to a play. Reading stories such as Of Mice
and Men, where the characters are "acting out" the themes of the
work through dialog and their actions, gives it that unique momentum, unlike
more descriptive literary works. Seeing
it live on stage pushes you to deeply empathize with real people, as if you are
transported to their time, place, and circumstance.
There are not many plays more painful to watch in my
opinion, because nearly every character is so seriously flawed, and so on his /
her road to ruin. Alas, "the best
laid schemes....often go awry." On
a macro level, the setting of the dust bowl migration leaves them even more at
risk. These are migratory workers in the
field, set in a ranch in California not far from Steinbeck's home town. Here is society's most vulnerable stratum,
and it is their inherent loneliness as migrant workers and their unreachable
dreams that are laid threadbare in this production
It takes a certain ear to capture real dialogue, and as Steinbeck
himself grew up in Salinas, California during those times, and spent some time
on ranches with migrant workers, he is a master, and if you see this play and/or
read the novella, this is something to be appreciated, savored, as it is a
language that almost manifests the hardship, the loneliness, and the ill-fated
destiny of the characters. Ironically, the language itself catapulted the book
onto censorship lists, especially when first published, but probably in some
sections of the country, it is still not taught.
It is also a work about friendship and trust, a unique,
almost symbiotic relationship between two men.
They rely on one another, George the orchestrator of their lives (or
whatever modicum of control he has) and Lennie, a quiet innocent giant of limited
mental capacity dependent on what George says and the dreams that George spins
to keep them both going.
George: Guys like us,
that work on ranches, are the loneliest guys in the world. They got no fambly.
They don’t belong no place. They come to a ranch an’ work up a stake and then
they go into town and blow their stake, and the first thing you know they’re
poundin’ their tail on some other ranch. They ain’t got nothing to look ahead
to.
Lennie:. That’s
it—that’s it. Now tell how it is with us.
George: With us it ain’t
like that. We got a future. We got somebody to talk to that gives a damn about
us. We don’t have to sit-in no bar room blowin’ in our jack jus’ because we got
no place else to go. If them other guys gets in jail they can rot for all
anybody gives a damn. But not us.
Lennie: But not us!
An’ why? Because . . . . because I got you to look after me, and you got me to
look after you, and that’s why.
In trying to explain their relationship to Slim, the mule
driver, perhaps the most "normal" person on the ranch, George says
the following, indicating to Lennie with this thumb: He ain’t bright. Hell of a good worker, though. Hell of a nice fella,
but he ain’t bright. I’ve knew him for a long time.
To which Slim replies, Ain’t
many guys travel around together. I
don’t know why. Maybe ever’body in the whole damn world is scared of each other.
George and Lennie's dreams are just that simple: "Jus livin offa the fatta the lan" with
Lennie tending to the rabbits. It is the American Dream at its most basic. A place to live, a little happiness? This a
leitmotif in the play.
Crooks, the black stable hand, knows a thing or two about
being lonely and ostracized, and recognizes in Lennie a somewhat kindred spirit. More foreshadowing as he says to Lennie: I seen hunderds of men come by on the road
an’ on the ranches, with their bindles on their back an’ that same damn thing
in their heads. Hunderds of them. They come, an’ they quit an’ go on; an’ every
damn one of ‘em’s got a little piece of land in his head. An’ never a God damn
one of ‘em ever gets it. Just like heaven. Ever’body wants a little piece of lan’.
I read plenty of books out here. Nobody never gets to heaven, and nobody gets
no land. It’s just in their head. They’re all the time talkin’ about it, but
it’s jus’ in their head.
One of the catalysts in bringing the play towards its dark conclusion
is the one truly unlikeable character, Curley, the "The Bossman's"
son, constantly needing to prove himself, incredibly possessive of but inattentive
to his new wife (unnamed in the play, an interesting subliminal message about
Steinbeck's attitude towards women - or at least their place in the play). Candy, the aging worker who is now confined
to the most menial tasks around the ranch warns George and Lennie: Curley’s like alot of little guys. He
hates big guys. He’s alla time picking scraps with big guys. Kind of like he’s
mad at ‘em because he ain’t a big guy. You seen little guys like that, ain’t
you? Always scrappy?
George: I seen plenty
tough little guys. But this Curley better not make no mistakes about Lennie.
Lennie ain’t handy, but this Curley punk is gonna get hurt if he messes around
with Lennie.
Candy: Well, Curley’s
pretty handy. “Never did seem right to me. S’pose Curley jumps a big guy an’
licks him. Ever’body says what a game guy Curley is. And s’pose he does the
same thing and gets licked. Then ever’body says the big guy oughtta pick
somebody his own size, and maybe they gang up on the big guy. Never did seem
right to me. Seems like Curley ain’t givin’ nobody a chance.”
There are no chances for Lennie and George's simple dream to
become a reality (and for Candy as well, who wants to be included). The final catalyst is Curley's wife, who is generally
regarded as a slut by the ranch hands, but nevertheless dreams of becoming a
movie star, and is the ideal magnet to draw Lennie (and herself) into the
play's inevitable conclusion. I'll not
quote it here but in the second act, Curly's wife and Lennie "talk" to
each other, expressing their hopeless dreams, but neither are capable of
listening to the other. It is a conversation
entirely in counterpoint.
This was an absolutely perfect script for J. Barry Lewis,
the veteran, knowledgeable, Resident Director of Dramaworks, to bring out the
themes of this play by maximizing the superb talents of his actors and
utilizing the 'state of the art' stage now available in their new space. It is truly the ideal designed theatre for
both sides of the fourth wall, bringing the audience into the performance.
Here is the information from the Dramaworks' web site, just
so I get all the names right:
Palm Beach Dramaworks’
production is directed by J. Barry Lewis and features John Leonard Thompson
(George), Brendan Titley (Lennie), Paul Bodie, Cliff Burgess, Frank Converse,
Dennis Creaghan, Betsy Graver, Christopher Halladay, Wayne Steadman, and Ricky
Waugh. Scenic design is by Michael Amico, costume design by Leslye Menshouse,
lighting design by John Hall, and sound design by Matt Corey.
Many of these artists are veteran Dramaworks' actors or
technical people. All are at the top of
their game in this production so it is hard to single out comments on one each,
but I'll make a few points.
First and foremost John Leonard Thompson carries a heavy
load in the play, being on stage most of the time, playing George with a focused
intensity, trying to manage Lennie and keep him out of trouble, keep the dream
intact and attempt to fit into the ranch and keep their jobs and at the same
time keep their plans secret (unsuccessfully as Candy becomes part of the
hopeless scheme and even Crooks tries to join in). And of course trying to avoid the inevitable
conclusion of the play, so shocking, even though most in the audience (I hope
at least) knew how it would end. It is a
part demanding such energy (and ability to memorize massive regional dialogue)
so hats off to him.
Brendan Titley is one of the newcomers to Dramaworks, a
young but experienced Shakespearean actor who does a heartfelt job portraying
Lennie -- a difficult part to play but he always manages to secure the empathy
of the audience
An award-winning supporting performance is given by Dennis Creaghan,
an absolutely perfect depiction of the old rancher, Candy, whose beloved old dog
has just been shot to put him out of his misery. He fears that he too has become too old and useless
and knows that his time at the ranch will be at an end sooner than later. He is irresistibly drawn to the scheme of sharing
in George and Lennie's dream of owning a small ranch which he can help them
realize (he was given a small amount of money as compensation from an accident
that severed his hand).
I loved Cliff Burgess's characterization of Slim, the one
person who seems to have reconciled himself to his job on the ranch, goes about
his business in an upbeat way -- a fair-minded person. His presence on the stage and the way Burgess
comports himself in the part was always a relief, lessening the heavy tension
on stage for a moment or two.
W. Paul Bodie is ideal as Crooks, the stable hand, who
actually has his own room -- he's not allowed to play cards with the other boys
or even enter the bunk house because he is black. He's resentful about that, but ironically, he
has something none of the other workers have, his own place. Crooks accepts his lot in life on the one
hand and is angry on the other, Bodie expressing that contradiction perfectly.
Curley's wife is admirably played by Betsy Graver and while
she is not on stage that often, she creates a contrast to the bland monolithic
"colors" of the workers.
Simply, she lights up the stage with her seductive looks and dress, a
femme fatale in every sense of the term.
The remaining cast members give professional performances in
every way, but one last comment on the acting, and that is the brief, but
powerful role of "The Boss" by one of the stage's (and movie and TV)
most experienced actors, Frank Converse.
He is larger than life while on stage.
Coincidentally we have a geographic connection as he lives in Weston, CT
(where we lived for some 25 years) and were fortunate to see him in some
productions at the Westport Country Playhouse over the years.
Michael Amico uses representative design, with one major set
-- sort of a Tabula rasa with added extras to effectively portray a sandy bank
on the Salinas River, the ranch bunkhouse, the barn, and the stable hand's room. There is actually a hatch that opens on the
stage floor filled with water to represent a river and along with the sound
effects and lighting, the audience is drawn into the image and supplies the
"rest" allowing the characters to do the storytelling. His designs always seem to be exactly the
right one for the play, difficult to construct after being properly imagined.
Leslye Menshouse's costumes were designed right out of the Sears,
Roebuck catalogues for the times -- probably where the characters would have
bought their clothing, and then underwent serious "distressing" to
reflect the years of hard labor and the few clothing changes men of the fields
wore. They had the look of the WPA
photographs from the dust bowl migration.
Lighting shifts are numerous and dramatically effective,
using the stage design to its greatest advantage and well coordinated with myriad
sound effects, of wildlife, dogs howling in the distance, of men outside the
barn, horseshoes thudding and making ringers.
This is a major production, and in the intimate Dramaworks' surroundings,
the audience becomes part of the tragic events that unfold, but also --
hopefully -- with the sense that we all share, as human beings -- the same
feelings, wanting to be connected (and I don't mean Facebook) with others. Nonetheless, some will see this production as
dark, very dark, and in many ways it is that too, but Steinbeck (and
Dramaworks) are striving for a more empathetic appreciation of universal human needs. A play not to be missed.
Labels:
American Dream,
Dramaworks,
John Steinbeck,
Of Mice and Men,
Theater
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Catch 22 in Washington
What is one supposed to expect from Washington nowadays
other than a Kafkaesque response to communication? Of the several emails I recently sent
concerning the government shutdown and the debt crisis, my favorite exchange
was with U.S. Senator Marco Rubio's office. Here's mine which I tried to keep
brief and to the point:
To use the shutdown of
the government and, far worse, the possible default on our debt as a hostage
for repealing a law that has already been passed, adjudicated, is the worst
kind of governing I can imagine and I blame this on the Republican Party,
particularly the fringe elements, a Party I used to admire. This kind of
brinksmanship reminds me of the Cuban Missile crisis, but being played out with
the full faith and credit of our country as the A bomb (I lived in NYC then and
remember the anxiety clearly). Why not
deal with the weaknesses of the Affordable Care Act (which is the proper name,
not Obamacare) when they become evident during its implication? It makes me
furious at my representatives and apprehensive for this country
One minute later, I got the following response:
Thank you for taking
the time to contact me, please be advised due to the government shutdown, my
office is currently closed. My office will respond to your concerns or resume
work on your case as soon as the office reopens. In the interim, if you would
like to leave a comment for me, you may still do so at 1-866-630-7106 (within
Florida) or 202-224-3041.
Sincerely,
U.S. Senator Marco
Rubio
Thus, I first called the Florida number, and it was
busy. So I called the Washington number
and got one of those happy, professional recordings, one option was to leave a
message concerning any legislative matters.
So, that is the option I chose.
Then, even a more friendly voice responded, I'm
sorry, that mailbox is full. Goodbye.
The end. ∞
PS When I wrote this entry, I had no idea that practically
concurrently President Obama was calling the failure to raise the debt ceiling
an economic "nuclear bomb." Amen
to that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)