A Magical Storm

by Marguerite Saxton

A bed, bathed in violet blacklight, hovers. It serves as a token to magical realism. This type of storytelling doesn’t do the work for you. Instead, it allows you to engage with the magic and the real for yourself. For those not familiar with the term, magical realism is an artistic genre in which fantastic elements appear in an otherwise hyper-realistic setting. Though authors and artists worldwide incorporate it in their work, it is strongly associated with Latin American literature and art. High-profile examples include Julie Taymor’s film Frida and Gabriel García Márquez’s novel One Hundred Years of Solitude. Cloud Tectonics, written by José Rivera and here directed by Bryan Rafael Falcón, features a rare-for-Tucson glimpse into this type of surreality.  

Azúl Galindo as Celestina del Sol. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Azúl Galindo as Celestina del Sol. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

From the moment the female protagonist Celestina del Sol, played by Azúl Galindo, appears, we feel the uncommon nature of this play.  We meet her in the bizarre madness of a Los Angeles typhoon. She, a wandering woman with a pretty obvious predicament, lucks out with a ride from the benevolent but emotionally wounded Aníbal, played by Marc Pinate.  What develops is a swirling layer cake of happenings. 

If you want simplicity, this isn’t your show. Don’t expect answers — you may leave confused. But isn’t that fun? Well, I enjoy that kind of story. 

See, without linear explanations in the way, the eccentric stray thoughts of people have more space to solidify blurred edges of this tale.  The performance has an overall disorienting feeling due in part to the innate quirks of these characters. But more so, Galindo’s cadence is markedly off-beat and this lends to a strange affect. Her chemistry with Pinate’s character is odd yet, one has to ask, is this by design? Is this a byproduct of the phenomena of forced intimacy in surreal romantic plots or could it be related to our basic perception of time, how it folds upon itself, how it shape-shifts in our memory? Does the macho superego of Aníbel’s brother Nelson, played by Cole Potwardowski, have to be so antagonistic; does all of the affection have to be so extreme in order for us to get the playwright’s intent? And most pressing, who/what is Celestina? Well, you choose.  

Between long spaces of silence are welcomed interjections of TV static and radio noise.  Touches of absurdity in minor key tones and tinny vignettes projected into vintage microphones help us realize that time has become irrelevant. As one watches this performance they may ponder their geography as an audience member, where the characters have gone, and whether it even matters.

The silent, rhythmic set assemblages add a subtle homage to magic. Between scenes, amongst muted blue light, two technicians move in unison like otherworldly helpers. They float throughout the set, rearranging elements in order to bring new life to the stage. In one particularly moving moment they methodically disassemble the house — and one cannot help but extend the metaphor further: the dissolution of a home – the breaking of a heart -the haunting in one’s head. Their eerie presence accompanied by the sustained raindrops and shaking thunder claps gives the illusion of a controlled chaos; that it is indeed, much crazier “out there”. 

There are some links to grander, worldwide issues and if one is willing, they may sense a commentary on sanity, the well-being of young women, and how a culture’s relationship to time has major implications on its people. But trying to keep up with the who, what, and when of this production is complicated. The unique and pleasing challenge of Cloud Tectonics is allowing oneself to embrace the ambiguity of it all. As Celestina says, “Time and I don’t hang out together.”

Cloud Tectonics runs from November 21st through December 8th at the Scoundrel & Scamp Theater, located at 738 N. 5th Avenue. Tickets can be purchased by calling (520) 448-3300 or visiting https://scoundrelandscamp.org.

The Little Prince is Pure Magic

by Chloe Loos

The Little Prince is my favorite book. When I was a little girl, my mother introduced me to the world of the enigmatic prince and all the characters he meets throughout his travels of the universe. I didn’t, as most children don’t, quite grasp the eternal life lessons this book has granted me. As I’ve grown, I find myself drawn to quotes from the book that give me clarity. Many of us likely have a similar bond with Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s 1943 novel. Entering the star-strung set, all of my nostalgia came to light.

Kate Cannon (middle) as The Aviator with Julia Balestracci (left), Gretchen Wirges (right), and Lance Guzman (bottom). Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Kate Cannon (middle) as The Aviator with Julia Balestracci (left), Gretchen Wirges (right), and Lance Guzman (bottom). Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

The Scoundrel & Scamp’s adaptation of the novel, translated by Claire Marie Mannle, and adapted and directed by Holly Griffith, delivers everything I so love about this book. I can’t remember the last time that I was so enthralled with a piece of theatre. It’s magical, it’s beautiful, it’s funny, it’s poignantly sad, and every line is filled with deep truths and wisdom. It is in this space that we hear big truths from the little voices of both the prince both on stage and the one within us.

Cole Potwardowski as The Lamp Lighter and Ryuto Adamson as The Fox. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Cole Potwardowski as The Lamp Lighter and Ryuto Adamson as The Fox. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

The ensemble cast, led by Kathleen Cannon as The Aviator, glided through this piece of work with grace. Attention was directed and kept so well; I would be so caught up in a performance that I wouldn’t notice the utter magic happening on stage until they reminded me to look for it. While every single performer had moments where they either made me laugh or sometimes brought me to tears – sometimes at the same time – special shout out to Gabriella de Brequet’s performance of the Rose, Cole Potwardowski as The Lamplighter, Ryuto Adamson as The Fox, and each one of Gretchen Wirges’ many characters. The ensemble was so strong and so striking in the physical, vocal, and character work that I sometimes forgot this wasn’t a cast of 30.

The performers navigated the tonal shifts and transitions with beauty and were strongly supported by music director Feliz Torralba. Torralba’s playing underscored multiple moments to the point that she and the music felt like another member of the ensemble. Her strong use of musical motifs helped us journey through the plot and tethered us to characters and emotions felt by the characters on stage and the audience.

In addition, the stagecraft was truly out of this world. The set featured a revolving platform and twinkles of starlight, supported by the incredible lighting (Raulie Martinez) which took us from day to night through sunrises, sunsets, dusk, and twilight. The props were childlike and simple but imbued with a sense of playful awe. No wonder we adults still go to the theatre. Kids go, too. I stayed for the talk back and a little boy, no more than 8, asked a question about what The Prince did after the end of the story, to which Griffith noted was the same sort of question the aviator would ask. This shows that the work we choose to do, as theatre makers, matters. By allowing a space to wonder, to hope, to welcome, the art done impacts hearts and minds of all ages.

Finally, I can’t remember seeing a production this diverse in a long time. Out of nine on-stage bodies, there were six women, half of whom were women of color, and three men, none of whom were white. The creative team was primarily made up of women as well. The variety of performers in this production reminds us that there is so much space for love, acceptance, and voices, if we only let them on stage. Through The Little Prince, those of us in the audience, especially those tired or excluded by lack of representation are reminded, simply, that this story is for all of us.

The Little Prince runs through Sunday, November 3rd at The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre. Tickets may be purchased online at scoundrelandscamp.org, by calling the box office at (520) 448-3300, or in-person an hour prior to the show.

The Nexus Between Life and Death Will Always Be Found in Nature

by guest reviewer Richard Thompson

The nexus between life and death will always be found in nature. It’s only natural. It’s not just the sounds of innocent children’s laughter and birds chirping in the prelude or the cacophony of jungle beasts making feral noises when finding a seat in the auditorium of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre. Life abound is felt; nature is imbibed. Yet, these stages in life wouldn’t tell the complete story of nature without the aged glass cases that stood as sad celebrity sarcophaguses to dead beetles, moths, and scorpions. And in the end, the production Herman: The Naturalist takes us through every facet of life and death, only to be reborn. With a nice red radio to boot.

Grant Bashore in Herman: The Naturalist. Photo courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Grant Bashore in Herman: The Naturalist. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Inspired by stories learned of his family’s past, Grant Bashore takes on all aspects of nature and life inextricably tied to us through a series of narratives between individuals. The story begins far in the future, introducing us as an alien research team approaching a now mostly decimated earth where the hope and folly of humanity are explained through the lasting words of a mysterious school-bus-turned-museum owner who may or may not have made it out of Guatemala in the mid-1900s. I’ll let you take that in.

Bashore takes the performing lead and transforms into each of the five characters with such distinction that each character seemed to be performed by a different actor. T, the alien captain and leader to the audience, provides the setting, tells us why we are here, and where we are going. He uses a finely tuned mix of audience recognition, without audience engagement, that provides smooth transition between scenes and, when questions are asked of us they are both rhetorical and answerable.  

Grant Bashore as T. Photo courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Grant Bashore as T. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

The family members of the now worshipped title character Herman retain a 20th-century Midwestern tint and are represented in reenacted interviews discussing how each member is facing the reality that a family member may be gone. “Dead” seems to be too hard a word to say. No one wants to acknowledge death, but even as the words try to slip out of Stewart, Herman’s older, stoic brother, even he couldn’t recognize the truth he knows inside.

As these various narratives are told, Bashore utilizes familiar forms of communication for both humor and introspection. From faded interviews, real reenactments, memories, and musical interludes integrated with contemporary movements highly influenced through Stanislavskyian form, his skills of blending mime and spoken word provide layers of emotion and meaning to even the subtlest of movements. It’s this physicality that elevates this theatrical art form.

Staged and choreographed with Rick Warner, Bashore dominates the stage with an undeniable physicality. Trained in active analysis his mastery of phsycophysicality through proprioception provides a performance that exemplifies a true understanding of decision and gesture that elevates methods of physicality and movement in the performing arts. At each moment, the audience can see the inception of a character’s motivation, extending into the decision each of these people make before they even decide to react. It’s a testament to his ability to transform into… anything on the stage. Fingertips turn to raindrops, palms and forearms turn to oceanic life, and even a low-rhythmic bounce of a worn-out bus as its fatigued drivers prepares to move on.

This storytelling could not be done without the deft management behind the production’s light and sound design. Lighting Designer, Lawrence Ware, along with Bashore, devised an integration of extreme opposites in light and dark that will both comfort and confuse the audience. While keeping with pure whites and blacks, Ware also infused many moments with deep reddish hues that feel like death is the only recourse, while breathing a sense of relief back into the scene with a variety of blues that fend off the plight brought from the ominous reds.

Much of the production relies on sounds, music, and auditory effects (created by Bashore and Assistant Sound Designer Christopher Hill). The amazing use of engine noise, sound skips, and instrumental pieces heighten the visuals on stage. The set design was minimalist with the exception of an old burgundy radio that was resting on its side, allowing for Bashore to provide the world we would be envisioning. This minimalism is stretched to most of the costuming, but it needs to be noted that Costume Seamstress Callie Hutchison was able to weave an impressive collection of outfits that touch science-fiction sensibilities while retaining its foundation in the world without taking us out of the story of a man named Herman.

This minimalism extends to a lack of women in the cast. While the FireFly Gang comprises of an up and coming actress already showing stage presence (Willow Falcón), the majority of women’s influence in the piece is relegated to off-stage roles. 

It can hardly be surprising that a one-man physical performance would have very few mentions of women, and even more difficulty in properly representing the opposite sex without it turning into an absurd – or thoughtless – characterization, as opposed to a relatable character. However, there are no words that properly illustrate the haunting transition of voice when Bashore is reading journal entry as Florence, only to transform into Herman himself as he is writing the excerpt she is reading. There are not enough tissues to prepare one for that. 

Herman: The Naturalist asks the audience to accept the entirety of nature. We can’t float through life like the children at the prelude (Marco Amoroso, Sebastian Falcón, Willow Falcón), run away from life and its expectations like Herman’s father, ignore and deflect our personal hurt like Florence, or just pretend it’s all okay, like Herman did. We have to hope. Hope for life. Hope for ourselves. Hope for others. Hope for something more than us. And maybe, even, hope for a run-down school bus turned into a museum by a man named Herman.

Herman: The Naturalist runs through Friday, October 11 at The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre. Tickets may be purchased online at scoundrelandscamp.org, by calling the box office at (520) 448-3300, or in-person an hour prior to the show.

 

About the guest reviewer:
Richard Thompson

Richard Thompson (Actor) was born in Kokomo, Indiana. He has no relevant education from any formal institution in theater or film. His writing career comprises of columnist work for The Arizona Daily Star, editor for Persona Magazine, content creator of Looking Back manuscript for P.C.C., Sandscript Magazine contributor, and editor and columnist for Gourmet News for which he received a James Beard nomination for his article, “Holy See-Food”. He is also a Hearst Poet and a published IEEE author (2018-2019), as well as a technical writer whose proposals, grants and speeches have totaled in over $250k in gained between 2016 to now. Since 2017, The Community Players produced his stage play, Last Call, followed by performances in No Admittance (Bill Bowen) and One Flew Over a Cuckoo’s Nest (Chief), numerous Radio Theater shows, backstage crew for ‘Shakespeare in the Park’ (A Midsummer’s Night Dream) as well as multiple roles in musical shows. In 2018, he worked under Eugenia Wood in Hark, with Ron Athey, Cassils, and Arshia Fatima in Cyclic, and produced his original manuscript The GRANDest Pageant. Films include RiseThe Righteous Twelve, and The GRANDest Pageant. In 2019, he founded Graveyard Production Company (www.gyproco.com) and will perform Exist.

Old and New Favorite Stories This Season at The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre

Editor’s Note: This is the tenth in a series of interviews with creative decision makers and artistic directors at all of Tucson’s theatres as we look forward to the 2019-2020 season.

Building empathy and expanding what tribe means to us, one show at a time, with Bryan Falcón.

by Leigh Moyer

ScoundrelType_529_Black-01.pngWhat makes a Scoundrel & Scamp show? Well, according to Artistic and Co-managing Director Bryan Falcón: “At the heart there’s really the question of does the show have a mixture of heart and mind? Does it have a sense of mystery to it? Is there a little touch of whimsy? And is there duende that’s living underneath the surface?”

For those of you like myself who are unfamiliar with duende, it’s a figure from Latin American fairy tales: a mischievous spirit that lives in the walls of homes. While the term might be new to some of us, those familiar with the shows that The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre produces will recognize it immediately. Not all their shows have spirits, but they do tend to have a personality of their own, an extra life beneath the surface, changing what seemed like a straightforward story into something else.

That  layered depth is alive and well in their first production, The Little Prince. A crashed aviator is confronted by a young prince exploring nearby worlds, and, with the innocence of a child, questions and ridicules the strange habits and priorities of adults. The Scoundrel & Scamp version aims to ask a classic loved by generations some of the same questions. Upsetting expectations, like taking traditional gender expectations and casting roles like the Aviator as a woman, intend to ask the questions of why things have been done one way and not another and, hopefully, answer them skillfully.

Falcón gushed about all the plays this season, about the mystery and joy he hopes each of them bring audiences, but one stands apart from the group: “In Cloud Tectonics there’s a search for who we are. It is a story that is near and dear to me. It’s a beautiful love story set against the backdrop of magical realism. A man living a mundane life, separated from the passions that filled him when he was young. It is his journey to look for the things that made him who he is and doing so through remembering Spanish and remembering the foods of his youth. These are things that speak to me as a Latin artist growing up in the United States.”

He continued, “I think border issues are on my mind a lot these days and the weight of our tendency to ‘other’ people. A lot of othering comes from a struggle to find our own people. We are hungry for an identity, something that we can believe in, that we feel is good and upright. And it’s so important for Tucsonans to be in tune with. How do we go through that process of finding what’s important to us, what gives us passion, what gives us reason to live? Cloud Tectonics is a really good story for our community today.”

Much of what he spoke about wasn’t about the content of the plays, but the issues he hopes they bring to light — namely, the issues of hate, intolerance, and a lack of basic empathy for others — and the conversations he hopes they will spark in audiences. Beyond border issues, the political climate of 2019 is on Falcón’s mind and that concern makes itself known in the productions to which he is drawn. 

“I think that’s interesting, tracking how our society has changed in the course of the last three years. And there’s a lot of argument to say it has changed recently, right? But in other ways, at a basic level, we haven’t changed a lot. It feels like we are inclined as a society to draw boxes around identities and say this is our tribe and we are going to just cheer for our tribe and just tear down the other tribe as much as we possibly can. And I feel that now it’s just as important, if not even more acute, that we set up situations where that conversation can happen across the table in the lobby of a theatre or in a talkback session where you can start to feel, to step into the identities of other people, start to understand what it is that hurts them, what is it that fires them up and makes them passionate. And start to have empathy so we can real conversations instead of pointing fingers at each other and labeling them bad people.”

Empathy is key, not just in this conversation, but in the mission statement of the theatre. Falcón stressed that showing a variety of voices and viewpoints was the foundation of each season. It can be challenging, he admitted, as the history of play-writing does not always lend itself to telling stories outside of a certain sphere. But that is where he and the Scoundrel & Scamp creative team, which includes Elizabeth Falcón and Claire Mannle, come in. He explained that he might find a season he is excited and passionate about, but then realize it all comes from one perspective. And when that happens, he says, “We scrap it and begin again. It takes a lot of time and effort but it is so important to our identity as a theatre company to have that sense of diversity and multiple lenses for those coming to see a play.”

The cast of the 2018-2019 season production of This Girl Laughs, This Girl Cries, This Girl Does Nothing. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

The cast of the 2018-2019 season production of This Girl Laughs, This Girl Cries, This Girl Does Nothing. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Falcon seems to see his role as artistic director as a humanistic duty or community obligation. “We’re really in the business of growing empathy for others through addressing concerns of the heart. We want to explore themes of race and tribe and gender and push the boundaries of what all things mean to us. And the theatre is one of the few art forms if not the artform that allows you to step into other people’s skin for a time and in doing so learn empathy. Theatre is a way to change hearts. I borrowed that, that isn’t my quote, but I heard it and it stuck with me.”

Their season contains both plays “for Scoundrels” (usually recommended for those in high school and up) and “for Scamps” (theatre to be enjoyed by audiences of any age), The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre is working to bring theatrical inclusivity to as many people as possible, regardless of age or background. “Part of our mission is to introduce the next generation to theatre,” Falcón explained. “Part of that is by providing theatre that families can come to with some sense of security that is is going to be a good experience for all involved, work that will hook people no matter their age. And there are some things we want to talk about of a darker or more adult nature and that is our season for Scoundrels.”

You can learn more about the whole season below or on their website. Individual tickets are available before the run of each show begins but season tickets are on sale now. This season they are also introducing a new way to consume (and I really think that is the best descriptor) theatre: The Scoundrel Society. As a member, you can watch any show as many times as you like. Entrance to other events like the new Late Night with Scoundrels cabaret and more intimate conversations with creatives and invitations to parties are also promised. Plus, you get a cool mug.

The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre’s 2019 – 2020 Season:

The Little Prince, adapted by Holly Griffith from the novel by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, directed by Holly Griffith
October 17 – November 3, 2019
“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”An aviator crashes his plane into the Sahara desert and encounters a mysterious little prince from a distant planet. The two strangers, each far from home, share adventures and become friends. A new ensemble-based, physical theatre adaptation of the beloved classic story for children and grown ups who can remember that they were children once. 

Cloud Tectonics, by José Rivera, directed by Bryan Rafael Falcón
November 21 – December 8, 2019
“What better way to understand a mystery than to fall in love with it?”
On a rainy night in Los Angeles, a man picks up a pregnant hitchhiker to help her find her way home and time suddenly stops. Realism and magical realism collide in Rivera’s dreamlike world where two souls unexpectedly cross paths.

The Light Princess, book by Lila Rose Kaplan, music by Mike Pettry, directed by Michelle Milne
February 6 – 23, 2020
“A princess needs to find her ground so goodness can prevail, everyone needs something they can call their fairy tale.”
In this musical adapted from George MacDonald’s fairy tale, a king and queen are desperate to have a child. They turn to a witch for a solution, but “there is always a price.” Their daughter is born without gravity and must find it before her 16th birthday or else… Wise men, witches, princes all attempt to come to the rescue. This enchanting musical comedy is a Valentine for the whole family, appropriate for Scoundrels and Scamps alike.

Ada and The Engine, by Lauren Gunderson, directed by Bryan Rafael Falcón
March 26 – April 12, 2020
Ada Byron Lovelace is the woman you didn’t know to thank for our digital age. Although her dear friend Charles Babbage conceived the first “analytical engine” or proto-computer, she wrote and published the first program for it, an algorithm designed to be carried out by a machine. As she comes of age with a stern mother and in the shadow of a scandalous father, we see her brilliance in conflict with 19th century conventions. Genius knows no gender.

Letter’s End, by Wolfe Bowart
May 15 – 31, 2020
Wolfe Bowart (Cloud Soup, U.S. Premiere) triumphantly returns to the S&S stage with his unique solo physical comedy. On his inspiration for Letter’s End, Bowart says “I’ve always been interested in memory – how at times it tumbles out like Fibber McGee’s closet and other times seems elusive, stuffed away in an old package in the attic. The story begins with a man inhabiting a slightly off-kilter dead letter office, but then becomes something altogether unexpected. Ultimately a wondrous and poignant journey down a most magical memory lane, where mops sneeze and storks swoop in bearing gifts and trees grow out of shoes, Bowart’s performance inspired Canberra critic Wendy Brazil to remark “you will be mesmerized … he will make you laugh, he will make you sigh, and and you will be enchanted by his every move.”

Late Night With Scoundrels

The second Friday of the month at 10:30pm
A Late Night cabaret experience – sixty minutes of the best variety that Tucson has to offer! Explore the many skills and talents the artists of our community possess in this unique experience to 4th Avenue and the Tucson Community. Acting! Song! Dance! Standup! The Physical. The Metaphysical! …and Puppetry! Now something completely different for your Friday night. The first Late Night with Scoundrels will be held on September 13th.

 

Editor’s Note: Leigh Moyer is the resident house manager at The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre. While she had no input or involvement in the creative process behind building a season, we feel it is important to disclose any potential biases.

Blood Wedding: An Invitation to Powerful Theater

by Gretchen Wirges

Flamenco music filled the spaces around me. The glow of soft red light cascaded down the curtain. Audience members of different ages and cultures wandered in. And then, a young girl  came and sat front row, center. She even sat between two seats, allowing herself to take up space. She was enraptured, as was I, for the duration of this incredible production.

Blood Wedding was written by Federico Garcia Lorca and, for this production, translated by Scoundrel & Scamp’s own Elizabeth Falcón. The play encompasses the story of one family joining to another with all of its politics, heartache, and love. The Bridegroom, played by Sean Cronin, is to be wed to the Bride, played by Claire De La Vergne, but the bride is still in love with her past amor, Leonardo, played by Jeffrey Baden. A tragic love story follows.

The set, designed by Jason Jamerson, is beautifully designed with open walls and doorways. The hilly platform upstage contains the constant presence of figures representing nature, death, the moon, and music. The figures move to form beautiful tableaus that serve as the perfect theatrical backdrop. The tableaus included live musicians, including a guitarist, who punctuates and underscores much of the action on the stage and two vocalists/percussionists who help fill the stage with authentic Spanish music and heart. The vocalizations of everyone in the tableau created flowing transitions from one scene into the next.

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Nicole Delprete as the Wife of Leonardo, Emily Fuchs, Susan Arnold as the Mother of the Bridegroom, China Young, and Claire De La Vergne as the Bride. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

The music, arranged by Melissa Alejandra Aguirre Fernandez, was one of my favorite parts of this show. It was powerful, meditative and cathartic. Its vitality — in all senses of the word — makes the music feel like a crucial member of the cast. One of my favorite scenes took place between Mother-in-Law of Leonardo, played by Julia Balestracci, and Wife of Leonardo, played by Nicole DelPrete. Their beautiful voices lilted as they sung about folklore heavy with foreboding and pain. The singing was accented perfectly by the Spanish guitar. Such a touching, heartbreakingly stunning scene. 

The costumes, designed by Maria Caprile,  were stunning. Most performers wore a variety of shades of brown, and off-white, while Mother of the Bridegroom, Bride, Bridegroom, and Leonardo wore blacks, whites, and greys. The sparse pops of red in the props and costuming were balanced and predicted the essence of death and danger.

The diversity of the cast in gender, age, and culture gave this show greater power in terms of authenticity and richness. This is the casting I want to see in every show, regardless of its cultural point of view. The world is diverse, our art should be as well. When we see ourselves, it enables us to connect to the deeper meanings and truths. It allows us to have a mirror to look more intimately into our own humanity, instead of just observing the humanity of others.  

The performances, directed by Bryan Falcón, were great as a whole. At times, some of the performers would use an accent, and others not. Sometimes a British overtone, sometimes a Spanish. Sometimes odd diction, sometimes not.  I found this a little off-putting, but not so much that I couldn’t enjoy the beautiful performances behind the words. The delivery was often overly dramatic, in a way that the poetic language demanded.

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Claire De La Vergne as the bride on her wedding day with Kat McIntosh as the maid. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

I have to call out the performances of three individuals: Adrian Encinas, as The Moon, Leora Sapon-Sevin as Death, and De La Vergne. Encinas and Sapon-Sevin were creepy and spectacular. They used their bodies to create shapes of darkness and light. I was enraptured every time they move or spoke. They used their voices expertly to create silence, anger, pain and delight. De La Vergne was a glorious revelation throughout. Her pain became my pain. Her strength, my strength. Her love, her loss — mine. De La Vergne’s final exchange with the Bridegroom’s mother, played elegantly by Susan Arnold, was inspired and powerful. As a director, I wanted to cast her; as an actor, I wanted to be her; as a human being, I wanted to hug her. I can’t wait to see much more from De La Vergne. 

The women in this play have unexpected agency. The Bride makes choices that lead her along a dark path. She is neither commanded by her father, nor carried away by her lover, nor controlled by her betrothed. Additionally, in the end, it is the women who hold the space for love and grief. It is the women who commune to overcome aggression with emotion. It is the women who call out in their anger and sadness. It is the women who bravely water the earth with their tears.

The girl in the front row didn’t flinch at the darkness or grief. She took it all in, as did I. I hope she grows up and wants to create art just like this. Please go see this show. Allow the visual feast of diversity in music and humanity to transport you to that place where poetry and inclusion and love mean everything.

Blood Wedding is playing at The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre, Thursdays-Sundays through April 14th. (Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30pm, Sundays at 2pm). Call the box office at 520-448-3300 or visit scoundrelandscamp.org for tickets.

A List of Epic Proportions

by Marguerite Saxton

For the month of February an evening at the Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre will treat you to an immersive experience: a 65-minute trip into the minds of playwright Duncan Macmillan and director Michelle Milne. In Every Brilliant Thing, the narrator Claire Marie Mannle leads an unsuspecting audience with gentle familiarity, a soft consensual nudge that enrolls ordinary folks in becoming co-narrators in this supposedly one-person show. Though we learn that “suicide is contagious,” we’re guided through farcical absurdity – poignant moments of total surreal accuracy, sobering, convoluted pockets of humor wound within the labyrinth of a life. If space permitted, I’d list a million brilliant reasons to see this play. But here are five:

  1. Theatre-in-the-Round (and round and round and round):

The concentric layout of Mannle’s movement keeps this piece in a groove which guides the audience’s eyes in a continual search around the theatre, peeking at one another’s expressions, wondering where the next scene will be, and guessing what delightful, odd treasures it will produce.

  1. Jazz Music on Vinyl:
Claire Marie Mannle in Every Brilliant Thing. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Claire Marie Mannle in Every Brilliant Thing. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

There really isn’t a parallel to the nostalgia that vinyl records conjure. The feel of plastic imperfections running under one’s fingertip, the romantic crackling of static perfuming the air, the ritual of buying and unwrapping. The somatic sitting still. Every Brilliant Thing reveals an undeniable reverence for jazz music, treating us to the moody tunes of Cab Calloway, Ray Charles, and Ometta Coleman, just to name a few. One even gets the feeling that the music is a scene partner, a dramaturg of sorts; giving history and credence to the already vulnerable unfolding of life.

  1. Levity in Depression:

Mannle performs a spoken dance in this play – a magnetic ebbing of transformation. Depression is serious and haunting, a generational ghost. Even so, our fearless narrator is graceful as she weaves between seven year old sheepishness and collegiate courage. She fluidly reveals years of time passing, mere minutes to us audience, but great leaps of life’s monuments in her story. We are taken along the non-linear way that most people think and feel in, possessing a secret notion that we’re privy to some private experience, the ones we keep close to our hearts and share only with beloveds.

  1. Audience Tomfoolery:

In this performance there are particular analog moments that defy expectation and tickle the edges of conformity. It blurs the boundaries of authorship and audience, projecting Mannle like a circus ringmaster who hypnotizes us through a mélange, a maze of memories. There are disappointments, assessments, and antics: sock puppets and improvised conversations with “Dad” – serious belly laughs injected into an ordinarily down-beaten topic of depression.

  1. Snacks

Didn’t know live theatre included snacks? Well, it does. This one does. Snacks!

This play is a craftfully produced arrangement of intimate and uncomfortable situations. It’s a good way to laugh at something difficult, which we could all use some allowance to do now and then. It encourages us to embrace the difficult and strive for better, while permitting many moments to laugh at the irony of it all.

Claire Marie Mannle in Every Brilliant Thing. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Claire Marie Mannle in Every Brilliant Thing. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Every Brilliant Thing runs from February 7th-24th at The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre, located in the Historic Y at 738 N. 5th Avenue. Evening and matinee shows are available. Tickets can be purchased from scoundrelandscamp.org or directly from the box office on premises. The box office opens for ticket sales one hour prior to the show.

 

Editor’s Note: Marguerite has worked with The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre on other productions and as a teacher with their youth theatre program, she had no involvement with this production. All our reviewers work to identify and avoid any potential biases.

The Deeper Meaning of Sports

by China Young

 

Bill Epstein in My Life In Sports. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Bill Epstein in My Life In Sports. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Spoiler Alert: My Life in Sports, a one man show written and performed by English professor Bill Epstein and performed at Scoundrel & Scamp, is not actually about sports. Well, not entirely. I felt as though sports served more as a loom and thread. A tapestry of life experiences is woven before our very eyes. The structure of the story-telling takes on various shapes and patterns as Epstein connects memories through time, using anecdotes and metaphors that often circle back to where they started.

The simplicity of the direction and production design by Bryan Rafael Falcón and the sincerity of Epstein’s delivery of the dialogue drew me in with a comfortable warmth that felt like I was 8 years old being told a folk tale by my grandfather and hanging on every word. Now that I think of it, the play starts when Epstein is 8 years old, so perhaps that was the intention all along. I found it to be a very effective way to draw people in, although at times I did find myself drifting simply from the soothing tones of the narration. Still, I was very impressed with the production and how the concept of sports, whether literal or metaphorical, took me on a journey that touched me profoundly.  

The thing I appreciated the most was Epstein’s reflections on the relationship between sports and the “construct of masculinity.” We all know that there seems to be this unspoken “romance” between men and sports. Not all men experience this of course, and not all people that experience this are men, but somehow society has created this construct of “boys play sports” that this production explores a little more deeply and with a self-awareness that is appreciated in a time where constant social examination and re-evaluation is needed. Epstein does a fantastic job capturing the essence of the time in which he was raised, amplifying the understood gender norms, racial inequality, and his privilege of being not only a white male, but also his father’s son. He discusses, at times, how sports, or sport-like behavior, was how boys established their pecking order. In his Author’s Notes he states “Virtually the only live and unrehearsed programming still on network television, the subject being discussed, endlessly, on twenty-four-hour talk-radio stations across the country, the section of the newspaper most men turn to first, sports are a powerful and influential narrative formation, one of the crucial ways that American men construct identity.”

We all saw this truth during the NFL “taking a knee” controversy, which, as you’ve noticed, has disappeared as quickly as began (maybe because it’s off-season, or maybe because those that were “offended” by it have moved on to other asinine battles… but I digress). My biggest fear is that sports is to America what the games of the Colosseum were to Rome, a tactic to distract the poor from their poverty in the hopes that they would not revolt. I don’t dislike sports, and played them for many years (before theatre took complete reign of my life), but I believe they have the power to keep the masses complacent just as they have the power to fuel the “masculinity complex.” Although he used some derogatory language on occasion, and I hate giving him the “product of his time” pass, I wasn’t terribly bothered by it because it was made clear that that was in fact the past, and not the present, and I believe and embrace the social evolution of which we are all capable. If we don’t know where we came from, we can’t possibly accurately assess where we are.  

There were several other lovely elements of the production. The space is lightly littered with a baseball bat and glove, eventually a coat rack with a jacket to signify Epstein’s scholarly career choice, and even a pair of ballet shoes to represent Epstein’s late wife, but to also remind us that dance is another sport that significantly impacted his life. The use of projections offered environmental settings, magnification of text, and the creation of emotional atmospheres. The subtle sound effects enhanced those atmospheres, as did the simplicity of the lighting. Epstein includes references to Tennessee Williams in his Author’s Note, describing memory as “dimly lighted” and “poetic” and “seems to happen to music.” The design team, comprised of Bryan Rafael Falcón, Josh Hemmo (Projection design), Connor Greene (Production Design Associate), Brian Graham (Lighting Designer), and Tyler Berg (Sound Design), manage to capture that description of memory within the intimate performance area with skill and artistry.  

Bill Epstein in My Life In Sports. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Bill Epstein in My Life In Sports. Photo by Tim Fuller, courtesy of The Scoundrel & Scamp Theatre.

Though I could call out this production for is male-heavy team (Stage Manager Marguerite Saxon being the only female name listed) and focus on the voice of yet another white man, the content of the work gives me faith that these men understand the privileged patriarchal patterns society perpetuates. Besides, if they are engaging in the creation of theatre, they have likely broken from the “construction of masculinity” imbedded in a “life in sports.”

My Life in Sports plays at Scoundrel & Scamp Thursday through Saturday at 7:30pm and Sunday at 2pm. For tickets call 448-3300 or visit scoundrelandscamp.org.