Present Laughter at Main Street Theater

If there is alternative universe, is it too much to ask that it take place within a Noël Coward play? And, wouldn’t it be icing on the cake if you get a silk smoking jacket upon entrance? A martini would be nice too. Main Street Theater’s delicious production of Coward’s ode to his own life (weren’t they all?) Present Laughter, just makes you want to move in with these people. Back then, even whining was an art form.

Everybody loves Garry Essendine, the aging matinée idol, including Garry, of course. Although he’s concerned about his dimming light, others are drawn to him like pesky mosquitoes that he would just like to clobber. Women forget their latchkeys, a lovestruck playwright swarms about, his ex-wife doesn’t get the “ex” part. It’s just a dysfunctional zoo of witty people. He’s heading off to tour in Africa, but not before his inner circle gets a piece of him. It’s not easy being the treasured eternal “it” boy. As in most of Coward’s plays, nothing is really resolved, just narrowly escaped.

The cast—as tight as they come—is headed up by Joel Sandel, looking smashing at every turn in his tuxedo or new dressing jacket. (Why ever did those things go out of fashion?) Sandel inhabits the troubled star with ample charisma and self doubt, and shows a distinct flair for physical comedy. Terri Branda Carter is Monica Reed, Essendine’s sharp-tongued no-nonsense secretary. As the one leveled headed person in the pack, Carter is a hoot. Kara Greenberg as Liz, the forever caring ex-wife, is all sense and clever manipulation. Morgan McCarthy’s daffy Daphne Stillington plays the clueless ingénue with unbridled innocence. Sara Gaston conjures Jessica Rabbit in her Veronica Lake side-swept hair and crimson satin gown as Joanna Lyppiatt, the siren and seductress. David Harlan (Fred and Hugo Lyppiatt) and Sheryl Croix ( Miss Erikson and Lady Saltburn) deliver strong performances and add to the evening’s snap.

Claire Hart-Palumbo directs with a crisp hand letting the wit and banter rule with oddles of attention to sharp comic timing. Period costumes by Udden lend a post-war elegance and Meghan C. Hakes’ smart set looks and feels like an ideal habitat for this entertaining lot. What better way to head into the summer months than with a head full of Coward. Artistic Director Rebecca Greene Udden caps her not-a-misstep-in-sight season with one sparkling show. Now pass that martini.

-Nancy Wozny

Present Laughter continues at Main Street Theater until June 22. Call 713-524-6706.

DiverseWorks Dining Ad Hoc

As critics we often think too small, review too little, and too much of the same stuff. A few weekends ago, I cleaned my son’s college apartment. I really wish my fine and brilliant work had been reviewed. Why not? Which is why I recently traded my dance/ theater gig for a dinner party review. Here goes.

The Event: The Ad Hoc Dinner, is the brainchild of DiverseWorks big guns Sixto Wagan and Diane Barber. Both are think out-of-the-downtown loft types. Does art always have to happen at an opening or a performance? That’s thinking small and you already know what I think about that. Wagan and Barber have crafted an artful event. It gets better. Tasty food is involved.

The Setting: That amazingly colorful Victorian house (Aerosol Warfare) on Alabama overlooking 288. The house is now being used by DiverseWorks for these dinners and other commissioned projects. Artists are so good at using the things that others are not. Sitting on that porch you are literally dead center at the heart of planet transition.

The Art: You can’t really have an artful event without a featured artist. Melanie Crader transformed the dining room with three of her enchanting pieces. A giant white coaster with delicate scalloped edges formed the centerpiece for the room. Crader’s Buttercream Doily…I only keep the formal ones…later throwing them away…I realized that I was curating my trash…, was crafted from one of those doilies that your mother used to use. More fun was found by the bathroom with her wood piece of frilly underwear.

The Food: Chef David Gressman provided the food art, beginning with a Heirloom Tomato Gazpacho, Avocado, Marcona Almonds, followed by Duo of Wagyu Beef, Shortrib Ravioli, Creamed Spinach, Roasted Loin, a marvelous construction that included beef, a spinach filled trapezoidal ravioli floating on a sea of fresh peas. If I can get a “little dance critic does food” here for a moment, I would like to add that the whole piece de-constructed with splendid ease. The peas spilled when you tickled the ravioli, creating some exciting plate motion. Dessert cheeses followed. They were considerably more still. Then came a Chocolate Mint Icebox Cake with Mint Chip Icecream. The poor dessert did not have a chance to dance as it was eaten with great gusto. Had the ice cream been allowed to melt, I am certain it would have been a knock out performance. Gressman holds hopes of opening his own place, stay tuned on that. It will be a must-eat place. A tour of the garden illuminated by the speeding cars on 288 concluded the event.

The Company: All smart, young, handsome, industrious people, doing cool and necessary things with their lives.

The Future: Life is fluid in the artful event lane, when asked if there would another dinner, Barber quipped, “I don’t know, it’s ad hoc!”

Image: Melanie Crader, Buttercream Doily…I only keep the formal ones…later throwing them away…I realized that I was curating my trash…, 12″ x 12″, handcut enamel coated paper

Mr. Marmalade

Justin Doran in Mr. Marmalade
Photo by Bruce Bennett

Sitting through Noah Haidle's Mr. Marmalade this weekend brought me back to an experience I had in that very same theater some years ago when I took a field trip with a bunch of women and their children to see The Little Match Girl. Things start out pretty bad and get worse. Seeing horrible things happen to a child was too much to bear for the mini-vaned set and they ranted and raged all the way home. Ladies, you haven't seen nothin' yet.

To label Haidle's play a dark comedy is an odd choice of words. It's a freight train to the shadow side; an event horizon comedy that crashes full steam ahead into two myths which we hold sacred: that children do not have sexual imaginations, and that innocence is reliable. Haidle doesn't just shatter these holy truths, he throws a full-blown party. And for the most part, it's a hot-button taboo pouncing blast.

The story involves Lucy, a four-year old going on 40. She's a latchkey kid with an open door policy when it comes to the people that she lets live in her head. Mom's busy deciding what mini-skirt to wear and generally ignoring her child's welfare. Mr. Marmalade is her imaginary friend, useful for playing doctor, house, and cappuccino party. He's a tall, dashing, demonic, GQ Wall Street type with no time for Lucy. He pencils her in for a 2:00 brunch on Sunday but don't hold him to it. His assistant, Bradley, plays the Sancho part, delivering messages and getting increasingly pummeled by Mr. M's offstage brutality. At one point Bradley crawls on stage, drenched in blood and bandages, to deliver his master's latest missive. Mr. M promises Lucy a trip to Mexico too. Lucy, tired of being put off my her unreliable figment, goes off to play with a real kid, Larry, the five-year old suicide survivor next door. Mr. M gets jealous, threatens to rape Lucy when Larry enters to save the day. Haidle stuffs bucket loads of nastiness in his play. Bring 'em on is the spirit. Mr. M. has a coke problem, and later on a drinking one. Come to think of it, he is the problem adult to Lucy's problem child. God forbid such a horror would be dished up by pre-schooler.

The imagination is largely a feral and unruly place, free of morality, sense, and logic. You are not the boss of your unconscious. Haidle gets that part right. You only need to look to your last dream for evidence. As for what a four-year old is capable of imagining—it's best not to get too Piageted out here. It's a play, not psych 101. Still, there's little doubt that a child's imagination contains more than gum drops and velvet bunnies. Read William Golding's Lord of the Fies or watch Peter Weirs' Picnic at Hanging Rock. Who among us has not been creeped out by a kid? As for the sexualization of children, well all you need to do is check out the toy rack in your local Walmart to view the hooker dolls meant for tweens to see what's happening on that front. Or consider Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita, still banned on some parts of the planet.

The cast sinks their teeth into this absurd world with whole-hearted bravado. Mikelle Johnson captures the not quite in control of her body quality of a child. She flaps and hops in her bizarre tutu, completely transparent with her emotional flux. But it's in her raspy Lauren Becall voice that she is most disarming. Justin Doran's larger than life presence animates Mr. M in bold strokes. Exuding a raw physicality and a sinister charm, Doran inhabits this one-dimensional character with a devilish glee. Erik Hellman's awkward and hopelessly lonely Larry is cute and sexy, and doesn't that just make us squirm. Glen Philip and Lisa Thomas play a variety of supporting roles with ample vigor. Philip Lehl's Bradly is the one calm balm to the mayhem, a kind of counterbalance of the imagination.

Alex Harvey's direction plays up the groundlessness of the territory, straddling the wobbly edge between what's left of reality and the imagined world. Kirk Markley's suburban living room and projected artifacts amplify the fractured surface of Haidle's twisted universe. Projections of a little girl jumping in slow motion add a nostalgic note, casting a spell which is most often broken with some unexpected nonsensical action. The second act drags a bit, going in too many directions at once that derail the steam roller of a first act. In general, Haidle's shock heavy play suffers from case of the everything but the kitchen sink syndrome. This is a nothing solved everything stirred event. Haidle leaves no map to the dark regions he drags the willing to. You are on your own, people.

That said, bravo to Stages for risking upsetting the ranks. We should all get riled up at least once a season, and this is as troubling a play as any to do just that. If you are prone to queasiness, locate the exits and request an aisle seat. The play is not for the righteous who expect moral lessons on the side, more for those that enjoy a good solid kick out of the ballpark coma of complacency. I suggest watching with the same advice that the legendary troublemaker of depth psychology James Hillman uses in looking at dreams. Get on the elevator and press the “down” button.

But hey, hold that call to your therapist, the play ends on a perky note. Mr. M cheerily commits
Seppuku donning a snazzy kimono, Larry shows up asking Lucy to play dodge ball. She says yes. Bradly cuddles in the easy chair and gets the last word, or song, When that I was and a little tiny boy, from Twelfth Night to be exact. The tea party has ended, go in peace, puzzlement, or seething anger, whichever is your pleasure. The lights dim on Lehl's sweet and haunting voice, innocence curiously intact.

-Nancy Wozny

Green at Discovery Green

When Karen Stokes premiered Green at Barnevelder I was stranded in New York City with a bad case of the Jet Blues. Many months later I finally got the chance to see the whole piece. It reminded my of own wild child boys running in wide open spaces. So, of course ,I was so delighted to get to write about Green at Houston's newest park, Discovery Green. I have not returned to fly on Jet Blue.

May 14, 2008, 6:06PM
DANCE
Celebrating nature's wonders
Choreographer creates work that fits right in at park stage

By NANCY WOZNY
For The Chronicle

• When: 7 p.m. Friday

• Where: Discovery Green, 1500 McKinney, Anheuser-Busch Stage

• Admission: Free; for information, call 713-956-5333, www.discoverygreen.org or http://fresharts.org

GREEN AND THE COST OF LIVING

Imagine a dance that fits in with kids on bikes, squealing babies and people walking their dogs. Green, choreographer Karen Stokes' ode to the natural world, might be that dance.

Based on a bold, rhythmic score created by Stokes, the piece plays out in strokes broad enough to capture the attention of passers-by.

Which makes it a natural for Discovery Green, where it will be performed as part of the urban park's Fresh Fridays performing-arts series.

"The percussive drumming grabs people right away," Stokes said.

"Also, unison movement performed by a large group creates the kind of amplification necessary to read well from a distance."

The costumes, green striped shirts and snug head caps with little green balls, are also just zany enough to command a second look from a pedestrian strolling by.

Stokes, head of the dance department in the University of Houston School of Theatre and Dance, did not originally intend for Green to be performed outdoors.

But once she was well into creating the piece, she realized it centered on her connection to the natural world.

"As I was working on the dance, I got the idea of the color green, and my feelings about the environment and the vitality of the color green surfaced," Stokes said.

"The color is energetic and sassy. I also think it fits because Houston is such a green city."

Stokes, 47, is known for work that evokes a sense of place, such as Hometown, her homage to Houston.

Although the specific location of Green remains elusive, the dance gives the impression of being outside.

For example, the unpredictability of nature is represented in the second half of the work, which has a wild, Lord of the Flies flavor. Stokes inserts an edge of seriousness here.

"Even with everything that is happening with the greening of our society, there's a collective fear that the planet's future is out of our control," she said.

"Some of that unruliness plays out in the dance as an undercurrent."

Open-air dance beyond Miller Outdoor Theatre is rare in Houston, which is one reason it's a priority for Discovery Green programming director Susanne Theis.

"Dance is one of the most important art forms to present in the park. It is the universal language of movement in every culture around the globe. Being outside and experiencing the joy of moving freely is a big part of what we love about parks. Watching superb dancers at work is a logical extension," Theis said.

Green, which will be performed by Travesty Dance Group, Stokes' company, and the UH Dance Ensemble, will be followed at 8 p.m. by a screening of The Cost of Living, presented by the Aurora Picture Show. The 34-minute movie takes place in a seaside town where street performers David and Eddie struggle to find work and romance. The film incorporates sharp humor about the notions of how the fit and unfit are supposed to act.

The evening is presented in part by Fresh Arts Coalition, a nonprofit collaborative of small and midsize Houston arts organizations.

Ad Deum Dance Company

This piece in The Houston Chronicle is a result of many rich conversations with Randall Flinn on the subject of dance and faith. As a lapsed atheist (who knows what that is) I started with a good dose of suspicion and ended with a sense of respect. My gracious thanks to Flinn for being so available to help me understand his process.

LIBERA — THE JOY OF BELIEVING

Randall Flinn may have named his company Ad Deum, Latin for "To God," but don't expect his performances to feature choir-robed dancers re-enacting Bible stories. Flinn's combination of faith and choreography is much larger than that. "I create work from a biblical point of view, which encompasses a huge realm in the human experience," he explains.

"In fact, I consider the Bible itself to be a work of art."

Flinn, an ordained minister and 25-year member of Turning Point Ministries, keeps his churchgoing life and dance-making life separate, aside from an occasional Christmas show.

"I know that there are some ... that would find it a lot simpler to box the mission of Ad Deum into a certain classification, be it liturgical, evangelical or Christian art," Flinn says.

"The artist who believes in God should be making important contributions to the whole of life, not just a religious component."

Flinn's pieces resemble typical modern dances. Instead of Christian music, he prefers using popular, classical and world music. His dancers come from many religious traditions, including non-Christian ones.

"Often, dancers are drawn to us because of what we stand for," says Flinn, who formed Ad Deum in 2000. "But there's no specific denomination or church that we attend together."

Ad Deum member Bethany Brantley, who trained in a Christian dance studio in College Station, found a spiritual and artistic home in the company. "It's so rewarding for me to be able to express my beliefs through dancing," says Brantley, 19. "I am privileged to be able to dance pieces with these amazingly positive messages."

Flinn, 50, and his dancers do pray together. Group blessings start rehearsals. "We pray for family members, healing an injury, whatever is on our minds," Flinn says. The troupe also prays before it performs. "As an artist who believes in God, I also believe that the world is the stage that God sets before me to offer and serve with the gift that has been entrusted to me, which happens to be dance."

Flinn admits that religion and art can be a volatile mix. "In politics it's considered fair game to talk about your faith; in art, not so much," he says. "It's almost considered taboo in the art world to include your faith in the creative process."

Flinn, who cites many biblical references to artists and creativity, likes to remind people that art and religion have a long history together.

"J.S. Bach, one of the world's greatest artists, signed every composition with these words, 'solo deo gloria,' (to the glory of God). He saw himself as God's artistic servant, and he gave the world his blessing. That's what I hope to do as well," Flinn says.

REVIEW: One Spare Flea-Mildred's Umbrella

Bree Welch
Photo by Anthony Rathbun

One Flea Spare by Naomi Wallace is a deceptively powerful play. Houston-based indie troupe Mildred's Umbrella is known for mining strong material that fits into their cozy base at Midtown Arts Center.

It's the time of the plague in 17^th century London, and the pit is filling with the freshly dead and soon to be dead. Those left alive hole up together to either die or get lucky and survive. After all their servants die, Mr and Mrs Snelgrave have found themselves couped up in 28-day quarantine with a mischievous young girl, Morse, and a stoic sailor, Bunce. Mr. Snelgrave is a priggish brute of a man, caught up in the deception of class and rank. His wife, Darcy, has had much of her flesh burned away in a fire in a desperate attempt to save her horses. The smarmy Snelgrave hasn't touched her since. Morse, is an amoral sprite, half pixie, half demon child. There's not much to eat or do but wait to die a horrible painful death. Half way through, the tables turn, and Darcy, Morse, and Bunce gang up on old Snelgrave strapping him to his chair to wait out his impending death.

But really, this is a play about eroticism under the most unlikely circumstances. Snelgrave questions Bunce, the sailor, how he manages to stay sane without sex on a ship for long periods of time. In response, Bunce pierces an orange with Selgrave's finger and then sucks its juices. Bunce pines for Darcy, scars and all. They play out their love as best they can until she too succumbs to the “tokens.” Bunce tries to save her but she asks for death, which Morse cheerily delivers thanks to a handy knife.

Jennifer Decker's Darcy is a volcano ready to erupt. Mark Carrier projects an endearing directness as the dutiful sailor with a crush on the lady of the house. Greg Dean is perfectly repugnant as Snelgrave. Eric Doss plays Kabe, a creepy guard about the death pits with a foot fetish. Bree Welch is magical as Morse, the troubled angel of doom, and fully captures a spirit of unthinking innocence that dwells below the surface of Wallace's play.

Patricia Duran goes for a bare bones treatment, letting Wallace's ripe language move to the center, pushing the harsh drama closer than our comfort level. Wayne Barnhill and Ken Taylor's white vinegar-washed room serves as the spare setting. Although difficult to watch at times, you never fully want to turn away from this riveting production.

The strange child gets the last word in a haunting monologue. It's dreamy, poetic, and otherworldly, much like the terrain of Wallace's captivating play.

REVIEW: Dance Of Asian America: Easts Meets West

Miller Outdoor Theatre

April 26, 2008

A good-sized crowd gathered at Miller Outdoor Theatre to watch East Meets West, Dance of Asian America's (DAA) annual spring show. The East part included DAA and students from Mitsi Dancing School, while the West was represented by Ad Deum Dance Company, Revolve Dance Company , and Barbara King Dance Company. As a showcase event, this one went off splendidly. The evening clipped along at a steady pace, one piece right after another, displaying a healthy variety of dance forms. I left thinking that Chinese dance is larger than tossing fans and flying ribbons and that the East is not so far from the West. Modern dance contains influences from eastern forms, and DAA has a strong contemporary focus.

The mission of DAA is to present dances that represent China's diverse provinces and fuse contemporary dance with traditional forms. DAA selected pieces that represented the most contrast which included dances from Korea, Xing Jiang Province, and Tibet. Tong Rui Rui's jubilant Before the Storm demonstrated an engaging fusion between Chinese and contemporary dance forms. Solist Yifan Zheng danced with charisma, an amazingly supple back, and a marvelous flair with an umbrella. In colorful Himalayan garb, the DAA dancers stomped their feet and tossed their weight around in Tibetan Flares.

The disciplined students of Mitsi Dancing School danced works from Anhui and Yunnan (Miao Ethnicity) Provinces. Even when the fog machine went on high blast, these young dancers didn't miss a beat. Quite magically they reappeared with sunny smiles and perfect spacing.

Randall Flinn, artistic director of Ad Deum Dance Company, showed his lineage to classic modern dance in his new work, Walk of Promise, set to Clint Mansill's hypnotic score from the film The Fountain. Amada Parsons and Louis Harman, guest artists from Belhaven College, danced a tender duet. In Apology, Flinn draws Elton's John's soulful ode to the power of forgiveness, “Sorry seems to be the hardest word.” Eye-catching partnering characterized the duet elegantly danced by Shizu Yasuda and Alvin Rangel. Although Mighty Spirit looked derivative of Alvin Ailey, Rangel kept the crowd spellbound in his solo performance. Yasuda also lit up the stage in her solo, Penelope's Song, a work she also choreographed for the students of Mitsi Dancing School.

Revolve looked smokin' hot in their urban tap romp Mosquito's Tweeter, choreographed by Dawn and Matt Dippel and set to music by Nikka Costa. Matt Dippel's subtle style created a strong foil with the ensemble. Realm of Commonality, choreographed by Amy Cain to Yoshida Brothers' ambient music, brought a darker mood. The piece contained some sporadic bursts of clever movement but too many dead spots muddled the focus.

My only quibbles: Barbara King's Vegas style approach to ballroom seemed regretfully out of place; the program was missing choreography and music credits; a little more information for those of us not in the know about Chinese dance would have been appreciated; and the sound was too loud and distorted.

In these deeply divided times, leave it to the dancers to bring people (lots of them) together, and that they did at East Meets West. DAA should be commended for their outreach to the community and inclusion of Houston's modern dance community. It's a multicultural win/win for all.

Reprinted from Houston Dance Source