Rasmussen’s Tom... was mesmerizing. Not since 1976 have I seen such a blurring between the romantic and the violent

Jens Rasmussen in Skin Tight

As a title, Pas de Deux, with its connotations of ballet and romantic refinement, might be a bit misleading.  With Skin Tight by New Zealander Gary Henderson and 2-2 Tango by Canadian Daniel MacIivor, we definitely have dancing, but of the psycho-sexual variety.  And we have lots of romance, both the longterm and enduring and the flash-in-the-pan-and-smash-that-watermelon-to-bits kind.  But these two one-act theatrical dances are way too mosh-pit and brutal for a French sensibility, and their raw sensuality, lyricism and wit are sure to relieve even your most stress-filled day.

First up, we have Skin Tight, a lyrical memory play as immixed with rough sex as it is with tender expressions of regret and longing.  Director Johanna Gruenhut has a handle on the rhythms of the romance, but she does not quite know what to do with the style.

The couple, Jens Rasmussen’s Tom and Emily Townley’s Elizabeth, was mesmerizing in their passionate love play.  Not since David Freeman’s 1976 Jesse and the Bandit Queen have I seen such a blurring between the romantic and violent.  Complete with erotic knife play and thigh-bruising wrestling—not to mention the galumphing and the tickling—the intensity of their relationship is only equaled by their total commitment to each other.  Rare in the theatre these days is the portrayal of the long-lasting relationship; even rarer, it seems, is the authentic portrayal of average rural people struggling to make their lives meaningful.

The tricky part of the script, and what director Gruenhut does not quite solve, is its overlapping of memories from different times in the couple’s life.  Told from an aging Tom’s perceptive (played by Ken Vest), as he reflects back on his life with his wife Elizabeth, the memories come as they might in flashes and fragments.  Without a clearer differentiation of the shifts in time and place, particularly since the play’s perspective is not revealed until the end, the production occasionally confuses the audience, which is never a good thing.

Part 2 of Pas de Deux is 2-2 Tango, a fast-paced comedy exploring the equally fast-paced dating scene in Club Urban.  To be sure, the shift from the loose-fitting rural farmlands of New Zealand to the tightly-strapped glam of big city Canada makes for an excellent change of pace.  If the dancing in Skin Tight left the partners with bruises and wounds, the hustle in Tango—from its splendid choreography to its avoid-at-all-cost any possible pain from love and commitment—was delightful to witness even if its real world results are anything but.

Director Eric Ruffin and choreographer Nancy Bannon definitely bring this story into excellent focus with well-timed emotional shifts and dance moves and line sharing that were as syncopated as they were articulate and bold.

To be sure, Alex Mills as James and Jon Hudson Odom as Jim must have made the director and the choreographer’s jobs a delightful experience.  The two actors seemed so totally honed in on each other’s thoughts and wishes as they moved from that first glance across the dance room floor to that decision to “get to know one another,” and thus to all the subsequent fallout from gaining too much knowledge without enough love.

What makes the script so enjoyable is that MacIvor focuses not on the notion that their relationship does not work out, which has been explored ad nauseam, but on the fact that the two people involved just do not seem to be capable of functioning intimately.  The story’s comedy, though definitely enhanced by witty repartee and sleek choreography, is rooted in the psychological dysfunction of the characters as they grapple with the fear of moving from an “I” focus to a “we” focus.  Mill and Odom capture that trembling anxiety with clarity and great humor.

Another dimension of Tango resides in the character of Boy, played by Maceo Dolan-Sandrino, who appears with watermelon at the beginning and end of the comedy.  Like the garnish on a carefully displayed plate of Canadian cuisine, the boy and his watermelon serve as an aesthetic enhancer.  My only regret, echoed by a fellow patron as we left the theatre, was that I was not going to be able to eat any of that deliciously ripe watermelon!

The production team for this evening of one-acts did a wonderful job, proving not only the now old adage “less is more” but also demonstrating the superb versatility of Studio’s 2nd Stage space.  Scene designer JD Madsen sets were provocative and functional.  Costume designers Kelsey Hunt (Skin Tight) and Rebecca Delapp (2-2 Tango) represented the worlds of each play with aesthetic appeal.  Lighting designer Jedidiah Roe did a particularly fine job using silhouette and shadow during Tango.

So if you are feeling in the mood for love, with or without strings, with a touch of the heartland or a dunk in the urban, with modernity’s generations of “me” or with the “me(s)” of a time long ago (say somewhere in the mid-20th century), then Studio Theatre’s Pas de Deux is the duet for you.  These two physically and linguistically lyrical plays are sure to satisfy your craving, even if that watermelon lingers in your dreams.

By Robert Michael Oliver for MD Theatre Guide

Rasmussen... projects bone-deep familiarity and intimacy

According to Wednesday's Washington Post, when the sand tiger shark is pregnant, the multiple male offspring in her womb must engage in a “cannibalistic battle for primacy in utero, with only one surviving.”

Well, you can start to imagine how it feels in that cutthroat shark womb at Studio Theatre's new offering, Pas de Deux (the ballet term for duet). Because while we go in expecting two one-act plays on the combativeness of love, in the end, one play completely devours its feeble companion.

Under the fast-paced direction of Eric Ruffin, the clear victor is Daniel MacIvor’s 2-2 Tango, an ebullient and witty dance piece about the fears and delights of hooking up, played out between Alex Mills and Jon Hudson Odom, both of whom perform like they were cloned Jurassic Park style out of the amber-locked DNA of Mikhail Barishnikov, Fred Astaire, Gregory Hines and James Bond.

Jim and James emerge in identical tuxes bearing identical beaming grins. With grace and fluidity in every expression, they proceed to savage what we all know as the 21st century mating process, laying it out in all its self-sabotaging, neurotic glory.

It's the kind of dance piece I suspect people who claim to "hate musical theater" might love.

Unfortunately, you can't get to Tango which occurs after the intermission, until you've sat through its far weaker sibling, Skin Tight by New Zealand playwright Gary Henderson.

Skin Tight draws its title from a line about “sliding the blade through the tight skin” of an apple — a chops-licking image straight out of Eden, if ever there was one.

Things begin promisingly enough, with a loud, Keith Moon-esque drum solo smash of man and woman. Tom and Elizabeth fight with their entire bodies, swinging, rolling around, spanking, slopping on each others’ faces. It’s visceral and, well, kinda hot.

So kudos to the fight choreography — acrobatic, aerobic — which is unquestionably gorgeous. (So, incidentally, is the lighting design by Jedidiah Roe.)

After tussling for a bit, Tom and Elizabeth take a breather, both gulping from buckets of water, panting. Then back they go. It is the mystery around these two smooching gladiators that heightens the excitement for what's to come as we watch.

But then the dialogue begins, and it all goes downhill (so to speak, as the set piece is a green hill!) from there.

As they talk about their many years together, a lot of it revolving around sex — “I was worried it wouldn’t fit, until I saw it,” she says of their first time, something every man wants to hear— the lack of specificity and cohesion to the story begins to try our patience.

Which has nothing to do with the capable (and brave) actors behind Tom and Elizabeth, Jens Rasmussen and Emily Townley, whose project a bone-deep familiarity and intimacy with one another most affectingly through movement, as when she shaves him or he washes her hair.

While their closeness is evident physically, the dialogue holds us at arms length, down one well-trod path after another. There are infidelities. There’s a far-off war. There’s an estranged child. There are old-timey folk songs.

Oh, and there are endless agrarian metaphors. Like how farmland is a place where “man could set his ghosts free” or how as you age, “your rivers get parched.” By the time the end finally arrives, you’ve been anticipating it for awhile.

Although there are fewer words spoken in Tango, and the content is markedly lighter, somehow Jim and James' story resonates truer.

There’s the “Indepen-dance,” an ode to maintaining singlehood. There’s the moment Jim and James meet, and how their sentences overlap like music. How, while doing the Hustle, the introductions turn awkward (“My father was a monster,” Jim blurts).

In the style of “Singing in the Rain’s” or “Moses Supposes,” many of the pieces are purely there to have fun with language. There’s the orgasmic “oh” that punctuates the word tango, or the cheerleader-style spelling of “very attractive.”

“I prefer not to see me being seen,” James says, setting up the night’s best gag—a consummation scene with clap on/clap off lights. (As my friend pointed out, how could the makers of that invention have known of its destiny, here in 2013, used so brilliantly?)

Jim and James’ skepticism and anxiety around not just finding a partner, but about whether love ever works, or even exists, gives grounding to the nonstop comical bombast, in a way that sneaks up on you.

This is seen best in a series of 10 “frightening possibilities” scenarios, which have Jim and James acting out everything from passive-aggressive shouting fests to going through sickeningly cute cat names.

By Alexis Victoria Hauk for the DCist

Rasmussen...sets the viewer in a rage; and when gentle he calms the room

When Elizabeth and Tom leap at each other to open Skin Tight at The Studio 2ndStage, they’re warning us: love and intensity go hand in hand, and this lyrical, passionate show is about love – real love – so it will be intense.

Skin Tight is one of two one-acts showing as part of Studio 2nd Stage’s sexy, imaginative, and thoroughly engaging Pas de Deux: Plays from New Zealand and Canada. The second piece, 2-2 Tango, was one of the first major successes at The Studio 2ndStage back in 1992.

In Skin Tight by Gary Henderson, Tom and Elizabeth relive their passionate marriage through an emotional duet. Poetic at times, violent at others, the piece reflects a love story from the inside out with intimacy and depth. Director Johanna Gruenhut’s staging is the kind that stays in your memory for a long time to pester and delight.

As Elizabeth, Emily Townley is so natural on stage you believe she’s actually living this frenzied frolic. You’re trespassing in, on tiptoes. She is brutal and biting – literally and figuratively – and so charming we fall in love with her despite the pain she causes, just like her husband does.

Jens Rasmussen matches Townley perfectly as Tom. When he looks at his wife affectionately, we do, too; and when he wants to kill her, we do, too. His physicality when angry sets the viewer in a rage; and when gentle he calms the room.

Watching these two together felt familiar, like looking in on a memory of oneself. Their battles and reconciliation are so true to the experience of love, told with such lyricism and honesty, that at times it felt too painful to watch and at other times glorious. Through Tom and Elizabeth we live out a full love story in an hour or less – an exhausting and cathartic feat.

In 2-2 Tango by Daniel MacIvor – the second one-act of the evening – we meet another couple: James and Jim. Their love story is just as intense, though perhaps not quite as painful as Skin Tight. And while, like Skin Tight, it depicts the brutal nature of intimacy, lust, and loss, it’s also quite funny.

It seems inappropriate to describe Alex Mills, who plays James, separately from Jon Hudson Odom, who plays Jim. Even though they attempt “indenpen-dance” throughout, wanting desperately to express themselves without another person even as they both wish for something deeper, the actors work together entirely as a team, and one’s movement would lose its meaning without the other’s. Both men woo us with perfectly timed expressions and impeccable control of movement.

The shows succeed in part due to the brilliant choreography by Nancy Brannon. The two couples’ stories unfold through chaotic and calculated action that says as much about character as any line in either show. Scenic designer JD Madsen sets the stage for both stories with just enough connection to the literal to keep these poetic pieces grounded. The lighting by Jedidiah Roe is especially well-done and complements the most tragic and, later, most comedic moments of the night.

2-2 Tango is fierce, funny, and heartfelt. Together with Skin Tight, Pas de Deux: Plays from New Zealand and Canada reminds us what love is and what it isn’t, why so many couples don’t make it, and how to appreciate the pain and pleasure of spending life with another person. Take that other person in your life, and see it.

By Johanna Castle Miller for We Love DC

Gorgeous language.. you want to touch or smell or be what’s on the other side of every word.

Jens Rasmussen in Skin Tight

The room is cold, and vapors swirl around the ducts that bring in air — has it been chilled? It smells like what came out of the defroster on my way into the city. Risers on three sides, a platform in the middle covered with Astroturf, an old bathtub on a corner of the platform, buckets hanging from the rafters. Not a space that helps you understand what’s going to happen.

A man and a woman run into the room from opposite sides, collide or embrace, grapple each other onto the platform, struggle, wrestle, rub for a couple of minutes. They knock each other down. They grunt, they kiss, they roll. The woman’s bigger than the man. She gets up, fills her mouth at one of the hanging buckets, spits the water back like a boxer who doesn’t want to carry liquid through the next round, then she goes at him again. Wide face, pretty, flushed, and wet.

More kissing and rubbing than shoving this time. She splashes herself at the bathtub, fishes out a peach, throws her man an apple, eats. In a minute he crosses the knoll and licks the nectar off her face. No one has spoken. What’s there to say?

Love knocks down lucky man and woman; then they devour each other.

That’s the opening sequence in a one-act play called Skin Tight, by a New Zealander named Gary Henderson. It’s the first half of a program The Studio Theatre is offering to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of Studio 2nd Stage, which is “defined by its commitment to taking risks, developing new artists, and producing sexy, daring, and audacious work,” according to the press packet.

I would add the word ‘dangerous.’ At one point she licks his knife as if it were his member. He holds the handle and she takes the blade into her mouth and he moves it in and out, way in, like past her tonsils, then he pushes her around the platform by the handle of the knife. They wrestle with the blade still in her mouth — a real blade: we just saw him cut an apple with it. Then she knocks him down and straddles him and stabs him with the knife. When he screams she tells him to be quiet. “It’s just a flesh wound,” she says. Not like those wounds that go beyond the flesh.

He and she are Jens Rasmussen and Emily Townley. At first their characters appear to be generic love-fighters, incorporations of the love-sex-danger nexus that envelops men and women who surrender to each other. But then we learn their names — Elizabeth and Tom — and we realize that they’re specific people who know each other’s details well enough to treat the buckets hanging from the rafters and the bathtub on the little hill as ordinary features of the inner landscape which their long love and their hunger for each other have configured, like bulldozers might.

The details of their life emerge in gorgeous language, which means that the sounds and shapes and rhythms of the phrases catch your ear and make you want to hear the lines again, as if they were songs on the radio, and that you want to touch or smell or be what’s on the other side of every word. The bathtub and the hanging buckets may be the genius of Set Designer JD Madsen, and the dangerous edge to the erotic wrestling may be the work of Director Johanna Gruenhut, but the language is all Gary Henderson. It makes you wish you’d learned your English in New Zealand.

Elizabeth sits on the edge of the tub and shaves her husband while they talk about the first time they made love. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to find his way in; she was afraid he wouldn’t fit. Neither of them liked it. He is leaning back between her legs as she cuts the lather off his neck with that knife. Afterwards she wipes him with her dress.

She stretches out on the knoll and remembers the boys who leaned out of the windows of the train that took them off to war, three boys to a window, boney wrists sticking out of the sleeves of their tunics, the arms of men on little boys. They talk about his family’s farm, good wide sunlit country where a man can free his ghosts.

“Will you wash my body when I’m dead?” she asks him. “Not me — I won’t be there — but my body. I don’t want an undertaker’s fingers on my body — or his eyes. What if I’ve soiled my pants? I don’t want someone else to see that dirt.” Makes ‘I love you’ sound about as intimate as ‘What’s your name?’

The story of those people who have loved away the possibility of self-protection is paired with a piece that makes light of our efforts to protect ourselves. 2-2 Tango, by Canadian playwright Daniel MacIvor, is more choreography (by Nancy Bannon) than narrative. Its two characters, James and Jim, literally dance around each other for half an hour. They use words to keep each other at arm’s length, or to approach each other by degrees. Alex Mills and Jon Hudson Odom are beautiful men in beautiful clothes, some of which they take off so we get to see their bodies, which are fine.

They have funny quirks and phobias that serve as obstacles to getting what they want from one another, but they struggle humorously toward the goal of getting laid, and they succeed, I think — one of them insists on turning out the lights so we don’t see what happens, but they both shout, “Jimmy! Jim! Oh, Jim!” in tones that ring with distinctive achievement. They are, in fact, generic characters: anyone could make those sounds, except the people in the other play.

This is The Studio Theatre’s second run at 2-2 Tango, and one can’t help supposing that when it was on this stage before, in 1992, it packed a wilder, riskier punch than it does now, when the gender of the lovers doesn’t make for drama anymore.

Taken together, these two plays show how far we’ve come in understanding love since 1992, and how little we understand it at all.

By Mark Dewey for DC Metro Arts

Rasmussen...utterly convincing

Jens Rasmussen in Skin Tight

“Pas de Duex” at Studio Theatre consists of two short, one act plays. There are supposedly many threads that tie the two plays together thematically, but what I enjoyed were their differences. These pieces hold up just fine as their own islands of artistry. Two plays, each with two actors, each with two wildly opposing tones.The one thing that they do have in common is the wonderfully intimate space on the fourth floor at Studio Theatre. These plays are part of Studio Theatre 2nd Stage, known for more experimental or edgy works. At the farthest point from the stage, you can still see the sly expressions on the actors’ faces, or see a stray drop of spittle fly into the lights during an emotional moment in the action. This isn’t an evening of straining to determine who’s doing what from thirty yards away—it’s a whole different kind of theatre experience, and it’s the perfect setting for these plays, which are:

“Skin Tight” by Gary Henderson, with Emily Townley as Elizabeth and Jens Rasmussen as Tom.

What I loved about this play is how it teases you, giving you no direct information at first, forcing you to pay attention and follow clues. A man and a woman race toward each other on a green hill. As they collide with a thud and start wrestling on the ground, we aren’t sure if this is a violent fight, or old fashioned lover’s play. It turns out to be a little bit of both. They wrestle, then stop, then start over again. As things settle in, we realize that they are a long married couple. Their words to each other are enigmatic and curiously weighted. What the hell is going on here?

Are they on the verge of separating? It seems so, but then there are tender moments where she shaves him, and he bathes her, in an old fashioned bath tub that, without explanation, is also on this hill. They pull out the occasional apple from the tub and shake off the water from it, before slicing and eating it. They also use the water to splash and play and playfully spit it at each other.

Emily Townley and Jens Rasmussen (last seen by this reviewer in ‘Conference Of The Birds’ at Folger Shakespeare Theatre) are utterly convincing as two people who’ve known each other a long time—which isn’t to say that they don’t have secrets which may or may not surprise the other. Their physicality with each other says as much about their relationship as the dialogue. And though their movements are surely choreographed to the teeth—they flow and roll and tumble with naturalistic grace and believable clumsiness.

Although it may seem a challenge to be given only gradually peeled bits of information, by the time the play reaches its unexpected conclusion, you realize the characters have stolen your heart. Don’t be surprised to find a lump in your throat. The final moments of the play have both actors completely nude and vulnerable. It’s a beautiful scene, played without a hint of self-consciousness.

INTERMISSION

“2-2 Tango” by Daniel MacIvor, with Jon Hudson Odom (Jim) and Alex Mills (James).

Two tuxedo-clad men catch each other’s eyes across a club’s dance floor. There’s an unmistakable attraction that each hopes, and mostly fears, might lead to something more “serious.” In “2-2 Tango,” the dances known as flirtation and mating are stepped out with pointed toes and funny lines. The action follows Alex Mills (so great in Shakespeare’s R&J) as James and John Hudson Odom as Jim. And, yes, just their introductions to each other, with their same-ish names, induces a chuckle.

The territory is familiar—is a one night stand the worst thing? Maybe it’s the best thing. And, “Oh God, what happens if we actually move in together?” Many of the laughs come from the near-slapstick choreography that accompanies their first night together. One likes the lights on, the other likes the dark—the way the characters use two-claps to turn the lights on and off (remember “The Clapper” on the late night TV commercials?) draws the biggest laughs.

The highlight is this couples’ “Ten Frightening Possibilities” list that they each act out with hilarious results. The overall themes and worries and delights are applicable to anyone, regardless of their sexual orientation, but that’s not to say that the play completely ignores certain elements that would be unique to a couple like this.

Two quibbles: a boy who delivers a watermelon ( a watermelon which reappears one too many times) doesn’t work. Yes, it surely has a greater symbolic meaning, but I was more interested in having fun than figuring out the metaphor. And much of the dialogue is delivered in unison, in a sing-songy way that a choreographer might use to keep everyone in time. A little of that goes a long way.

But the actors have an easy chemistry and are well matched. Odom goes a bit lighter—smiling or faux-stuttering (a tiny bit) for a comedic affect that works.

After tears, then laughter, you’ll leave Studio Theatre feeling as if you’ve seen something new. Or at least in a new setting.

By Kyle Osborne for the Examiner

Rasmussen gives a breathtaking (and incredibly carnal) performance.

Studio Theatre’s intimate Studio 2nd Stage is throwing itself one hell of a sexy party for it’s 25th Anniversary.  Currently staging 2 one-act plays, both choreographed by award winning choreographer and dancer Nancy Bannon, Pas de Deux is risky theater at its best – no emotion held back, no move over-staged, and nothing off limits.  The plays – Skin Tight and 2-2 Tango – both focus heavily on movement and human connection and each does so in such a steamy and sensual way that it had me wishing 2nd Stage turned 25 every day of the week.

Skin Tight, written by Gary Henderson and directed by Johanna Gruenhut, doesn’t so much fill the relatively small space upstairs at Studio as it does completely take it over and nearly thrusts the audience against the walls with its intensity.  Storming onto the stage, Elizabeth and Tom (played with jaw-dropping chemistry by Emily Townley and Jens Rasmussen) wrestle (literally and figuratively) with the memories of their married life – the ups and downs, the passion, the anger, the blame and the bliss that have defined their lives together.  Driven by desire and nostalgia, their story unfolds to expose a tender, undying love for one another that survives periods of dispute, disdain, distance and even death.  The beauty of Skin Tight is found just as much in its physical movements as in its script, and Townley and Rasmussen give a breathtaking (and incredibly carnal) performance.

2-2 Tango follows an interracial couple as they go through the stages of a relationship like so many steps of a dance.  Written by Daniel MacIvor and directed by Eric Ruffin, the humorous and heartbreaking second play in the Pas de Deux duo is a perfect compliment to its partner at Studio, and beautifully continues the kinetic energy kick started by Skin Deep.  Intoxicated by the primal thrill of attraction, Jim (Jon Odom) and James (Alex Mills) first find themselves enthralled and then find themselves making excuses – once the initial high wears off, the fears of commitment and actually falling in love have them both side stepping rather than give away their hearts.  Odom and Mills are a perfect pair for this racy pass around the dance floor - and I have to mention the fantastic lighting that seemed to follow with perfect timing on every step (both plays were done by lighting designer Jedidiah Roe).  Tango is a bittersweet dance – and we all know the moves by heart.

By Lindsey Clark for Punch Premiere

Rasmussen explodes onto the stage

Jens Rasmussen in Skin Tight

If relationships can be traced in the landscape of two joined bodies, then the two plays in Pas De Deux explore those landscapes with an honesty that is both mesmerizing and, at times, disturbing to watch. From the opening moment, when Emily Townley and Jens Rasmussen explode onto the stage in a violent wrestling match, grabbing onto each other’s flesh, you know this will be a no-holds barred evening in theatre.

Both plays deal with the intimate relationships of two people shown through a physicalized theatre style that borrows from dance, play, stage combat and yes, well, sex. The actors all seem comfortable in their bodies and are skillful enough to throw themselves into all the physical techniques and rhythms that these shows demand.

However, that’s where the similarities end. The plays have two very different energies and arcs indeed.

Skin Tight, written by Gary Henderson, feels like a very old play – not old as in old-fashioned but old as in wise and well lived. It takes the audience on a journey through a relationship that, one discovers, has lasted a lifetime between a man and a woman. As we listen in on their conversation, they reveal these are two people who know everything about the other, what turns them on and what breaks them up, and the characters Elizabeth and Tom don’t hold back from using both extremes of communication.

The “truth” about their relationship unfolds slowly. We learn in bits and pieces that they have grown up together, known each other since childhood, that they have lived on a farm, that they’ve lost the farm, and had a daughter together who is now grown up.  Imbedded in the story is a dark mystery, something powerful that threatens to tear them apart, and when the truth finally breaks open, it is heartbreaking indeed.

Their world is defined by a raked rectangle covered in what looks like emerald grass. The actors sprawl on this barefoot and so close to the audience in Studio Theater’s Second Stage that if you look up with them you can imagine also lying on a meadow sharing an enormous sky.  In this “field” sits an old abandoned bathtub.

Set designer JD Madsen has also chosen to feature a simple rectangle in 2-2 Tango, but here the rectangle is sunken slightly. The floor is parquet and serves as a dance floor in a dance club, someone’s living room space, and an unidentified urban street. Two windows of plexiglass are at times lit from behind for a bit of silhouette work or pulse with colored lights to indicate a fast-paced urban world.

2-2 Tango feels young, edgy, a little cynical. The play traces an impulsive rollercoaster ride from hookup to break up of two young men.

The language of these two plays also differs greatly.  In Skin Tight, Henderson is working through what is a memory play and has chosen to have the characters indulge in long monologues that lift off from prosaic dialogue into almost poetic flight.  Actors Emily Townley and Jens Rasmussen only occasionally exhibit a bit of strain in a few awkward, self-conscious passages. For the most part their voices rise and fall in well-synced murmuring, an undulating stream-of-consciousness sharing.

In 2-2 Tango, playwright Daniel MacIvor has created a script marked by terse phrases, delivered in rapid-fire succession that are sometimes repeated simultaneously such as this in staccato,  “This is a dance. This is an independ-dance!” The play is arranged in cropped scenelets, each with a different structure and rhythm – much like a piece of contemporary music. Alex Mills and Jon Hudson Odom never miss a beat of this demanding “score.”

The performances throughout the evening are outstanding, especially in the physical realm. Townley has a strong and generous physique that she uses to great advantage in portraying the character of Elizabeth, a woman of earthy and aggressively animal appetites. The way her bare legs plant themselves as she walks reminds me of the great roles and physicalizations of actress Colleen Dewhurst – say as Josie in Moon for the Misbegotten.

Jens Rasmussen with his reedy physique seems at first no match for this feisty woman, so full of life and longings, but as they roll around together, fight, and make up, we see an extraordinary couple grappling together through whatever life dishes them, and learn that, no matter what, they will stay in the ring. There is one scene that starts like a modern interpretation of the famous eating scene in the film Tom Jones where these two actors establish their two characters by eating apples – she digging her teeth in deeply to the juicy flesh, he paring away neat slices with a knife. But its lusty humor turns to something both chilling and thrilling when she covers the sharp knife with her mouth and Tom steers her around the floor by turning the sharp blade.

Alex Mills is an actor who we’ve come to expect to deliver enormous range and control in his physicality, and in 2-2 Tango he doesn’t disappoint. Mostly known for his silent work affiliated with Synetic Theatre Company, he has stepped into some notable speaking roles recently.  But this was my first time hearing his voice, and it was an experience close to what it must have been like in Hollywood emerging from the silent film age with the advent of talkies. And I am pleased to report that Mills has made the transition with more grace and vocal abilities than many of Hollywood’s silent screen stars. Moreover, he is a fearless performer – from his whiplash-like isolations and erotic gyrations to the quixotic changes of emotions and drilling dialogue – and wows us throughout the show.

Mills and Jon Hudson Odom are well-paired indeed. Odom matches Mills in his lithe, expressive body, and he slams words across the space at Mills who bats them back as in a tennis match.  Odom expresses well the terror of a man more comfortable in a dance club than sitting chatting in his own home. His portrayal is both humorous and sympathetic.

Frankly, in this play, I wish their characters had had more guts than the actors demonstrated playing them.  Of course, there were powerful universal truths in the expression of relationships (straight or gay, young or old) about stages of attraction, awkward individual rules of undressing, lust, boredom, restlessness, whining, and desiring to wound. One of my favorite scenes in MacIvor’s play is when these two men, who’ve barely just met, imagine all the things that might go wrong to upend their relationship and, in quick-by-numbers fashion, the two men act these out. It’s riotously funny and wincingly familiar.

But beneath the bravado poses and cool dance pick-up moves, we get to see glimpses of these two men as vulnerable, lonely, and hungry to launch themselves in a more satisfying relationship. Would that the play had risked more in this direction.

2-2 Tango skirts away from the depth and scary places Skin Tight eventually goes to and, as such, risks being vastly entertaining but finally just clever.

Directors Johanna Greuenhut (Skin Tight) and Eric Ruffin (2-2 Tango) and choreographer Nancy Bannon  have developed wonderful trust in their small ensembles.  They’ve brought out to varying degrees in their respective plays the baring of souls.  InSkin Tight, the play actually calls for one character to undress fully.  For some people, this vulnerable display of an aging body will seem a natural extension of the final situation in the play. For others, the nudity will shock or distract them from even hearing the final scene.

In realty, to all intent and purposes, the performers have been baring themselves to us all evening in painfully honest and human ways.  The final image of the evening has young Dolan-Sandrino holding up a tray of watermelon slices to the audience as if to ask us, are we going to dig in and suck life’s juices, however messy? This moment shows how theatre, at its best, holds the mirror up and passes the choice to us.

By Susan Galbraith for DC Theatre Scene

Rasmussen... leads us on a journey that's intense and emotional, raw and human.

It can be a bit of a gamble to present multiple plays in one evening of theatre. There's always a question of whether the two (or more) plays need to have a common theme or another element, which ties them together. It may not always be necessary, but in this case Studio Theatre's 2nd Stage Division hits the jackpot in finding two plays that not only explore common themes present in adult sexual relationships, but are also of equal quality. Visceral, evocative, and charged with energy, New Zealand's Gary Henderson's Skin Tight and Canada's Daniel MacIvor's 2-2 Tango - both of which comprise Studio 2nd Stage's Pas de Deux theatrical event - stand fine on their own but are even better as a pair.

Skin Tight focuses on Elizabeth (Emily Townley) and Tom's (Jens Rasmussen) marriage - warts and all. When we first meet them, they are engaged in combat - of sorts - on a grassy mat. Through sharp movement (choreographed by Nancy Bannon with assistance from Graham Brown) and even (at times) more pointed dialogue, they explore the ups and downs of their longstanding relationship. Moments of anger quickly turn into sexual encounters in the blink of an eye. Moments of tenderness quickly fade to showcase each person's dark secrets and fears. In this play, superbly directed by Johanna Gruenhut, notions of time and space are thrown out, but Henderson's exquisitely constructed play leading to a largely unexpected reveal in the final moments (with some assistance Ken Vest, a mysterious man) is more straightforward than we might initially be led to believe. A heartbreaking and fearless Emily Townley who meets her acting match in Jens Rasmussen, leads us (together with Rasmussen) on a journey that's intense and emotional, raw and human.

Daniel MacIvor's seamless 2-2 Tango is not a new piece to longtime Studio 2nd Stage audiences - in fact it was an early hit - but it's no less of a powerful experience than Skin Tight. James (Alex Mills) and Jim (Jon Hudson Odom) may not have the long history that Elizabeth and Tom do. Further, their relationship may be depicted in less intense ways, but their struggles, fears, and connections are no less real and emotionally-charged. Using precise and well-executed movements that incorporate elements of formal dance (also choreographed by Bannon/Brown), the equally matched actors/dancers play out - with much charm and charisma - a relationship in the modern era. In this Eric Ruffin-directed play, it's not possible to sidestep (so to speak) the important issues; they must be faced head on even as we try as hard as possible to avoid confrontation. Aided by a mysterious boy (Maceo Dolan-Sandrino) they are able to identify and define their connections to one another in a way that might not always be possible with just words/direct conversation.

Language and movement are the centerpieces of both plays, but minimal production values reinforce the ideas found within them without being a distraction. JD Madsen's scenic designs - rudimentary and bright in Skin Tight and modern and pristine in 2-2 Tango - are utilitarian for these movement-based pieces, while highlighting the kinds of figurative worlds that the characters inhabit. Jedidiah Roe's lighting design is particularly interesting in 2-2 Tango. Enhancing the already performance-like mood of the piece, it's an example of lighting being innovative without being too gimmicky. Kelsey Hunt's (Skin Tight) and Rebecca DeLapp's (2-2 Tango) costumes, like Madsen's sets provide insight into the 'worlds' - whether actual or not - that our duos inhabit. James Bigbee Garver's varied sound design adds further ambient information.

A highly theatrical pair of plays, they offer valuable insight into the nature of adult relationships of many sorts. Intense and thought-provoking, they're definitely something to see.

By Jennifer Perry for Broadway World 

Rasmussen has a menacing air of self-satisfaction that's quite effective.

REVIEW: The Other Man at Theatre Row

In "The Other Man," their first produced play, authors Bryant Martin and Mark Botts have written an often taut if not always convincing thriller-cum–love story, in the process giving Martin a savory meal of a role. The actor plays Tom Donaghy, a young thug from England just released from a New York prison. Facing deportation, Donaghy is desperately searching for his vanished drug-addicted girlfriend Lisa. Not only does Martin's Donaghy sport a tangy cockney accent with generous amounts of rhyming slang; he can be violently threatening one moment, barking orders in a booming voice; funny and sexy the next, gently but confidently flirting with a woman he's just met; and then crushingly sensitive, recalling his early years in an orphanage. Martin melds it all into an impressive performance.

As the play begins, a gun-wielding Donaghy storms into the office of Raphael Cardozzo, a big-time drug dealer, demanding to know Lisa's whereabouts. It seems that Cardozzo not only sold Lisa drugs but also had a ruinous affair with her, and apparently his office has up-to-date records on all his old customers. While Angelica, Cardozzo's secretary-mistress, searches in the next room for information on Lisa, Cardozzo, captive in handcuffs, and Donaghy chat it up. The ex-con rhapsodizes about his love for Lisa, and in flashback we see their romance developing and then collapsing as Lisa sinks deeper into addiction. He also forces Cardozzo to telephone his wife and confess his affair with Angelica and periodically threatens to harm Cardozzo's two young daughters. The men further manage to go at each other in a nicely staged brawl.(Choreographed by Rasmussen.)

Toward the end questions of blame come up—who's really responsible for Lisa's downfall—but they seem perfunctory. The play runs a scant 70 minutes or so, but some of the talk has the feel of obvious filler, despite Kimberly Faith Hickman's well-paced direction and a skillful cast.

Jens Rasmussen's trim, well-spoken Cardozzo may not be the most brutish mob boss around, but he has a menacing air of self-satisfaction that's quite effective. Kara Durrett believably limns Lisa's journey from fresh young thing to wretched addict, and Lucy Sheftfall imbues Angelica with an appropriately scary hard edge. But it's watching Martin bringing his own script to life with relish that gives the show its raison d'être.

Reviewed by Ron Cohen

Rasmussen commandeers attention from the get go

Know Theatre’s ‘Skin Tight’ offers passionate look at love

Jens Rasmussen in Skin Tight

Cincinnati’s best off-off-Broadway playhouse, the Know Theatre, opens its 13th season with the intimate, advant-garde play, Skin Tight. Written by New Zealand playwright Gary Henderson and directed by Drew Fracher, the show runs through October 30, 2010.

Skin Tight tells the story of a rural New Zealand couple, Tom and Elizabeth, who relive their love story on stage. From its opening moments, Skin Tight grabs the audience and leads them through a frenzied, passionate dance that refuses to let go. The performance is a heady mix of touching, romantic prose spoken by the duo, coupled with bouts of physical activity: fighting, wrestling, dancing, and loving gestures. The show toes the line between the reality of the couple’s situation and the way they see and view each other.

Director Drew Fracher says, “A friend gave me Skin Tight, knowing my penchant for action and stage combat and suggest that I might like the play. I felt that the Know was the only place in town that fit the style and content best. Thankfully, producing artistic director Eric [Vosmeier] felt the same way. I’m thrilled to have an opportunity to work on such an amazing, theatrical piece.”

Veteran Equity actor Jens Rasmussen (Tom) and local theatre starlet Beth Harris (Elizabeth) commandeer their audience’s attention from the get go. With believable accents and even more convincing love and care for each other, these two actors reveal the inner workings of a relationship that has stood the test of time. From juvenile taunts to real fears and honest wounds, the chemistry between the two on stage draws the viewer in and invites them to experience the same feelings. Their raw, emotional portrayal of a very real, intimate relationship – the combination of trust, pain, passion, laughter, anger, fear, hope – reduced many in the audience to tears by the end of the show.

The sets and lighting, designed by Andrew Hungerford, are simple yet effective, drawing the viewer into rural farmland without distracting from the action. Sound design by Doug Borntrager helps to illustrate the emotions being played out on stage.

This is not an easy show to attend. There is nudity, there is fighting, and it moves at a jarringly quick pace. Basic plot and character development unfolds very slowly, and even at the end the audience may have questions that were not answered.

The experience of this show, however, is completely worth every question and plot twist. In the end, love is a confusing and tricky thing. The heart and soul of Skin Tight is the bond between two ordinary people…people with just enough detail left out to be any one of us.
Let go of your expectations and come along for the ride. Experience the realities of a life well lived and fiercely loved.

BY: JENNY KESSLER for UrbanCincy

Stage Combat Comedy

'Hamlet' comes to Springer stage for first time since 1876

Jens Rasmussen in Hamlet

Almost every high school student in the United States has to read “Hamlet.”

As these students grow up, many resist going to see Shakespearean plays.

“A lot of people will say, ‘Shakespeare is not my favorite.’ But I ask, ‘Have you seen it?’ ” said Chris Graham, who plays the title role of Hamlet in the latest Springer Opera House production.

“Shakespeare has to be seen, not just read to truly understand the plays. I hope this will attract people to see a Shakespearean play.”

John Ammerman, is a theater professor at Emory University and is an associate artist at the Georgia Shakespeare Festival. He’s done “Hamlet” twice at Georgia Shakespeare Festival, where he played Hamlet and the ghost of Hamlet’s father. Now, he’s directing the play.

“This is a fabulous cast,” Ammerman said. “Everybody has their own personal strengths. It’s truly an ensemble group.”

Ammerman set the play in the Victorian era of the 1890s, rather than the Elizabethan. There’s no one wearing tights, he said with a laugh.

“Paul (Pierce, the Springer’s artistic director) and Ron (Anderson, the Springer’s associate artistic director) wanted to do something different,” Ammerman said. “I think the Victorian era really complemented the sense of repression in the play and how etiquette made people function under their public facades.”

The costumes are form-fitting, which also makes the characters stand up straight.

The cast had two weeks to get ready for opening the show tonight. “This cast hit the floor running,” Ammerman said. He’s had to drive back and forth from Atlanta to oversee rehearsals.

Playing Hamlet

Graham, a transplant from Atlanta, did back-to-back Springer shows, “Picasso at the Lapin Agile” and “The Glass Menagerie,” in 2001-02.

It’s been even longer for Bruce Evers. Evers last was at the Springer 15 years ago in “Inherit the Wind.” Before that, he was in “A Doll’s House.”

Since he was last here in Columbus, Evers has done “Hamlet” twice with the Georgia Shakespeare Festival in Atlanta. It’s the first time he’s had a large role. He’s playing Claudius, Hamlet’s uncle, who killed Hamlet’s father, then married his mother.

For Graham, now married with two children and a demanding job at Aflac, the timing hasn’t been right to get back on stage. But for “Hamlet,” he’s taking vacation days for rehearsals and the daytime performances for school groups.

“This is the greatest play ever written,” Graham said. “I didn’t think I’d ever have the chance to play this role.”

Graham is thrilled to play Hamlet for the first time on the Springer stage since Edwin Booth played the role in 1876.

“It’s quite a legacy to be part of,” agreed Jens Rasmussen, who is playing Laertes. Laertes is the brother of Ophelia, whom Hamlet loves.

“I just want to be somewhere between Burt Reynolds and Oscar Wilde,” referring to the stars whose names are on a plaque outside the Springer, Graham joked.

Rebecca McGraw, who plays Gertrude, Hamlet’s mother, is also happy to be acting in “Hamlet.”

“This is a life-long dream come true,” she said.

The new kid

Cynthia D. Barker is new to the Springer. Last summer, she received her master’s degree from the Hilberry Classical Repertory Co. in Detroit. In September, she packed her belongings and moved to Atlanta, where she’s found a welcoming theater community. She moved to Atlanta on a Tuesday and went to audition for “Hamlet” on Saturday. A few weeks later, she got the job, playing Ophelia.

“This is a like an actor’s spa,” she said of the accommodations at the Springer. She can get out of bed, get dressed, go down one floor to rehearse and then hit the ground floor to the theater. “This is an actor’s dream,” she said.

Unlike some actors who do not watch movie versions of the plays they’re in, Barker rented every movie version she could find.

Barker likes the 1996 Kenneth Branaugh version the best, featuring a very young Kate Winslet as Ophelia.

And there’s sword-fighting

Jason Armit is the fight choreographer, returning to Columbus after having choreographed the fights in “Romeo and Juliet.” The big fight is between Hamlet and Laertes and Pierce jokes that there are body parts all over stage.

Armit, though, makes sure that the actors are safe. It helps, he said that both men are athletic.

“Some people (like Graham and Rasmussen), I can choreograph in a day and a half,” Armit said. “They retain all the steps. With two other people, it may have taken more time.”

Rasmussen loves the fight scene.

“And I get in a sword fight,” he said. “It’s the best final scenes ever.”

BY SANDRA OKAMOTO

from an original article appearing in the Ledger-Inquirer